Au Revoir
It was in early-November 2011 that I received a call from the Commission in Paris saying that Ronald’s body had indeed been identified. Now it was a question of receiving his remains in Thonon-les-Bains after the cremation in Paris.
As a result of earlier planning, I was due to have a weekend in Amsterdam around this time to be present for the first concert outside South African of LJ, the musician who had been supported by the Amani Harmonic Foundation Trust. It was surreal. I was aware of the time for the cremation, which was before the concert. I was able to find a piano and light candles and play for Ronald gently alone behind a curtain in the small auditorium, where an hour later people would be enthusiastically welcoming LJ. Again, J was present and sensitive, placing sunflowers in a vase on the stage. Some dear Dutch friends who had known Ronald were also with me.
Then returning to Thonon on Monday morning, 21 November 2011, I went straight to the funeral parlor. There I found the dark blue velvet bag with a cream coloured clay urn inside. I placed it on my lap, surprised at its weight. I sat for a long time, knowing I would soon be meeting Ronald’s brother and youngest sister who were expected to arrive by boat, and after having lunch together we would be going out onto the lake – Ronald’s beloved Lac Leman.
So J was with us for this significant moment. His first meeting of Ronald’s family. The four of us walked down to the quayside, my arm in my brother-in-law’s, his mouth clenched and clearly uncomfortable. The ville de Thonon had made a boat available – the small orange and blue rescue boat which we often saw going out on the lake before or during storms from the windows of our apartment. A sturdy little craft, la Belle de Rives, and I was surprised at how big it was when we clambered aboard.
There was the captain and his mate. Another man dressed in black from the funeral parlor, with black gloves and unsmiling, had obviously transported the urn, which was perched on a stool. It had quite a presence and both Ronald’s brother and sister were visibly moved when they were confronted with it. A lovely woman from the funeral parlor, whom I had earlier connected with when we finally knew that this was going to happen, had thought of something totally amazing…
Apart from the huge basket of white roses placed on the deck, which she had managed to find on a Monday morning when absolutely everything is closed, there was a small sound system placed under the captain’s wheel which was now turning as the engines sprung into life and we made our way out into the centre of Lac Leman.
I felt the fresh crisp air on my cheeks as the craft spun out across the water. It was calm. It was a truly beautiful day for late November. The sun, plutonium, touching everything with an incredible radiance. Each one of us on the boat silent in our own space with our own private thoughts as we sped to the centre. It was about thirty minutes till we reached the point; almost the boundary between France and Switzerland. I could see Nyon clearly now, where we had spent the first half of our life together. We had to stop on the French side of the ‘boundary’, the boat dropped anchor, and the cadastral points were noted.
And then our ceremony got underway, unrehearsed, spontaneous as always. Perfect in the moment. Ronald’s siblings had each had time to hold the urn looking pensively out across the lake, and then it was my turn. The velvet bag had been removed. The back of the boat had been dropped so that it was flat with the waterline, which lapped gently. No waves. I stood on the edge of this lowered portion and squatted down, reaching up for the urn which the captain handed me. It was heavy and I felt the extra weight taken up in my thighs as I squatted with the urn in my arms. Then I heard it… the music wafting out across the water. This wonderful woman had the first track of the CD Into the Lightplaying … Au Revoir. I had given her a copy the week before when we first discussed what might happen. And here it was, happening. Au revoir. I whispered quietly to Ronald my farewell, my love, my gratitude… and my music endorsed this outpouring from my soul.
Then when I was ready, I was ready, and the clearest of waters lay beneath us. The first track had come to an end and that wonderful woman jumped straight to the final track Into the light. It was time to allow the urn to slip gently from my embrace, and indeed it was an embrace, and to let it slide slowly into the clear transparent crystalline waters. I watched it spiraling slowly down, seeing it for ages… turning gracefully, tilting, a stream of bubbles rising to the surface. Beautiful.
I then became aware that I was being held at both shoulders of my coat, one side by the captain and the other side by J. I was completely frozen, stuck, and could not move or raise myself, very unsteady and very close to the water. They had both held me as I lived these final moments with Ronald. I reached both hands up to them, knowing that I could easily topple over into the icy water. And I was lifted up, lifted up as the music found its final notes. Into the Light.
And then I watched the final magical unfolding as each of the white roses which had been scattered from all around the boat made its way, significantly, decisively, purposefully to a single point now several meters from the boat where the graceful urn made of clay, which would dissolve at some future date, had disappeared[1].
I was convinced that seen from above this interlocking cluster of long-stemmed white roses had formed itself into the shape of a heart. In silence we turned the boat and skimmed back on the silvery grey mirror of Lac Leman with the platinum sun and unforgettable luminosity held in our hearts, and in the knowledge that I had accomplished Ronald’s wish.
[1] On arrival back at the port, The captain gave me an envelope with the co-ordinates of where we had stopped in the middle of lac Leman. 46’23’:611N Longitude E and 006’19:159E Latitude N.