1994
September, Summer in Groot Drakenstein. There is a chill in the air.
It is dark in the farm Manor house where we live, my husband,myself, three sons and a daughter.
We have lived here for ten years. It is a kind of spooky house at the end of an ancient Oak avenue. The Groot Drakenstein mountain range overshadows the house.
The house was originally T-shaped. Later it became H-shaped when a kitchen was built on. Over the years a verandah was added. It was eventually converted into bathrooms and an additional room.
The house and outhouses occupy 600 square metres of space. We had more than enough space for the family to have their own rooms.
There is a passage that stretches from kitchen to living room. On this particular day on the 26th September, as I leave the kitchen Damian my 15 year old second son, stops me in my tracks, places his hands on my shoulders, looks into my eyes, and says, I love you Mom. He passes me before I can respond other than absorb the impact of his love, and the day goes on.
On the evening of 1st October, Damian died from suicide.
He left a note. the last words at the end, I love you Mom.
“When Love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.”
Kahlil Gibran.
