From Blog to Blook

I've been planning to try to create a hardcopy version of the Helen blog. I think reading back over our journey will be easier and more user friendly that way - and also saves the story in case something changes with blogger and it vanishes forever. One barrier to actually making this idea a reality though has been the elusive sixth poem. I know there were six poems chosen from Helen's work and read at the funeral - but I cannot remember the sixth. Pretty much the day after the funeral I collapsed with exhaustion and emotion in equal parts and thus abandoned the blog all of a sudden. Whenever I have gone back to it thinking that now it is time to finish and make it into a photo book I have been blocked by the gap left by that poem. I've checked in with Kaye, Louis, Douglas and Dave but none of us know...so it seems it will have to remain a mystery.

Poems from the funeral 5/6

The Difference


My hair's gone wild for the weekend -
A good thing, too.
Glad it can tell the difference,
Sometimes the rest of me can't. >

Poems from the funeral 4/6

Of Hearts and Sleeves and Keys and Things


We didn't wear lockets
of hair or tiny pictures
or gold bracelets
with heart-shaped padlocks
in my family or signet rings
or bluebirds of happiness
or even charm bracelets.


Were they wanton
in some unmentionable way
precursor to wearing your heart
on your sleeve
or maybe idolatrous
like those pretty statues
and plastic shrines
in the mysterious windows
of Pellegrini's
or heathen hocus-pocus things
or merely worldly?


Maybe that's why
though I treasure yours
I don't offer you my door-key?

Poems from the funeral 3/6

Death of a Cat
I've buried a tawny frogmouth, Mum,
a bush-pigeon and an echidna
I'll find a special tree
for Ms Puss


Ms Puss
who'd kept herself aloof
except for him
the little boy meantime grown man
Ms Puss, once Mrs whose name
he'd changed at the vet's -
after her operation, Mum -
Ms Puss they carried on a board
from the road
after the children heard her cry

Poems from the funeral 2/6

The Makings

The fright of a
Fuck!
or
Jesus!
screamed
into my mothering ear!

The words themselves
additional to the fact
of teenage anger
accessories to the fact
bring their own
particular pain,
spikes on the mallet
that beats my head.

Later, she admonishes
my tears of shock,
and shame, bourgeois fear:
'I didn't tell you to
Fuck off!"
Will I learn
the fine gradations?
Do I ever want to?
Must I?
Or will it soon be over?

I have become a prude for her
as my mother before me for me.

Poems from the Funeral 1/6

Who’s Turning the Kaleidoscope? Kaleidoscopic fragments of your war-time years spin through my mind: starting Medicine at the Sorbonne, black-marketed nylons and cigarettes, Mercedes hidden in haystacks, people hidden in haystacks poked by bayonets, men in a boat, you amongst them, betrayed by a girl one of them slept with – one of you, I should perhaps say, though I never have till now… The mouth of a cave blackened by gun-powder - yours or your enemy’s? Someone’s ambush. Having to dig a trench – or was it a pit? then line up, all of you, along the edge, machine-guns at your backs: shrapnel in your legs saw you fall with the others, but the miracle was you did not suffocate before the guerrillas found you and one other out of all that lot. Someone has pointed out that you don’t get shrapnel from machine-guns. That’s right, I realise. Don’t know any more if it’s your kaleidoscope or mine that has mingled the fragments, but I do remember those unusual scars on your shins. I remember that word and I have watched your tormented sleep. The camps, you being nick-named Ghandhi after release – so thin from typhoid. You a translator, relied on for your eight languages, able to get privileges – was this the time of nylons, cigarettes and Mercedes? You hungry and unemployed in Paris. No benefits to refuse in the France of ’45. For the Stateless Person: No job without a permit to stay, (I have your Permis de Sejour still) No permit to stay without a job. You spent all day in one queue, next day in the other, you told me. Queue-jumping, meaning refusal to queue, has become a catchword of blame in Australian politics, you might be interested to know, though many of the countries to which it is applied have no queues for people to join. In one of the camps, a woman and child, a little boy you’d later adopt, a beautiful woman you’d later marry. He stuck with you because you stuck with him when she did not. And now he is our family, though you are gone. A child’s satin-covered missal from his first communion holds your joint naturalisation papers: talismans of your new life. He leaves it in my care. Trusts me with that and other things. On his rare trips north, he used to arrive sometimes unannounced, but we came to know who would be sleeping in any van with the dashboard smothered in fallen blooms. Stone-mason sings: At the end of all this, I’ll scoop up frangipanni – handfuls, armfuls, facefuls of fragrant white and gold, cool suede, rich and fresh. In my bed I’ll roll in it, crush its beauty for my own like a cat in catnip.

