We were a select little group, drawn together by our love for an esoteric form of music – opera. Each month the Castlemaine Theatre Royal showed a magnificent production on film of an opera from the New York Metropolitan Opera Series, and every month we caught up with a coffee and chat before the film began.
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They welcomed us, the Castlemaine troop, we newcomers from the next town, grateful for another two ‘bums on seats’ which helped encourage the owner of the theatre to continue the series.
We’ve enjoyed leisurely afternoons and evenings since our first meeting; lunches, DVD swapping and two complete performances, three years apart, of Wagner’s Ring Cycle in Melbourne - a mammoth commitment but one we all enjoyed together.
Music resonates in all of us and always manages to bring people together, whether rock ‘n roll, pop, classical or jazz.
With Christmas and school holidays intervening in the last few months since the Ring Cycle in December, we haven’t been in touch except through the occasional email.
The films are sadly no longer shown at the beautiful old Theatre Royal, so there is less reason to drive over to Castlemaine.
This week we received a brief email from our friend to say the cancer was back, this time with a vengeance, and she was managing at home with palliative care and her husband as her carer.
I rang immediately.
Our friend was as usual practical, stoic, still in charge of her life and wanting to say her farewells before it became too hard; and listening to music of course.
I took the phone outside to my peaceful gentle garden as we spoke.
I listened as she told me of her recent treatment, and the battle she was losing.
Cancer takes no prisoners when it returns with such vengeance.
We spoke of her loving husband, her children, our shared friendship.
Rob and I planned to visit her this week. Our friend expressed a desire to to say goodbye to us in person, and we wanted to say our farewells to her.
We were to take the DVD of the opera Nabucco to her. She spoke of wanting to see the opera with Placido Domingo in the starring role. These good friends cherish all that life offers. Before we could visit we received the phone call from her husband.
We’re at an age now where this scenario is being played out more frequently.
Our friend acknowledged wisely, as do we, that none of us lives forever, but we all seek just a little more time....and a little more time. We’re greedy for life, particularly when we have grandchildren.
We hope to be there to see them tackle each next stage of life with confidence and resilience.
We have been the lucky generation. Our lives have been free from the savagery and horror that parts of the world have endured. We’ve not experienced great personal wealth but we have seen our children grow and prosper, our homes increase in value to enable us to move to better options as we ourselves grow older, and to recognise that this is all part of the journey of the lived experience of our lives.
Our friend assured me she was at peace; she had come to terms with whatever time she had left.
I take strength from her courage.
I hope wherever she is there is great music, especially great opera.
We shall all miss her. Can I be so brave? I hope so. Vale Felicity.
ANNIE YOUNG