FOLLOW ME

There are flowers at the door again, just the same as the year before, left on the day after the anniversary of the death of my husband Tom. I knew Jacob had left them even though I hadn’t seen him do it. Jacob is our, my, closest neighbour – about a 10 minute walk as the crow flies. He grew up in these mountains so he knows the place like the back of his hand and the weather quirks are predicted by him like he has a sixth sense. He was a great help to us when we first moved here and we became close friends quite quickly, although he too values his solitude.

We moved here from the city only a year before Tom’s passing, the Snowy Mountains. I love this part of the country, the seemingly endless eucalypt forest, the high peaks of the mountains and the quiet that descends when the snow comes in winter – it helps me write. We’d tired of the hustle and bustle of city life, although Melbourne isn’t the biggest or busiest of the worlds’ cities. Still Collingwood had lost its inner urban charm and seeing that neither of our work required us to be in town we sold up and swapped our three bedroom terrace for 20 acres of land and a rambling weather board house. Tom was a fantastic artist, able to pick and choose his commissions. I’d also become quite well known, as my medium work further enhanced my writing.

I hardly see anyone these days and the spirits don’t visit me anymore either, aside from Tom. On the anniversary of his passing he comes to me of his own volition, always with the same message - asking me to follow him. I miss him intensely, it’s almost a physical pain and if I didn’t hold such a firm belief that taking my own life was an unforgivable insult against the powers that be I would follow him, without a second thought. Existence without Tom is almost unbearable but that’s the way it is.

I hardly see Jacob anymore either – unless it’s for his flower errand and he never knocks then. We were all good friends, but since Tom’s death I see neither hide nor hair of him, as though he’s afraid of the house, or me. I’m not too sure why, but I have my own theories.
Not too long before Tom’s death Jacob began acting a little strange around Tom and was becoming overly attentive with me. Tom and I discussed it and assumed that Jacob had a crush on me. There aren’t too many women around here or who see living so far from town as a desirable way of life. I’m not fantastically attractive but then I’ve not been chasing parked busses either so I suppose all in all it’s understandable that he developed ‘a thing’ for me. I didn’t see it as cause for alarm and neither had Tom and now I suppose with all that happening in Jacobs’ head so close to Toms’ passing he maybe feels weird about continuing our friendship.

There was one time when Jacob made an obvious pass at me – he brushed up against my breast and under his breath I heard him murmur that he could give me so much more than my lay about artist husband. Not that Tom was a lay about – anything but, though I suppose you create your own fantasies to support your needs and wants. I told him off, let him know that Tom was the love of my life and nothing short of death could come between us.

Now I think about it though, Jacob did seem almost hostile towards Tom at times. Tom never made anything of it to my knowledge though and things were kept friendly enough. The day before I found Tom’s body they’d been going to meet and check the fences on Jacob’s property before catching up over a beer. But they hadn’t gone, something had come up for Jacob and so Tom had worked on the car instead a vintage wreck he’d bought on the internet just after we moved here.

We were so happy together and I can never believe that he took his own life although that was the unspoken belief of others around here and I can’t explain what he was doing there. I have tried so many times to block the image of his broken body frozen at the bottom of a small cliff near where we live. I thought he’d been out working on the other love of his life – the 1930 Chrysler Roadster. I remember the faint metallic banging coming from the shed at the side of the house and the freaky weather we’d had – gale winds and then snow that evening - in the middle of January! It remained for a day or two and then the summer returned. If it hadn’t have been for that, maybe Tom would still be with me.

I try and continue parts of my routine and even though I don’t have spirits visiting me anymore I do still ‘open’ myself to them regularly. I put the lights out and light some candles, then sit, close my eyes and meditate for a while, sometimes just a half an hour and other times I may get lost in it for God knows how long, the spirit contact is almost secondary.

My mind drifts away for a while and images begin coming to me – faintly at first and then clearer, quicker. There’s a smell of eucalypt; it’s dusk and two men are walking up a steep incline. The overall feeling is tense but friendly. The figures walk along the cliff and then one disappears from the vision, the other turns red then black and I come out of it, back to now. I’m not sure what it means, but I think Jacob may know something more about Tom’s death. I’m sure it has to do with that.

Today I walked up to the ridge where I found Tom it’s similar but not the same as that of my vision. I sat and meditated again, hoping to find out more which I did but I’m not sure if it sheds anymore light on things. This time I didn’t get any pictures, just sounds and voices from time past. First there were parts of a conversation – ‘I can’t help but love her and although we’re friends, I resent your position’ voice one claimed.
‘How can you say that when I’m offering you a solution to both problems? You get your land and we get our lives back.’ replied the second voice – I think it’s part of a conversation had by Tom and Jacob although the voices were hollow and far away. Then there’s a sound of rocks falling down a cliff and a yell for help.

It seems as though Jacob was implicated in Tom’s death, why he’s never come to me about it eludes me – maybe he knew nothing of it. The only way I can see to get to the bottom of these visions is to go and visit Jacob. It might be nice to see him again.

I climb the ridge again on my way to Jacob’s and pass the place where I found Tom, a shiver passes through me and I wonder if I am doing the right thing. Still, I can’t see any other way to go about it – going to the police with talk of my visions wouldn’t ‘prove’ anything. I’m so nervous when I arrive, I can see that Jacob is in his shed so I walk over, still undecided on how I will go about this. As I get closer I can hear him mumbling to himself as he goes about whatever it is he’s working on so I stand outside the door and listen for a while.

‘…never should have happened but then what was I to do? I couldn’t have saved him… Stupid fool, walking so close to the edge, I should never have stopped by to ask for his help. And Sarah, oh Sarah…’ He stops talking and I hear him walking to the shed door, rather than confront him I turn and go back home having heard enough.

A stupid accident and twist from the weather had taken Tom from me. But it still didn’t explain why I’d been left to go find his body and cope with the grief and questions of my husband taking his own life. I have the vague sensation of falling as I remember finding Tom’s twisted body and push it away.


I sit down surrounded by candles again and close my eyes, this is the only way I know how to get to the bottom of it all and I have chosen the evening before Tom’s anniversary in the hope that I will be more connected to that time. I quickly enter a deep meditive state and visions of times much earlier - when we’d been here about six months - come to me. Tom and Jacob are talking about farming and the seemingly endless drought. Jacob is saying it’s the perfect time to be expanding his farm if he could find land at the right price. Tom replies they should talk about it more, that he doesn’t think country life is for him and he’s not been truly happy since being here (although he’d not ever discussed this with me) and maybe he’s found someone willing to sell. Jacob cocks his head to one side and then the vision fades.

This is all news to me –was Tom ever going to come to me about this? The property was in both our names and he knew I loved it here, surely we could’ve reached a compromise?

I spend the next day walking the gardens that we planted together, I just seem to keep floating through time waiting for Tom’s visit this evening, although I’m confused and upset at what I have discovered. I don’t know what I will do when I see his spirit tonight.

Jacob appears at the bottom of the drive and walks up carrying some tools as though he’s come to tend our, my, garden. It’s a little strange so I walk towards him down through the fruit trees and then step out in front of him. A look of disbelief crosses his face quickly followed by horror. His face is white and he whispers my name. Before he can say anymore I ask him what he’s doing here.
‘I’ve come to tend the gardens; I keep them and the house now, surely you know? Since Tom and then you… I took the place over and have been keeping it since.’ He stammers incredulously.
I’m taken aback and stand there for a moment unsure what to do. He tentatively reaches out to touch me and his hand passes straight through my shoulder. I’m falling again; earth and rocks are falling with me. It stops and my own crumpled body lies beside that of my beloved.