A link to a booklet about the funeral and the wake

Douglas put together a digital booklet with a few photographs - if you copy and paste this link into your browser you should see a pdf version you can download and print if you so desire: http://www.dugfish.com/Helen.pdf

Helen's Funeral/Celebration, the wake and cremation

The Funeral/Life Celebration Many wonderful people travelled to Darwin to farewell Helen, sent their love and thoughts in physical ways as well as virtually via the web and also gathered from amongst her Darwin community. Notable in the interstate and international visitors were some of her family - Robin, David, Jennifer, Dorothy, Jamie, Alex and Greig: siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins as well as Lyn, a dear friend from Melbourne Uni days and Peta, a special friend and colleague from Brisbane. Also Douglas, Dave, Emma and Susan. Our friends Gabe, Diane, Susan and Emma made food for the celebration gathering and the wake. We had our life celebration at the Uniting Church in Nightcliff and their kind one-time minister Lee made himself available to support us and facilitate our ceremony. As it turns out Lee is also a poet and he particularly enjoyed being introduced to Helen's work. We began with an acknowledgement of the Church and its space, an acknowledgement of the Larrakia and a welcome from Louis. All family members and several friends had brought flowers from the gardens and roadsides of Darwin and the space was strewn with Frangipanni, Poinsettia, Heliconia and those big salmon-tinted tissue-paper flowers that grow near Helen's old house. We had Shirley's portrait and the decoupaged coffin out the front. On the side there was an installation of family photo albums, slideshows of photos of Helen on a computer and this blog running live on another computer for those who had never seen it. Douglas projected a photo of Helen laughing up above the lectern. The music to welcome people was the Cistercian Monk chants that Helen used to so enjoy when she was having contemplative time at home alone. Louis, Sally and I all learnt to enjoy these during her illness. After his welcome Louis invited us all to share a few minutes contemplation in silence. We thought of Helen and what she meant to us and why we had come together. Robin came forward and shared some thoughts of Helen as a young girl and also memories he was given by some of the older members of our family who had not been able to come in person. One I liked (and had not heard before) was how Cynthia - Helen's aunt and an academic at Melbourne Uni used to find messages from Mum chalked on the footpath in front of her office! Nothing too outre - most often invitations to lunch or some-such but still delightfully eccentric. Eccentricity, quirkiness, charm and creativity were hallmarks of all the stories and memories brought forth. Douglas spoke - his memories include Helen flooring it on the Western Highway in a borrowed 2CV and shouting Whoopee! as he held tightly to the car door. He also acknowledged how special he thought she was as a therapist in her combination of art with practice. Helen's dear friend Kaye shared memories of how they met at a writing workshop soon after Helen came to the NT and of their firm friendship thereafter. I read 6 poems from Helen's collected works including one unpublished. I will post them in the next few blog entries. We had another minute or sos silence for reflection then Dave read a piece about Death from the Prophet - Khalil Gibran - a favourite book (and author) throughout Helen's life. "And when the Earth shall claim your limbs then shall you truly dance" I then invited people to come forward and write words on the coffin if they wished, mingle and share cupcakes and tea, peruse the photos and other installation work and if they felt inclined - to choose a memento from the selection of household items, jewelry and crockery I had assembled near the front door. We also had copies of Helen's published poetry for people to take away as well as photocopies of an interview done with Nadia Milosevic which profiled Helen for the Australian and New Zealand Journal of Family Therapy back in 2009 before she got sick. In closing we played the soundtrack to a performance of "The Grimstones" - a piece of music which made Helen smile whenever she heard it. Our celebration was everything Louis and I wanted it to be and many others found the ceremony both moving and appropriate for Helen. The Wake We gathered on the Nightcliff Foreshore as planned. Kaye was the first arrival having stayed in Darwin all day after the funeral. She was sitting under the Casuarinas enjoying the antics of the black cockies , the rainbow lorikeets and the sea breeze but not savouring the sandflies quite so