Something lost, something found

In my first weekend alone in my house since the start of the year I decided to have a bit of a spring (or autumn) clean. I was cleaning out the cupboards in my spare bedroom when I came across an exercise book with the lyrics to a song I wrote with my class written out in pencil. Above certain words the guitar chords were marked in. I soon realised that the handwriting belonged to my friend Kirk who died last year. I had a token stab a few years ago at learning the guitar. It lasted about 5 minutes but those 5 minutes happen to coincide with a visit to Utopia of Kirk and a bunch of other friends. I remember it being a crazy few days with their 3 or 4 cars arriving out here at about 8 pm one night - they had left town later than anticipated and driving in convoy on a dirt road at night is not easy! I remember all 9 or 10 of use sitting on my front verandah - talking, knitting, doing crosswords or marking of birds we'd seen in Birds of Australia books (not me so much for that one!). I remember Kirk particularly enjoying the hammock. This is possibly because he had called me a couple of times in the week before they arrived up here - to talk about logistics - and each time we spoke I had been in my hammock! I remember going out bush overnight, camping in the river bed, eating kangaroo tail cooked on the hot coals of the campfire - even Kirk the vegetarian bless him! I remember he and Kylie and I singing Closer to Fine and it being one of those moments where your voices connect and become more than the sum of their parts. I remember heading off to the Utopia Sports carnival on what should have been a school day and the boys from the city donning the Magpies jerseys and playing for the Mulga Bore Magpies. I remember Angela taking us to the caves and all of us stading on the top and taking a photo of our shadows all lined up. I still look at the picture and try to figure out which one is Kirk. I remember getting the kids to sing the Hunting Song for all my friends and Kirk loving it so much that he decided to write his own lyrics to the same tune offer the students the gift of a new song telling the story of his journey to Utopia.
And I remember asking Kirk to note down the chords for me so that I could learn to play the song on my guitar. He was only too happy to do it. I'm sorry now that i gave up on the concept so quickly.
The thing is that I could almost count on two hands the number of times I saw Kirk in the last few years - it really wasn't that often. But I think of him so often now.
There was a ceremony yesterday in Melbourne to scatter Kirk's ashes. I was sad that I couldn't be there for it but perhaps by being here I was in a way remembering Kirk for his fearless way of reaching out into distant places and embracing the world he found there.