Wednesday
Bedda is dead.
Sad but true.
He grew old, got sick, had an accident and then died. All before he could eat his first mouthful of breakfast.
Bedda, for those of you who don't know, is Fred's imaginary friend. We've had him for nearly exactly two years, he joined us on a holiday in Queensland. Recently he became a part of our family, his own parents died and so we kindly adopted him he became Fred and Una's imaginary brother (Fred says imaginary in the same way she might say 'German' - to her imaginary is just another way of being real).
But now, Bedda is gone. Fred is quite sure about this.
Maybe he will come back, I say, far more stricken than Fred about this sad news (she did cry about it, but she was already crying about something else, and conveniently threw Bedda in for good measure).
No Mum, Fred tells me, sadly but firmly. When people die they don't come back.
Maybe he was just sleeping very heavily. Maybe he's not really dead. Maybe it's a mistake.
Fred tells me I need to get over it. Bedda's dead. Move on. She doesn't quite say it in those words, but she does cheerfully inform me that now Bedda's gone Hallie is here! Hallie's come to play!
I remain stubbornly grieved about Bedda. I'm not even faking it. He can't die. He can't. Martin is more callous. He had to go sometime, Martin says. But I don't believe that. Not really. We could have accommodated him forever in some small dusty corner of the house.
Will he be a ghost? I ask Fred.
She shakes her head.
Thursday
How's Bedda today? I venture at the dinner table, hoping his death will prove to be a temporary affliction.
Fred rolls her eyes. Dead.
That's great. RIP Bedda.
ReplyDeleteMy kids haven't had really well formed imaginary friends so far - my eldest had a whole fleet of Bens for a while (Ben being his name), but they never had personalities or anything.
I had one, Mr Banana, but I shipped him off to America rather than killing him off. I remember trying to bring him back when I was older, but I just couldn't believe.
That's hilarious. In a tragic way. Sorry. At least Fred seems to be at one with the circle of (imaginary) life.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I've been meaning to facebook you to say I raced through Indigo Girls a few weeks ago, such a good read! When I was 16 I could totally have used the geek affirmation of a character like Tilly - so geeky, so cool.
Miriam
my first imaginary friend (Coggle) got hit by a car. Not surprising, really, considering he lived under the cootmundra wattles where the Eastern Freeway meets Hoddle Street.
ReplyDeleteHe was replaced by Tina, who had pink and purple curly hair and arms that reach to the moon. And she was NAUGHTY. keep an eye on that Hallie!
Poor Bedda! :-(
ReplyDeleteThat sounds terribly sad...
I understand your grief. Saley moved to America awhile back and I miss her. J is not the least bit bothered to lose his twin.
ReplyDeleteWell, Bedda is still dead.
ReplyDeleteIt's interesting to me that just when Fred has finally grasped the finality of death, she's killed off Bedda. I read a very interesting quote this year about how the monsters/shadows under children's bed are made up of the unsaid (namely sex and death) - perhaps Bedda was partly made up of these things too, and his cration was partly a philosophical wrangling with the nature of existence. His death is a further inquiry along these lines perhaps.
Or perhaps it's just the power of creation and destruction.
We've had Delisha as long as you have had Bedda, and she still is around, although since school it's been less and less. She did come away with us to Coles Bay the other weekend though . We also have Emily the Possum now too who looks a lot like Tara and is quite cheeky. Poor Bedda. Hopefully he has found his way to another gorgeously imaginative child :-)
ReplyDeleteWhat a terrific tale. Sadly our imaginary friends are full of recognisable merchandise - Dora and Diego and Boots! Still make for some cute scenarios around here, but heavily plagarised ones.
ReplyDelete