Robbie and Tolkien

I wonder if tonight will be right?  It's such a beautiful evening and a surprise there’s not a lot of other walkers in the park.  I might get away with it.  I’m glad I brought everything in my backpack, just in case.

He loved this sort of Spring weather.  How many times did we do all these walks together?  Must have been hundreds, I reckon.  Those early days he was at Uni and invited me up to stay with him and his roommate.  Gosh, he was a weirdo.  What was his name now?  Um… let me think.  Was it Malcolm? No … Morrie? … No, Michael? Ah, Mike, that’s what it was.  If I remember rightly, he was quite a bit older and finishing his course.  Yes, he had a beetle, a v-dub. Those little cars with vent windows that let no air in, only fumes.  Made me carsick whenever we went out.  And the noise was like riding a lawnmower. But eventually, Robbie got his own car, a Corolla, blue one.  Much quieter.  Then someone pinched it, parked out the front it was too. Gee, that really pee-ed him off.   Police found it written off.  Poor Robbie never had much luck with cars.

There’s the oak trees, lined up like old men waiting for a bus. I love their wrinkles, their age. I can see us now, sitting on their big raised roots and leaning back into their strong trunks.  Something special about those times I’ll never forget them. Robbie would start a story about us, and we’d take turns changing our lives into a fairy tale.  He had such an endless imagination; I was spellbound when he got going.  I would drift off into the magic of his stories and he would have to wake me up.  'C’mon Suze,’ he’d say, stroking my hair, ‘Time to head home’. 

No more of those times anymore, but I might just sit here again anyway.  Now let me think, which one, ah-hah, this is the one we liked best.  Yes, when you sit down, it’s like being in a nanny’s lap.  Not that we ever had a nanny.  Huh, no money in the family for that.  No money for anything much, really.  Anything we got, Robbie and I saved for.  I was working after school at the grocer’s, and he was at Davie’s Nursery learning about plants.  Always loved nature, he did. 

Wish I could turn his life into a fairy tale now, not the horror movie he ended up in. Poor thing, he wanted to do so much, but not now.  

I recall once we were here and he asked me, ‘What do you think life’s all about?’

I was stuck, I’d never thought about deep things like that, too young and naïve, I was.  I had to think for some time and then came out with something like: ‘Living it the best you can, maybe?’ He nodded to me and said, ‘I hope you do Suze, I hope you do’.

Well, I can say that for him, he did live life the best he could and yet he still got a bad bargain at the end.

Oh, the bulbs are coming up. That’s the loveliest sign of Spring.  There’s something about those buds as they open up into golden trumpets heralding that new life is here.  I wish you were with me, Robbie.  I wish you were here. I don’t care if they think I’m mad sitting here, chatting away in my mind, but that’s what makes life a little easier at the moment. Honestly, I never dreamt your life would be a short one.  You were always like a wise older man to me.  I thought you’d live forever.  Seemed to have the answer to all my questions. It was like you knew what I would ask before I did. You knew me better than I ever will. 

I wonder if I could grow an oak tree to have as my own.  I suppose it’s a tad hard in a flat, I’d have to put it in a pot until I have a garden.  In autumn, I’ll come back and collect some acorns before the critters get them. What an idea, I reckon Robbie must have sent me that one.

Okay, got to get going before it’s too dark but just dark enough.  Now, where am I? 

I’ve got to follow this track right round and take the western one to about halfway, that’s right.  

Here we are.  It’s a magnificent statue. Just look at it.  J. R. R. Tolkien.  What a man.

Robbie loved his stories and he used to read ‘The Lord of the Rings’ to me. He had this smooth, quiet voice but could put all the dramatics in too.   

Uh-oh, I’ll wait for this family to go.  It’s nice to see people recognising the author, though.  So many loved his stories.  How clever was he to make up languages and write fantasies like that?  What a mind he must have had.  Looks like they’ll be a while, taking photos and whatnot. 

I think I’ll go over to the bench and wait awhile there.  

Mother and Father and brother and sister.  Just like we were once.  I wonder how they will grow up.  If he will ask her one day: ‘What do you believe life is all about?’ 

Will she answer like I did, or will she be more mature than I was and have already thought about it? 

What if Robbie asked me now, would I give the same answer or a different one?   

Is it love, compassion, or is it to give life meaning for me, or maybe Robbie - was he the meaning to my life?  

They are off, good.  Nobody else around. The time has come; the walrus said.  

I’ll go over now and look for how I can do this.  What if I spread my stuff around a bit, look like I’ve been having a picnic here?  Put the trowel under my pullover till I’m ready.  Ooh, you are heavy; I can’t believe there’s so much ash.  I thought it would burn down further.  It’s going to be a bit of a hole. Have to work quickly.

Around this side, it shouldn’t be so obvious.

No-one coming.  Okay, that’s enough.  ‘Goodbye Robbie, you will be happy in here with the man you looked up to, now he can look after you forever.’  

How does that look? Is it like nobody’s been digging in Tolkien’s garden?  No, not quite. Need to smooth it down a bit more.  Right, that’s better.  All tucked in. 

Farewell, my darling brother.