Honey and Vinegar

I had a little surprise waiting for me when I got home. I love to get mail and I prefer the ones that don't have windows or unrequested raffle books (that I then have to buy myself cos I don't want to bug my friends to buy them and I feel bad sending them back unsold!).

My little surprise was  a hand written note and a cute little book of verse that I can carry around in my hand bag. One of the quotes stood out to me like a lighthouse in a storm.  Messages of Help, Hope and Courage, it promised on the cover.  Appropriate as today I had a bit of a sook at work. Thank goodness Karen was there with her ample chest to give me a big hug and then make me laugh! She's a gooden :)

The quote reminded me of something that Mum used to tell me a lot :

 "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar"

Remember the other day I wrote about Mum and her "Minnisms", you know like Richard Fish. Anyway I cannot quite grasp why anyone would want to catch flies, unless of course the house was full of them and you wanted them out.  The other other Minnism is "You make more friends with flowers than brick bats".  Means the same thing.

Sometimes people react in a negative, defensive manner a lot quicker than they should. They immediately jump to the conclusion that you are out to get them, rather than help them. Bring them down rather than build them up.  Maybe it is due to the fact that they feel threatened or pushed into a corner, so that they attack rather than wait to get the full gist of what you are trying to convey.  I include my self in this generalisation.

It is a tricky balance to get right, I guess. A well meaning word turns into a brick bat.

I know a few times my weird sense of humour will have folk scratching their heads and wondering what on earth I am talking about.  Using one of those in house jokes that I think everyone will get by osmosis. Clearly we are not all on the same page or wave length. I mean take young George, who ever understood what he was on about??

At other times, I know that I have just been in too much of a hurry to explain myself fully in an email or instructions.  If I had taken the time to write a proper outline of what I meant, people would not have to write back seeking clarification.  Must be frustrating trying to work out what I mean. See, always in too much of a hurry.*

It is another thing to add to the list of "New and Helpful Traits to Master". This is a dilemma because at times you can offend or really upset someone.  You don't mean to dish out vinegar, you want to give them honey but the delivery is all wrong.  Along the way the honey undergoes alchemy of some kind and turns out all wrong. 

Need to pay more attention to Winnie and his wise words 

I can't talk about anyone else, but I know that I need to think a bit more at times.  I need to make sure that the message I am delivering is the message that is in my heart and in my brain.  I am not a cavalier person by nature when it comes to other peoples feelings. I want to handout ladles of honey not vinegar.  I don't want the latter to be the attitude that I portray.  I should take time to really think about how I should say something, instead of being in a hurry to put my two bobs worth in. 

Back to the quote: 

I've had my trials and troubles.  The Lord has given me both vinegar and honey, but He has given me the vinegar with a teaspoon and the honey with a ladle - William Bray

I am lucky that the vinegar I have been given has been in relatively small doses to the amount of honey I have had. When I take note of what else is going on just within our own small town, my portion, although huge to me and my family, is by comparison, manageable I suppose.  Hard but not completely and utterly unbearable now.

I have been given honey every now and then by the spoonful to ease the bitter taste of heartbreak and sorrow that could easily have become a bucket of vinegar.

The honey is my beautiful friends and wonderful family.  The kindnesses of people around me, no matter how small, remind me that I am not alone; this too will pass and love is still to be found if we just keep looking for it. It pops up in the most unlikely of places sometimes.

*My handwriting is another victim of hurrying too much but I think that I have already covered that dastardly trait.

The Measure of the Man......or Woman

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

I was driving up to a friends house for lunch this afternoon and  thought about this saying from apparently one of the greatest orators of the 20th century. Well that's what Wikipedia says anyway. And there I was thinking that my parents, especially my Mum,  had come up with that.  Mum and Dad used to quite often talk about the measure of man being displayed through his words and actions but more through his character than anything else.  The measure of a man is more often that not more apparent through his non verbal language and behaviour than by his promise to do something.

Remember Allie McBeal and Richard Fish who used to come up with all those little idiosyncratic sayings that became known as Fishisms, well I though Mum was ahead of her time, but we didn't call them Minnisms.  I digress....

I was thinking how friends, the good ones, are not dictated by frequency of interaction or what you can do for them, but by their love. They allow you to be who you are and they show that by respecting you as an individual. In fact they even embrace that!

Respect in itself can be such a huge deal breaker or deal maker. All the things that respect covers can be such a powerful and affirming tool/norm/attitude/value.  I can't really pin it down to just one word or theory. But  respect for each other is such a strong and uplifting trait, that no relationship can really survive without it.

It is the measure of a person to stand by their word and think of someone other than their own comfort that proves exactly how big a person they are.  Many times we have all been disappointed by friends, but that's OK. Everyone is human.

It is their ability to make amends or to be truly sorry that flips the coin to heads when you are trying to decide whether or not that wreck is worth salvaging or if it is a write off.  Sometimes the race is run and it is better off for both of you to call it quits. I have learnt that this is OK too.  Not everything can last or should last forever.

