managed to get a copy of the original advertisement, God knows where. But he had it framed and I kept it on my dressing table, and when I used to put my lipstick on each day I’d think, there you are, Sissy! Armed for the fray, and I’d pat the picture. The Start-rite kids. The children holding hands with the long road before them. Why did it mean so much to us? Is it all just the memory of childhood dreams?
I can’t think of those things any more, or of the weariness of carrying all this love from him. It’s heavy, his love. He just won’t take it away. It’s tiring me out. All his love. And his voice comes back, “Sissy, travelling down the road with you was all I have ever wanted in life. And I’ll tell you something else, that’s all there is in life. It is the greatest thing in life. The glory of it Sissy! The beauty of it. So no matter how long this takes, I’ll wait. I’ll wait for the slightest sign from you and then I’ll wait for the sign after and then I’ll make you laugh a few times and I’ll bring you a pair of shoes from Dublin or a pale blue silk scarf or a new twinset. Blue’s your colour. Miss Coyle will help me with the shade. I’ll wait, because I know you won’t wear it for a while because colour will hurt you. But one day you will wear it and I’ll be there waiting for you to look at me again, really look at me. And I’ll wait for the day you walk head-high up the road and I’ll notice that your feet lift a little and I’ll know that within maybe a year or so you’ll walk the way you once did. So gracefully, Sissy. I loved to walk beside you. You’ll go back to your lipstick and I’ll buy you a gold compact, old and beautiful. I’ll search in those little shops in Dublin where secret histories are wrapped up in little velvet envelopes and I’ll be drawn to the right one, the one owned by a woman who was loved day and night, night and day by a man who couldn’t believe that he had walking beside him the treasure of all the world. Oh I’ll wait, Sissy.”
Indeed you will, Tom. Poor Tom, you’ll always wait for me. But I’m gone Tom, I’m gone. Then I thought, try to help him Sissy. For old times’ sake. Haul yourself up through all these layers of silence, which press on me down here in this place that I stay in now. It’s a hidden, animal place. Try, Sissy. Try, for old times’ sake. I did. You can give me that. I found a few words: “I’m lying here, Tom, listening to the loveliness of all this but it’s as though the words are just wisps of poetry that I don’t understand. I’m so sorry but I can’t love any thing.” Oh, but he would not stop. Love-lines pouring out of him. Until I had to say again, a bit louder this time, “Stop loving me! I’m too tired for love.” “You’re full of love Sissy. It’s just frozen at the moment. I think it’s to protect you. Even to feel a little love now would hurt too much. You’re all bruised by love and by the absence of who you loved. That’s what it is, a constant absence. He’s missing.” I couldn’t stand it. I shouted at him: “But he’s missing in the house. In the house, Tom! Do you understand? In the house!” I could hear Tom crying beside me. What else could he do? What else could I do? Nothing.
After a long time he whispered, “We’ll walk around the house Sissy, in and out of bedrooms, and we’ll find him again one day, the easier memories.” “It’s his absence we’ll find. That’s all, Tom.” “Well Sissy, if that’s all, maybe absence has its own power. Maybe you can snuggle an absence down in you. Honour it. Love it. Come on, Sissy. Come for a walk with me around the house. Let me take your hand my lovely love, we’ll walk around this house in a dream … into every room and tell each other how it is that we remember him … look, the door of our bedroom … remember how he’d peer in, such a skinny, sunny lad, a bit too soft for his own good, and then he’d go scuttling back to
I can’t think of those things any more, or of the weariness of carrying all this love from him. It’s heavy, his love. He just won’t take it away. It’s tiring me out. All his love. And his voice comes back, “Sissy, travelling down the road with you was all I have ever wanted in life. And I’ll tell you something else, that’s all there is in life. It is the greatest thing in life. The glory of it Sissy! The beauty of it. So no matter how long this takes, I’ll wait. I’ll wait for the slightest sign from you and then I’ll wait for the sign after and then I’ll make you laugh a few times and I’ll bring you a pair of shoes from Dublin or a pale blue silk scarf or a new twinset. Blue’s your colour. Miss Coyle will help me with the shade. I’ll wait, because I know you won’t wear it for a while because colour will hurt you. But one day you will wear it and I’ll be there waiting for you to look at me again, really look at me. And I’ll wait for the day you walk head-high up the road and I’ll notice that your feet lift a little and I’ll know that within maybe a year or so you’ll walk the way you once did. So gracefully, Sissy. I loved to walk beside you. You’ll go back to your lipstick and I’ll buy you a gold compact, old and beautiful. I’ll search in those little shops in Dublin where secret histories are wrapped up in little velvet envelopes and I’ll be drawn to the right one, the one owned by a woman who was loved day and night, night and day by a man who couldn’t believe that he had walking beside him the treasure of all the world. Oh I’ll wait, Sissy.”
Indeed you will, Tom. Poor Tom, you’ll always wait for me. But I’m gone Tom, I’m gone. Then I thought, try to help him Sissy. For old times’ sake. Haul yourself up through all these layers of silence, which press on me down here in this place that I stay in now. It’s a hidden, animal place. Try, Sissy. Try, for old times’ sake. I did. You can give me that. I found a few words: “I’m lying here, Tom, listening to the loveliness of all this but it’s as though the words are just wisps of poetry that I don’t understand. I’m so sorry but I can’t love any thing.” Oh, but he would not stop. Love-lines pouring out of him. Until I had to say again, a bit louder this time, “Stop loving me! I’m too tired for love.” “You’re full of love Sissy. It’s just frozen at the moment. I think it’s to protect you. Even to feel a little love now would hurt too much. You’re all bruised by love and by the absence of who you loved. That’s what it is, a constant absence. He’s missing.” I couldn’t stand it. I shouted at him: “But he’s missing in the house. In the house, Tom! Do you understand? In the house!” I could hear Tom crying beside me. What else could he do? What else could I do? Nothing.
After a long time he whispered, “We’ll walk around the house Sissy, in and out of bedrooms, and we’ll find him again one day, the easier memories.” “It’s his absence we’ll find. That’s all, Tom.” “Well Sissy, if that’s all, maybe absence has its own power. Maybe you can snuggle an absence down in you. Honour it. Love it. Come on, Sissy. Come for a walk with me around the house. Let me take your hand my lovely love, we’ll walk around this house in a dream … into every room and tell each other how it is that we remember him … look, the door of our bedroom … remember how he’d peer in, such a skinny, sunny lad, a bit too soft for his own good, and then he’d go scuttling back to
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