A Letter to my Old Friend
Viva la Grey, Spiertjies
My dear old friend Francois,
As you begin this celestial journey across the vastness of eternity, I reflect not with a soul of sorrow but with happiness.
I’m a cold blooded mathematician. A person who knows that life is finite and the rest irrational. The problem is that in such a perception there is no joy to the soul and our life’s essence is to be there with not only equations but our mind pacified by poetry. But truth be told, that bard Shakespeare is a bit of an extremist.
In our youth at school we had our distance, nothing but passing acquaintances and ships in the night. However, our last meeting and engagement turned that on its head and we then became old friends. You made an effort to reach out and engage with me to ask me about my life. I learnt that you had your own problems, of the heart, the spirit as well as the physical, of what Dr Barnard called a pomp. It did eventually seize, like an old Lister diesel.
Hearts are the essence of our being. It symbolises love. We treat it like a biological function but that restricts it and it also then restricts our thinking as hearts are both tangible as well as intangible. In the tangible form hearts pump blood and in the intangible form they orchestrate our feelings.
Ons laaste handskud was by die Grey reunie met ons maters van 84. Ek het met jou gepraat oor daardie Grey High game toe jy afgestuur is. Jy het gesê die los voorspeler het jou altyd laat gevat, die ref het dit laat gaan en jy het jou moer gestrip. Ek het gesê ek sou sommer my moer gestrip het met die eerste laat tackle. Ons het lekker gelag en ons is toe geroep vir die klas foto. Op daardie foto sien ek jy het nog 'n groot grin op jou gesig.
I have no idea what made you happy, old friend, as you have departed our world to others. Maybe I should have asked in our final conversation but I’ll tell you about a small thing that makes me happy. I love watching sunbirds feed on Leonurus as I always find it uplifting. You see the orange flowers are mathematical perfection in symmetry and shape. A pure equational representation. Then a sunbird arrives, sun glancing off its plumage, its wings power an aerial dance of extravagance before it feeds on the nectar of the Leonorus. Like a Marilyn Monroe sipping on fancy pants French Champagne in a classic movie.
Next time on my walks when I seek the above happiness, I hope I’ll find a feather. The feathers are where the physical and spiritual world are briefly bridged. Where angels indicate to us their existing presence. I reflect on them which includes my wife, my brother, my son as well as my parents. And now I know, old friend, that you are also there, present with a grin and reaching out with a handshake in the form of our alma mater’s traditional greeting.
Viva la Grey Ronald