The measure of a man decides on how they relate to you in times of need, times when you are really not that easy to know, or when you are just being a right royal pain and need extra love and attention.  Not at all easy to do.

It is kind of the same with bereavement.  A full on grieving person is not easy to be around some of the time.  Days can be trying, tiring and downright draining.  We try not to be like that believe me - some days it just is.  Plus we are not always on the ball, not too bright and cant concentrate at times, so we lose the drift of conversations, dates, times, places we are meant to be.

I am lucky to say that I have been blessed, really blessed with family and friends who have not only measured up, they have grown in stature in my eyes. Some have become bleeding great giants!  Mountains in the area of support and understanding.  Think Shaquile O'Neill - that kind of giant of a man.

I have been lucky enough to make new friends, re-ignited old friendships, lost a couple that could not cope and through it all realised how much love can help in coping with something that I thought would surely kill me.

The Measure of a Man (Or jolly good Woman) is obvious. Not always in a good way, but obvious in their actions and portrayal of love. However in times of need, challenge or controversy it is indicative of the respect that they hold not only for you but themselves also.


And so back to the Greatest Orator of the 20th Centuary -

"In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." Martin Luther King Jr.

What Is not What If

"You know how people say that bereavement is like a journey, well Emily and I were talking about that last night. She said that it is not like a quick trip to the shops and that my journey has just begun.
I likened it to a world trip calling into every Shitsville on the map! Maybe i haven't even left Tassie yet!

I want to go back to September 2013 - a blissful time of ignorance and happiness; all the kids were happy, we were happy; anxiously looking forward to going to Karratha and enjoying ourselves in our new venture.  Maybe we are still in Paris, walking around with our heads spinning at all the different sights. Or just enjoying a peppermint diablo and a beer in a little cafe somewhere.
If only ............"

I wrote this post on my Facebook group page this morning. I mentioned the other day that whole journey thing and how I don't like it. But whatever I call it, it will not change where I am right now, right this minute and that's still here.

And that is without Chris. I cannot go back, I wish I could.  I wish I could change some of the things that happened right about the time Chris was diagnosed with cancer; I wish a lot of things.  Wish my Mum and my sister were still here to tell me what to do; I wish that I had done somethings differently.  None of these empty wishes will help me though.  It only serves to beat me up a bit that I could have done things better.

I don't know how but I need to focus on WHAT IS not what if. I first heard that from Glenn McGrath at the time he had just lost his wife, Jane, to cancer.  He said, "It's no use thinking about what if, you can only deal with what is!"

So what is.  Well I have a lovely family, I have a warm, dry house, I have money in the bank, a good job with very understanding bosses and colleagues, pretty good health - apart from the rotten shoulder! -  and I have hope.  It all sounds really cliched doesn't it but I am hopeful.

I am hopeful for the future. I have no idea how it will look, where I will be or what will be making my days but I do believe with all my heart that there will be joy, happiness, love, cuddles from grandchildren and my deep, deep desire to uphold the memory of a wonderful man  who came into my life, turning it around. He gave me joy, made me laugh, he cherished me, made me scream, made me cry, made me grateful  and made my heart fuller than it has ever been.  And I did the same for him. The more you are given love, the more love you have to spread around to the other people. Chris and I had plenty to share. 

I just hope that God is going to guide me and help me to see this become my  new reality.

When I was a young girl my mother, who was a lovely singer, used to sing this song called "My Cup Runneth Over", by Perry Como.

Sometime in the evening when shadows are deep,

I lie here beside you just watching you sleep 

And sometimes I whisper what I'm dreaming of, 

My cup runneth over with love. 

Well I certainly had my cup overflowing and I am thankful for that but every now and then, I can't help but wonder, dream and wish, "if only...."

Making Do

Yesterday I had a lovely day doing normal uneventful trifles. Visited a lovely friend for tea and biscuits, went out to lunch and Danika and I went to a pre-loved clothing market. She picked up a couple of bargains including a lovely woollen Leona Edmiston dress and I bought two new (to me) reddish scarves. It was great to see so many women bustling about trying to pick up a bargain as well as reducing the amount of waste instead of just throwing the clothes no longer needed or wanted away.

I do so love re-using and reducing the amount of clothes etc that I buy. Making do and with less.   Voluntary Simplicity is a movement/belief/way of life that has been gripping more traction over the last few years and I can certainly see the benefits of it. There are heaps and heaps of blogs devoted just to that way of life on the net.

The Franmaree Road Baker

Chris and I started baking our own bread in 2010. We then moved onto making our own soap and washing powder, growing lots of our own veggies and generally cutting back on unnecessary expenditure.  We really enjoyed making things together and have a couple of funny stories about the chemistry of making soap!  It was empowering and enjoyable to see how much we could reduce our daily expenses just be being a bit more careful about what and where we purchased items.