much. It struck me that this too was an apposite experience in memory of Helen, who had many conflicting times between her desire to enjoy time with friends by the sea and her desire to avoid being devoured by midgies! We had an abundance of champagne, cool water, delicious snacks (rice paper rolls, dips and quiches) and lots of people came to spend time with us and remember Helen in a joyous manner. As sunset approached there was a wonderful light-show over the ocean with a wet season storm circling around us. Lightning, thunder, a wonderful breeze and beautiful patterns in the sky. The Cremation Initially we had planned the cremation would happen on the Wednesday - in between the morning and evening gatherings. There were various confusions regarding paperwork and organisation and in the end we deferred it until Thursday. I felt quite relieved about this as it had all seemed a bit too much on Wednesday. In my original thinking I had planned that just Louis and I would go and say goodbye to Mum in the coffin (now added to with wishes and words from many loved ones). It turned out that some of those visiting really wanted to be part of this too and as things transpired - thank goodness! It would have been very peculiar for just poor little us to be there on our own. The company we chose for the cremation is a family business that has been around for quite a long time (since 1954 in fact!). They were the people I originally bought the coffin from and although they were somewhat odd at the time they were also earnest and intent on looking after us as best they could. In the beginning they had some trouble accepting that we wanted to do everything ourselves and in our own way but once this was clear we planned that we would attend for the cremation only. We had been told that the company had recently bought its own new cremating oven and they had also prepared a "viewing room" out the back for families to gaze in at the oven through a small window. We arrived at 7.30am on Thursday - Louis, me, Robin, Jennifer, Dorothy and Peta. The "viewing room" was singularly awful. Very new bessa brink room, painted some bland colour and without any ornamentation. Ugly new sofa in one corner. Tight, "hard-wearing" plasticky grey carpet. A greyish roller blind covering a small window set asymmetrically on an internal wall. And most disturbingly - a horribly pervasive chemically smell which may have been from the carpet and the sofa but seemed very much like burning. In the past when I have attended cremations in Brisbane the coffin has trundled down a conveyor belt sort of thing and then disappeared behind curtains. In this case everything is way more upfront. We were invited into the room with the oven which was a large grey metal machine sitting in state surrounded by a clean concrete slab and plain painted bessa brick walls. Helen's coffin was sitting on a trolley/gurney in front of it. We arranged frangipanis and hair (from our hair-shaving ceremony back in Brisbane at the beginning of chemo) along the top of the coffin, admired it with its new inscriptions and said our farewells. We then retired to the "viewing room" and he raised the roller blind. Looking in we saw exactly where we had been standing a few moments earlier and the machine in all its glory. With a nod (and a certain air of solemnity) he pushed Helen's coffin inside and set the dials to start. It took about 1.5 seconds! He then emerged and stated that some people like to hear about the machine and how it works. With barely a pause to ascertain whether we were that kind or not he was off! A monologue of impressive proportions had begun. He ranged from technical details of cremation, his own practice and beliefs in this area, his philosophy on choosing a wife, his parents' background and reasons for starting the business (including admittedly fascinating Darwin historical detail on how deaths were dealt with back in the 50s), what life was like when he used to work as a musterer (plus how much he earnt a week when mustering vs funeral directing) and then gave us chapter and verse on the great job satisfaction inherent in his current role. It was apparent he feels he does a great job. We were all somewhat hornswoggled. I made a few gentle and then less gentle attempts to wind him up and eventually we left. As Dorothy, Jennifer, Peta and I drove away we marveled at his lack of insight and sensitivity to social cues but also mused on how delightfully peculiar and entertaining the experience was and how much we thought Helen would have enjoyed it. Both Louis and I were glad to have had both the company and social support that we did for this decidedly non-spiritual and non-meaningful experience and glad too that the day before had gone so much as we had hoped.

