To all those people who knew Pam!

 

This photo of Pam was taken after my parents had visited a dog shelter.  They walked out of the shelter saying they didn't see a dog that they wanted so Pam marched them back in and this little puppy was the result.  They called him Spikey, he was dad's constant companion until he died in 2005 (the dog not dad!)  Pam loved dogs with a passion.

I was listening to a man on the radio last night, Frank Mundo as he talked about losing his brother a year ago.  He and his family have a website where they put all his brother's art work and photos and memories.  They also put stories and memories on there that friends share.  So I invite all those people who knew and loved Pam to please email me and share your stories so that I can put them on this blog.  Don't be shy!  Come on!

No Pam

I wrote this quote on a piece of paper in the months following Pam's death.  I found it in a file where I put all the hand-outs on grief that were coming my way.  I don't know who wrote it.

"When all the family members are alive, the family system is carefully held in place.  When one member dies, the system is thrown into a chaotic state destabilizing each family member.  Old ways of coping are no longer effective; those left behind feel exhausted.  This exhaustion combined with a sense of disorientation and disillusionment make room for new awarenesses to break into consciousness..awarenesses that at other times a person could keep at bay."

Wigwam Pam

I wrote this poem after Pam came to Santa Fe to spend Christmas with me in 2003.  

I suppose it still applies Pam...wherever you are my love...

Wigwam Pam
Telephone ma'am
Your heart in a clam
You had the same plan

Wigwam Pam
You also ran
As fast as you can
From the same man

La la la la pretty girl la
Do you know where you are?
Did you travel really far?
La la la la pretty girl lee
Did you set yourself free?
Did you find your own tree?

Wigwam Pam
Your Uncle Sam
Says don't give a damn
Live if you can

Do it!!!

            Start a huge, foolish project,
                         like Noah.

         It makes absolutely no difference
              what people think of you.

                            Rumi

This explains perfectly why I do this...

And what is it to work with love?

It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, 

even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.

It is to build a house with affection,

even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.

It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest

with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.

It is to charge all things you fashion with the breath of 

your own spirit.

And to know that all the blessed dead

are standing about you and watching.

The Prophet by Kahil Gibran.

I Remember Sky..

2001. Outside the inn in Newport, Rhode Island where Pam was working.  She is hugging our nephew Billy and one of the Irish girls.  With Mum and Dad and that's me behind them.

I remember sky is a song I used to sing when I was an actress going for auditions for musicals.  “I remember sky. It was blue as ink, or at least I think I remember sky.”  It makes me feel like crying.  Like now here I am today finding life a pain in the ass because my back is aching like mad, it’s really dragging me down.  How can I be so misery-ish when I’ve lost you Pam?  I’m sorry.  You probably think, “Well girl enjoy life, you are alive and I’m not!”  Or perhaps you are thinking, “Actually I’m frigging glad it’s over and I don’t have to suffer backache like you today ha ha!”  Well, which one is it Pam?  I wish you could tell me now.  It’s such a bore when I’m ill, it makes me very serious and at a loss as to how to respond to it.  I looked at myself in the mirror and I said, “You don’t know what to do to look after yourself when you’re ill do you?”  And the answer was no.

I finally lay on the tile floor with the dogs and tried to be a dog.  I lay next to Paako and I lifted his paw onto me.  Anyway I got bored being a dog.

I remember being able to call you Pam when I felt like this and tell you about my funk and then you could do the same with me.  I remember that was before we started working on our codependence and then we thought we couldn’t do it anymore.  But sometimes when things got really bad we would.  Like when I first started dating Ron and he didn’t call me that day and I went into a pit of horror I called you and you said, “no Jane I don’t think I should do another tarot card reading for you because I’ve just done one and it said everything was great.  Why don’t you just feel your feelings instead?”   And I did.  And then the next morning when I called you again to tell you I was still in a state you said to keep on feeling those feelings Jane!  

But I haven’t been able to feel my feelings lately.  I feel cold inside.  Perhaps if I could call you, you would know what to say to me.  I think you knew me better than I knew myself.  I want to remember and I don’t want to, it hurts too much.  That is the problem you see Pam.  I don’t remember the details and that’s what bothers me.  Oh I remember the room at the inn and the kitchen down below where you used to bake your little muffins.  The flat upstairs which was so cozy and you letting me come and stay there with you even though it was too small.  I remember reading a book that I found in that little new age bookshop about Jane Roberts and Seth.  And we cycled around Ocean Drive me talking like the Irish girls who also worked at the inn and you laughed.  I kept calling you Dervla, do it again you kept shouting, do it again!  And you laughed and laughed.  You watched me cry because I was so upset about men and you saw me get drunk out of my head that night and throw myself at that man who owned a boat called the Pearl Necklace.  You were right there by my side Pam, my sister all the way.  Right up until the end.  I remember the problems you had too and the way we would talk and talk about all the problems and the dysfunction and when we went home that Christmas your face looking at me as if to say what are you doing this for?  When I was singing those carols so loudly and acting out like an angry daughter.  You looked at me with disapproval I remember, you keeping a lid on it.  Sitting there in a grey cardigan keeping a lid on it.  Letting it all run on.

