Black Pond Page #7

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that it's obvious

it's going to last forever

and then, just as obviously,

it fades.

It's as if our love

has its own mortality.

Love dies just like

everything else does.

It's just a part of life.

It's no less

beautiful for that.

"They're not suicide notes,

they're poems.

Love poems."

"Is this how you

want him to remember us ?"

You get to a point

in your life,

where you've done pretty much

everything you've been asked to

and it's like we're still

infants, you know, still--

still showing mother.

Look, this picture I did.

Look, my Lego ship.

Look at this life

I made.

Yes, well done.

Now go away and make

another one.

Make a better one.

You all right ?

Yeah.

I'm sorry we're

always fighting.

Oh, I'm a murderer !

Oh, I'm going

to kill you !

What, are you zooming in ?

Oh, I'm going to kill you

like I did the other guy.

Do I look some

sort of freak ?

Ready for your death.

Ah !

... With too much makeup on.

Yeah, you should be afraid.

Yeah, off you go,

before I kill you.

Piss off !

Give that to--

Put that where

Tim was sitting.

Yep.

Shall I put this

on the table ?

That's not glass, is it ?

No.

Sophie, this does smell

fantastic.

That's rather

a large one.

I'll have the large one.

There you go.

Do you want me to pour--

Shall I pour the wine ?

Yes, why don't you ?

Tim ?

Yes ?

Yeah, here, sit.

I found some candles.

They're lovely.

I had to use the ones

out the bathroom,

but that's all right,

isn't it ?

With the picture,

it's very--

Mum ?

That's Boy's--

That's his shrine.

We can add to it,

I suppose.

We'll probably find...

bits of Boy

memorabilia under sofas

and behind cushions

for years.

Is that all right

for you, Jess ?

Yeah, that's great,

thanks.

Katie, do you want wine ?

Yeah.

I don't have a glass.

Oh, I'm so sorry,

let me get you a glass.

Hooray.

Cheers.

Cheers.

Cheers.

Well done, everybody.

When he arrived at our house,

he made it clear...

He made it clear that he was

in the last moments

of his life and...

He told us where

he wanted to be buried.

( doorbell )

I'll get it.

... eating.

( Blake )

I'm sorry to disturb you

again, Sophie.

I wondered if you'd mind

my coming in and joining you

for dinner-- You don't

have to feed me anything.

I just want to be with you.

( Sophie )

Of course, come in.

I'm sorry to barge in

on you all like this,

I know it's

a family occasion.

Blake,

it's good to see you.

Come in, come in

and sit down.

( Sophie )

Are you all right ?

Oh, yes, yes.

I just--

Sorry.

Jess, get another plate

from the kitchen.

No, no, no, no,

I'll be--

I should be gone in...

Five minutes ?

Yes.

You're such a beautiful family

and I wanted to be with people.

The story is a man lost his wife

in the pond

because she disappeared

and when it was frozen,

it was obvious it couldn't be

anywhere else

because we walked there

together when it was working.

It was frozen.

It was clear.

And the pace of a falling leaf

was enough to tell you,

wasn't it ?

If you remember, the summer

would never end.

And we used to stop--

We had to stop every few yards

just to kiss each other

and stroke each other

and see each other just--

just to confirm.

And I was so scared that the

world was playing a trick on me,

that the world was

conning me,

because nobody has the right to

feel that wonderful.

I suppose that's--

That's why--

The-- the birds.

They're always there--

in patterns.

She had a terrible pain

in her leg, see,

so I'm convinced and

I know I sound like a madman,

but I'm convinced that if you

bury me there...

She came back to me.

As Boy.

See ?

And I know it and I'm not

normally...

But sometimes these things

just become very clear,

because she disappeared.

So.

So where--

Where else ?

Who ?

See, that's...

So my-- my one request is that

you bury me there with Boy

because I don't want to be

on my own when I'm dead.

"Before I die,

I'd like to play a prince,

a noble prince like princes

in the plays...

who fights and shouts

and dances like a god...

whose face is mired by dirt

that will be seen

in those untold,

unsensed dimension new,

where I surrender all my

worldly faults."

"No longer am I

scared to be confused,

revered, remembered, forgotten

and abused."

So--

Sorry.

Shh.

( Sophie )

"I am," by John Clare.

I am:
yet what I am

none cares or knows.

My friends forsake me

like a memory lost;

I am the self-consumer

of my woes.

They rise and vanish

in oblivious host,

like shades in love and death's

oblivion lost;

And yet I am.

And live with shadows tossed

into the nothingness

of scorn and noise,

into the living sea

of waking dreams,

where there is neither sense of

life nor joys,

but the vast shipwreck

of my life's esteems;

And e'en the dearest--

That I loved the best,

are strange--

Nay, rather

stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where

man has never trod;

A place where woman

never smiled or wept;

There to abide with

my creator, God,

And sleep as I in

childhood sweetly slept:

Untroubling and untroubled

where I lie;

The grass below--

above the vaulted sky.

( Jess )

Well, that is what happened.

That is what happened.

I can see how people

would think it's weird.

( Tom )

We didn't let him

die or anything.

We didn't know that

that was going to happen.

None of us could have predicted

that it was all going to end up

as public as it did,

that it was going to end up

in-- in court.

I could have performed a

citizen's arrest for suicide,

but I would have been arresting

a dead person.

So what do you do when

you're sitting there

with a human being asking you

something like that ?

Do you go against it ?

( Sophie )

In the moment, it felt that the

most important thing to do was

to do what Blake wanted.

To at least give him the end

that he'd asked us for that

clearly meant so much to him.

( Tom )

I was surprised

at why I did it.

In retrospect I think,

how stupid...

you know,

knowing how people react.

What an idiot...

But it's probably the most

beautiful thing I've ever done

in my life.

Pondblogger here with poem

number 49.

"You had my love

and that's enough.

When we are dead,

it will be said,

you were in love

and I was, too,

and that, my dear,

will have to do."

Ill be back tomorrow with poem

number 50.

Thanks for watching.

Over and out.

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