Venue for Helen's Drinks tonight

Despite the rumblings of thunder and gloominess of sky we are gathering on the Nightcliff foreshore from six ish tonight (Wed 7th). Corner of Jacaranda ave and Casuarina drive. We have eskies with ice, bubbles, water, dips, snacks and a variety of yummy things... So come if you can and watch the storm roll in over the Arafura Sea as we say farewell.

Helen's Farewell

Dear Natasha & Louis,   It is with a heaviness in my heart and a lump in my throat that I write to you at this sad time.   Helen was my first professional supervisor nearly three decades ago. While I had known Frank as a charismatic and somewhat enigmatic teacher, I came to know Helen through many discussions at Weinholt Street. Her practice then left the first indelible etchings on my mind. She charged for her services as supervisor on the basis that one hour of her time was worth one of the supervisees'. Humility has no better definition. And later, she allowed me to be counted amongst her friends. Felt honoured then, still do.  

Helen remained a trusted , wise colleague with whom many clients were discussed over many, many years. Some took place late at night when she would welcome me into her home after I finished work and ply me thoughtfully and generously with food and drink. The conversations often had little preamble. "Hi Helen. Can I talk to you about these people I'm seeing?" No matter that at times weeks or months between contact had elapsed. While her poetry provoked me, her supervision focussed me. Both had characteristic Helen-isms: sharp, astute observation of self and others, confrontation eclipsed by compassion, contagiously wonderful,carefully-chosen expression.

 

Interspersed in my life are intensely Helen experiences. The Ladies Labourers Guild, the Family Court, QPASST, family therapy, introducing my kids to chickens in the back yard, wampi tree planting, a story about being hen-pecked especially for the middle anxious one, gifts of German secateurs(still used) and 9 miniature Israeli vases depicting my pregnancy. The professional and the personal interwoven always. An all time high was her very welcomed attendance at my older kids bat and bar mitzvah. She distinguished herself by being the only guest (including family) to attend the rabbi's talk prior to one service. He was delighted. Such was her whole-hearted involvement.

 

Helen paved the way for me to meet and come to know you both a bit. You're lucky in life when people extend and enrich your tiny world. You both have. From seeing Natasha the circus performer and  experiencing Louis the yoga teacher to some meaningful, cherished conversations. Like your mother, on the occasions we talk, it's unpretentious, direct and allows me to be as honest and complete as I can be. Thank you. I regret I could not be with Helen more and support you in your devoted care of her.

 

In my Jewish world, the term for Helen would be 'A Woman of Worth'. If I could, this is what I would write on her coffin. The description continues"her price is far above rubies". Hers is a life well lived, rich and varied in its gifts. I will miss her.

 

Love,

 

Peta

A few images from Helen's life in Darwin

Bananas she grew at St John's Court - cut down with the bread knife as is traditional in our family!

The tiniest of green frogs - Helen delighted in breeding frogs in her various abodes.

Tropical fruit - also a delight.

The housewarming waterlily I gave her some years ago - it's first flower in the pond that Louis built.