And the film below is me singing the song...

Have yourself a merry little Christmas...

Andy Connell just put this on Facebook of himself and my heart skipped a beat.  This is the last song Pam sang to me.  Bitter, bitter sweet Andy and Pam...two people I love dearly.

It was December 2007 and we were all wending our way to England to spend Christmas with our parents.  I decided to go to Pam’s B&B in Newport for a week on the way.  Pam was taking part in a dinner theatre Christmas cabaret at the time and had a solo spot singing the above song.  She was eager for me to watch the show and I of course was eager to go along.  So we drove over to this cute little venue in her silver Mazda sport’s car.  She introduced me to the other singers who all seemed of course to adore her.   As they each walked away Pam told me their back-stories.  I sat at the bar with Pam’s husband Keith to watch as the show began.  They sang the typical Christmas fare all of them dressed in glittery clothes with warm winter scarves thrown around their necks.  Then it came to Pam’s solo.  She sat on a chair centre stage the other singers draping themselves around her some sitting on the floor looking up at her as she sang.  She was enchanting to me as always, and tears welled up in my eyes.  And what a truly gorgeous song this is I mused, perfect for her.  I scanned the room proudly but to my indignation you COULDN’T hear a pin drop!  People in the audience were holding conversations whilst my beautiful sister was singing!  This will never do! How very dare they!  I began to beadily scrutinize her performance for clues.  Right!  In no time at all could see what the problem was. I made a mental note to set this matter straight as soon as we returned to the house.  Having worked for many years as an actress I knew how to fix this.

So when we got back I threw my coat on a chair and launched into action.  I immediately declared, “Pam! You are singing the song all wrong!”  Pam winced a little knowing her sister only too well.  She tried to explain to me that she didn’t really care but I was adamant.  “Look Pam people were talking!”  Pam shrugged.  “Don’t you want them to listen?!  Oh come on of course you do, come on let me show you.”  I went to find YouTube on Pam’s laptop and started searching for a clip of Judy Garland singing the song.  “But Jane,” Pam bleated “It’s OK as it is.  The other singers love me singing it this way.”  “Yes but Pam it’s not good enough!  We should have been able to hear a pin drop.  We'll have none of that audience talking while singer is singing lark around here!  Come on, please, look.”  Pam sighing sat on the high chair next to her desk and as we both focused on the computer the master class began.  “Now Pam this is the problem.  You are singing the song cheerfully.  Right?  Wrong!  You are swaying rather jauntily from side to side and it’s all kind of upbeat and jazzy.  No, no, no!  Now watch.”  And I clicked onto Judy singing.  Pam looked at Judy and then looked at me expressionless.  “Do you see?”  Pam shrugged unenthusiastically,  “It’s melancholy Pam, sad not cheery. Now let’s get to work.”  And whether Pam liked it or not I completely changed the way she delivered the song until to my mind it was perfect.  “There!  Now when you sing that song tomorrow evening I guarantee you will hear that pin drop.”

The next evening I stayed at home.  When Pam got back from the cabaret I asked rather smugly how it went.  "Worse," she said. "What? You're kidding me why?" "The other performers didn't like it.  They were going mad asking why I'd changed it and to change it back!"  "Oh, that's ridiculous!" I said, "Ah but what were the audience like?"  I asked confidently. "Quieter," she said, "listening."  "There you are then.  I told you!  Well weren't you pleased?"  I said.  "Yes but anyway I think I'll change it back to the old way." "Do what?  But why?" I asked.  I think it was probably peer pressure.  This turned out to be Pam's last Christmas.

A Photo of Pam as a baby

This photo is of Pam and our parents.   It was pinned to a bulletin board in 

Pam's kitchen along with a photo of me taken in Newport when I was staying 

with her one time...

The Little Prince

In about oooh 1988/89 I was in a production of The Little Prince at the Bristol Old Vic Theatre. I played a Rose and a Fox. Pam came to see it. She particularly liked my Rose. I'm going to write the story of this sometime. Oh did we giggle. She liked my Fox too and bought me a toy fox soon after which I still have.

I think about this story from time to time and the fact that it was written by a pilot.  This pilot, Antoine St Exupery disappeared whilst flying his plane.  The last Christmas before the accident I bought Pam's husband Keith one of his books called Night Flight.  Keith was learning to fly planes, that's how my sister died.  The instructor and Pam and Keith all died.  Like with Antoine St Exupery no one knows what happened.  He once said, "Only the unknown frightens men.  But once a man has faced the unknown, that terror becomes the known."

The Flower Duet

Me and Pam...

There's so much I could say about this photo of Pam, Dad and Uncle Guy...