Palmy Boy

I remember the last time I saw you.

Sitting on your pushy and staring at the waves.

Come to think of it, I can’t ever remember you walking…

You were either sitting at the pub with the boys

Or I’d catch glimpses of you riding down the Highway

Or the Palmy back streets.

 

I don’t think we ever really had a conversation in all of those 20 years.

But somehow

I knew

you knew

that you and I had a connection.

 

I think we shared a similar wounding…

An unspoken bond is the strangest thing.

And…

I really thought we would talk one day.

I really did.

 

It’s only now I reflect a little deeper I can feel what you were holding

As you rode that bike, you head hanging forward…shoulders to your ears…

Skinny-jeaned knees splayed …

sun bleached, dirty curls swinging…

Your body made you look like you were bracing yourself for impact… 

Permanently.

 

You were always a ‘Palmy Boy’ 

You never grew up

I found that strangely attractive and intriguing.

 

You know

how you know

things have to change

but a part of you is never ready?

 

Remember when they Reno’d the Palmy pub making it look all swish?

They thought you’d all leave.

But they couldn’t get rid of you that easy.

You were born and bred fixtures!

Still there every arvy.

I’d sit at the cafe opposite drinking juice

While you all drank beer.

We’d wave at each other

How funny

 

Jeez, it must’ve been another 10 years before I’d drive past on Friday arvy

And there’d be less bums on seats.

Till one day the place no longer resembled its former self.

But I still saw you around

And you always nodded your head and smiled at me.

 

That’s why when I walked past a couple of your mates and heard

“Did ya hear what happened to Kero?”

I took a short, sharp breath.

 

That was months ago now, but you kept popping into my head

I kept wondering,

thinking…

I’ll bump into one of your mates sooner or later and ask them…

or, wistfully, I’d see you and you’d tell me yourself..

 

I moved to Burleigh, 

I walked the headland daily for over a year

My son got a job at the RSL in Currumbin

And after I dropped him there one day,

It occurred to me to walk round the Estuary.

I wasn’t going to go that far

But something prompted me to walk under the highway bridge.

I walked through the bush along the West Bank of the creek

Taking the odd pic.

I turned and walked into the bush slightly

And that’s when I saw it…

Painted in white on an old dead tree

R.I.P. KERO

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

 

I hate to say it but I grieved less for people I actually knew

I don’t know what happened, but I’ll miss you

And the era we lived through together.

I’m sorry we never got to speak  ❤

8 Comments Add yours

  1. Deb says:

    Ps – go to his Facebook page, there are a number of photos we have uploaded since his passing, including photos from his funeral service.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for connecting Deb. Im so sorry for your loss and grief. Would you post a link to his fb page please… I’m not sure how to find it.

      Like

      1. Deb says:

        https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100022171510937

        That is the link.

        Do you mind if I post the link to your blog on his Facebook page so his friends can see it?

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Not at all Deb… be my guest x

          Like

        2. Unfortunately his profile is not st to public so I can’t see anything 😦

          Like

  2. Rani says:

    Thank you for that beautiful piece.

    Kero is my big brother.

    I stumbled on your story by accident, just curious as it seemed familiar – I didn’t know it was about Chris until I was already reading it. It brought back a tidal wave of grief.

    I can also see that the cover photo is of him too. I was wondering if you could please send me a copy?

    With love,

    Rani
    Xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hi Rani… so sorry for your loss. You are welcome to print a copy from here? Or I could print it and send it to an address if you like ? Let me know, Beck

      Like

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