Plans for funeral/life celebration and gathering

Louis and I have planned to have a morning celebration of Helen's life in Nightcliff at 10am on Wednesday 7th December. This will be followed by a morning tea thingy. In the afternoon Louis and I and the odd family member will go out to the Resthaven Funeral Home for her cremation and we are thinking of hosting sunset bubbles on the Nightcliff Foreshore (one of Helen's favourite things to do) as a mini-wake. The life celebration ceremony will be at the Nightcliff Uniting Church at 35 Cummins St, Nightcliff. The Church is a lovely social justice oriented community which has been very welcoming and supportive of our family and although we and our ceremony will be very non-religious they have generously offered to host us and we are very happy to be there. I still plan to ask people to write on the coffin and have been sent a few words to write for other people - if you are coming bring a word in your mind :). As far as the wake goes - please watch this space for more info as I feel the need to go and check it out for mozzies, breezes, sun etc before locking that in as a definite plan. Both events will be casual and open and anyone who has love and caring for Helen is welcome. Those planning to come from interstate it would be good to plan to stay Tuesday night through to Thursday morning at least. We have some accommodation options amongst our friends and neighbours so please let us know if you are coming.

Sad news at 1.15pm today

Before Dave could return to the hospital, or Louis or I return to Darwin, Helen passed away. The hospice staff were with her - David was reading from her poetry book, Hayley the music therapist was playing music to her and between one breath and the next, she stopped. It was peaceful and quiet. I'm glad she didn't have to suffer fevers, cough or breathing troubles for very long. From all accounts she did not seem distressed either during the morning or in the time leading up to death. The Hospice has offered to keep her in her room until we have had a chance to come and be with her. I will arrive at 7.30 and Louis at 10.30 tonight.

30th November 2011

It sounds as if Helen has pneumonia. Dave says he spent a few hours with her this morning and she was not rouse able and had fairly noisy rapid breathing. Later on the pall care doctors came round and said that she has a significant fever as well. I will be back in Darwin tonight and plan to go straight out to the hospital. I think Louis plans to come up tomorrow. In the interim Dave is going to sit with her.

29th November 2011

Doug left Darwin a week ago and Dave and I arrived. Louis is still in Victoria. Restarting work has been busy for me. I've visited Helen 3 times only in the week just gone and I'm in Alice now for work and won't see her again til Thursday. On the visits I have had, I've had a little conversation each time. The first was much the best as she recognised my voice and we spoke intermittently for about 10 minutes - all fantastical things from her mind such as worrying she would crush some eggs she was carrying - but it was lovely to be recognised and to feel that if I joined in and reassured her about the eggs she was reassured. The other two visits she ate/drank a few mouthfuls and recognised me but it was very brief in terms of interaction and she basically fell asleep again for the rest of each visit. I hear from the nurses that Kaye has been in a bit but I haven't crossed paths with her. It was lovely to read Kathy's card to Helen and to receive Maureen and Dorothy's recent missives. I haven't yet been able to try to read them to Helen - she's not really withit enough. Dave is going to visit her today on my behalf. Robin (Helen's brother) plans to arrive next week for a few days and I think Louis will return sometime toward the end of next week also.

Thursday 17th November 2011

Doug is in Darwin now and both Louis and I are in Victoria. Louis found it very hard to leave as Helen has been increasingly sleepy and confused and he felt she was starting to come to the end. This message from Doug this morning was very cheering to both of us: "After being asleep for the last 2 days and hardly eating anything Helen was awake when I came in this morning - she laughed at some of my jokes and ate half a bowl of scrambled eggs, and drank half a cup of milo. She said "this is wonderful food". She also said she would see if Robin and David could take her to Mooroolbark. I said she could look after her chickens there, and she smiled and said "Yes, that'd be fun". I asked her if she had goats there too, and she said "I've seen pictures, but I've never been there"."

