Motu
4th April 2007, 23:01
I dropped into see my parents this afternoon as I'm not going to be in Auckland much from now on.While I was cleaning their shared headstone,and as I had a bit of time I thought I'd look for an old friend - it's easy as it's all on computer in the office,and they print you a map.He was only a few rows from where we put my mother's ashes under my father's headstone a couple of years ago.
I remember the night he died,in 1974 - we were talking to him over the fence,he was so upbeat.He had just got out of detox for the third time,said he had finally kicked heroin out of his life.He was going to Australia the next day.....and he OD'd that night.We were 20.I didn't know him that well,he was just good friends with my mates.But I remember the first time I walked into their place,a filthy long haired hippy/biker - and his mother said ''Oh,hi there Paul''.'Uh,hello Mrs Miller'.She laughed and said ''You don't know me do you? But I know you,Brian used to bring you home after school,we lived in the next street to you''.
The funeral was one not to forget....there was a service in a hall,then we had a hearse procession to the cemetry,we rode our bikes and it rained all the time.It was the full deal with pall bearers bringing the coffin to the grave site....then one of the pall bearers had an epileptic fit and they dropped the coffin and it nearly went down the hole.It happened right in front of me,and all the women cracked up.It was totally surreal in the pouring rain.All funerals have been a let down since.The headstone had lichen on it,he may not get many visitors these days,but I left some of my pens in the flower holder.
Good to catch up with you after all these years Murkin.
I remember the night he died,in 1974 - we were talking to him over the fence,he was so upbeat.He had just got out of detox for the third time,said he had finally kicked heroin out of his life.He was going to Australia the next day.....and he OD'd that night.We were 20.I didn't know him that well,he was just good friends with my mates.But I remember the first time I walked into their place,a filthy long haired hippy/biker - and his mother said ''Oh,hi there Paul''.'Uh,hello Mrs Miller'.She laughed and said ''You don't know me do you? But I know you,Brian used to bring you home after school,we lived in the next street to you''.
The funeral was one not to forget....there was a service in a hall,then we had a hearse procession to the cemetry,we rode our bikes and it rained all the time.It was the full deal with pall bearers bringing the coffin to the grave site....then one of the pall bearers had an epileptic fit and they dropped the coffin and it nearly went down the hole.It happened right in front of me,and all the women cracked up.It was totally surreal in the pouring rain.All funerals have been a let down since.The headstone had lichen on it,he may not get many visitors these days,but I left some of my pens in the flower holder.
Good to catch up with you after all these years Murkin.