 |
| Margo and Keegan |
From time to time I use this blog as a way to explain my thoughts and confront my emotions. Sadly, this is one of those times.
This week, a close friend of mine died.
I met her at Auckland University in 1980, just as my school mates and undergraduate mates left varsity after their degrees and headed off to work. Distances start quickly. I needed new friendships.
Margo and I were both doing our masters degree in English. Being an intellectual giant, she was whizzing through hers and about to start her PhD. I was just starting out in my extremely naive way.
A rebel, she'd married early after school (wearing black much to mother's horror which was the point), and had been out and about before returning to academic study.
She was now with an American guy, an artist, a Vietnam Vet. Called Clay.
Holy holy. I latched onto them like a limpet and became a frequent visitor to their Blockhouse Bay flat.
We went to movies together, concerts, events, dinners at Chances R, plays, bookstores. We hung out - in the MA room on top of the English Department and at their flat.
And we talked and analysed and discussed and I listened, absorbed, and my brain leaped! A lot!
We became close. So close that the American guy called Clay was standing beside me as my Best Man when I married Jacqueline Frances Smith in 1984. Margo was MC. Like everything she did - she was superb, accomplished, peerless. Just right.
When Keegan Warren Purdy came along, our choice for Godparents was clearly for Margo and Clay.
From then till now we stayed in touch as she went into advertising with Ogilvy and Mather (she was brilliant) and then back to Auckland University's as Head of the Adult Education Department/PhD programme (she was outstanding as a mentor).
Now she's gone from our lives.
Obviously, that news is devastating to take.
She had that special touch - all of her network of fanatical supporters knew they had a special one on one relationship with her. When, really truly, that was reserved for Clay.
If you go back to those recent posts on the onion layers, you will understand that I feel, selfishly, as if the people who really really really know me has been reduced by one (it's a very short list to begin with).
Until we meet again, Margo, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.
Love - W
P.S. Wie geht's? is German. It means 'How are you?' Margo started all her letters and postcards to me with this greeting. Her first thought was for me (the reader). I'll be starting posts with this from now.
No comments:
Post a Comment