13th November 2011

I've just returned to Natimuk. Louis is still doing solo duty with Helen. From the sounds of things it's been pretty hard on him. She is still sleepy, drinking a little, talking sometimes but often confused and talking about things going on in her imagination. He has been trying to visit her 2-3 times a day at the hospice and says he does feel she is aware of him and derives comfort from his presence and reassurance but having said that there's no point making long visits as she is so out of it. The hospice is a 20 minute drive from Helen's house in The Gardens so that is an exhausting regime and he hasn't had any companionship up there just lately. I don't plan to return until the 21st at the earliest and possibly the 23rd. Am trying to think of a way to provide Louis with a respite break that he will still feel gives Helen enough support that he can feel ok about letting go and I can finish my business down here before returning to Darwin.

4th November 2011

Over the last week Helen sounds to have been fairly stable. Last week Dr A called me to say they felt she was deteriorating - drinking less, more sleepy and more confused. Louis was able to come South for my birthday as our cousin Kathy flew up and spent 5 days or so relieving him. It sounds like that went well and Louis has now returned to take over day to day care. I am overseas for another week and don't have regular phone or internet contact so the blog won't be the best source of up to date info until I get back to Australia. Having said that Louis emails me and I will check email often.

Helen

  To the blog, I hope (Judith Steele)

 

I did not know Helen as well as many others did. But during 2008 I was lucky to spend time with Helen and Kaye, in triangular poetry discussions, and work on our own writng. Helen was working on "So Many Versions of a Life" at the time . I think she was unwell for some of  that year, but did not discuss how she felt, and I left Darwin at the end of that year. I was shocked in 2009, to hear she had cancer.  I loved Hugh Crago's poem 20/10/09 about Helen being  fiercely caring, fiercely intelligent. Whatever other words I use---integrity, kindness, humour, sharp but compassionate perceptiveness – they are summed up by those phrases.

I saw her again only for a few days in Melbourne in December 2010. I feel as if I have had more contact with her than that, because of Natasha's blog, all the news and photos.  Thankyou Natasha. Thankyou Natasha and Louis for keeping Helen in contact with everyone.

Rereading a letter Helen sent me 7/4/09, I see that the theme of fierceness recurs, although it is as part of a discussion and quote from a poem by Elaine Feinstein I had copied out for her. (Book lost by me in shifting, but it was about putting one's creative life first, entitled Muse).  Helen talks of not doing the things she likes until she can show proper progress  in the area of duty, thus foregoing the " strengthening"of her "fierce and obstinate centre" which could have "defended" her. (words in italics quoted by Helen from the poem).

Well, I am glad there were many times when she allowed her Muse to speak, often fiercely. Helen, for me you are first and foremost a poet, and if I were to contribute any words to your coffin, they would be HELEN the POET. (But I think this will already be all over your coffin) .

Love and thanks from Judith S.

IN THE TRADE

Jars of acid and

exfoliating cream

tools of the poet

(p 66, Helen Pavlin, Collected Poems,, 1993)

 

 

tribute

Dear Natasha, Louis and Helen

I am thinking of you now as the time of parting draws near. Reflecting too on the past - back to Brisbane and my social work training at Queensland University in the late 1960's where I first met Frank and Helen. Frank I knew as my tutor, Helen I knew less well. However there was one important and lovely way in which Helen touched on my life then which I would like to share.

A few of us social work graduates decided to get a job working in Melbourne and we were looking for accommodation. Somewhere in the background Helen's voice emerged, suggesting that her uncle Arthur Turner might have a house to rent. And so it happened. Three of us young women, tottering on the brink of adulthood, the world at our trembling with excitement, omnipotent feet  took up residence in a solid, comfortable house in trendy north Carlton owned by her benevolent, beaming uncle Arthur. That house was a focus and it provided us with a containing structure through the pain and magic of growing up over the following three years, where enduring friendships were also formed.  That was a special experience in my life and Helen contributed to it. She showed herself a generous and sensitive person.

Thank you, Helen.

MB