The kids helping Chris dig carrots - they loved it 

I have never been an extravagant spender (well I lie a bit there, when it comes to jewellery I turn into a different person but only momentarily :/).   I buy most of my clothes at places like Myer (generally only reduced items)  or Target etc. When the children were younger, I tried to encourage them not to "label shop".  When the girls were in university they became fabulous little bargain shoppers, only purchasing when they really needed something and then usually at the sales or discount shops, you know downstairs at Portmans :)  they wold often ring to tell me about a fantastic bargain they had picked up - they are still wearing some of those clothes! Their idea of a great night out was to walk up Sydney Road and have a $7 soup dinner.

For fun we would always go into Alana Hill when I was in Melbourne but it was just to look and dream.

The "old school" ways of doing things, like knitting and dressmaking and cooking from scratch have been things that I have always done  Even as a young married girl of 19, I made my own bread and as many of my own clothes as I could. I learned to cook early and could make a entire meal from what was in the fridge and the garden on the farm. It is a real pity that this isn't a skill that is taught in school or at home now.

I hope that as my girls set up their own homes and have their own families that they will follow in some of my foot steps.  I hope they know how to cook from scratch, make a dress or knit for their children. Children, I believe,  really don't need designer label clothes or every new toy that comes onto the market.  They don't even realise what they have on as long as it is warm and clean; who cares where it came from? They need love and attention and to foster a keen sense of creativity so that they can always keep themselves occupied or entertained.   (There is a whole other post that I will write one day about how I get myself busy on the farm when I didn't have the latest toys or friends on hand to play with. Hilarious now when I look back )

One of my earliest memories is of my Mother and I sitting in front of the fire and making doll clothes.  I must have been only about 4, as the others kids were all at school and I was home alone with Mum.  Maybe that will be a Momo job for me :) - teaching the grandies to sew and knit!

Another "old school" thing to do that is nearly going by the wayside - is letter writing.  A few years ago I wrote a note to my niece, who lives in Queensland.  She was so pleased to get my old school letter, that I thought well I might just keep doing that.  I love to go to the post box and there to find a letter! So if I enjoy it, odds are a lot of other people do too.  I might start up a new habit.  I might write a letter to one friend a week. Who wants to join me?

Falling In Love

You know that this blog is an extension of one I started late last year when Chris and I were going to move to WA. At that time I wrote mainly about the move, the excitement of it; the planning and the expectations.

Back then I had a list of future posts that I kept in a blue book.  The blue book holds lots of secrets, budgets, reminders, places I want to visit and lists. The blog ideas list had numerous titles to do with marriage, falling in love, what makes a good life etc. For a lot of those blog ideas, the premise has changed now that I no longer have the love of my life right here with me.  He is still the greatest choice that I ever made but the sorrow overtakes the joys at the moment.

One of the blog ideas I had centred around a song line.  U2 have a song that has the line, " Can't fall any further in love with you than what we are now. This is not an ordinary love....."  along those words.

That was how I felt back in November about Chris.  He was away from me but only in another state. Now I still feel that way but he is away from me forever.  And before you say, yes but he is always in your heart,  I don't want that.  I want him right here beside me to talk to; to hold and to love; to make jokes with and to lie beside and stroke his face, kiss his lips and have him tell me its all going to be OK.

I wonder what it is that specifically makes us fall in love with one person so deeply and so completely?  That yearning, that longing just to see them, hear their voice and catch their smile?

When I met Chris, he was a very quiet person, well mannered and gentlemanly.  He wasn't loud or pushy. He just sat and waited. Chris was a man who was strong minded, truly loved people and was always thinking of what he could do to enhance the life of another. If there was a need, Chris would be trying to think of a solution or how he could help.  Chris was funny, helpful, hard working and compassionate.
He was slow to anger, generous and obstinate. He had kind lovely eyes and loved to laugh.

Which of these qualities did I fall in love with? Maybe it was the whole gorgeous little package.

And he loved children and they loved him too

I have seen my children and friends fall in love.  Of course the instances have been as different as the people involved.  I wonder what clinched the deal for them.

However it happens, falling in love and having that love generously given back is the greatest pleasure, the supreme gift from one to another. Chris told me that his love for me would never change so my dilemma now is, has it?  Does that love go on past the grave or do I just hold onto the memory of how great our love was.  My love for him goes on.  Every time I think of Chris my heart still feels that same love, the same yearning and longing.  I still could not love him anymore than what I do right now.  I still feel totally wedded to him but I no longer have my husband.

I guess this is all part of this awful existence that people now call my  "journey" *, coming to terms with how it all fits together now. Life and love will never be the same, but I do believe it will be good.  Just a  different type of good.  I just have to figure out what that looks like.

This probably all sounds a bit maudlin today but I am just thinking out loud. After all that what my blog is mostly about, isn't it?  Thinking out loud.

Have a good weekend everyone.  Feel free to leave a comment, I love to hear your thoughts out loud too :)


*Side bar - God I hate that term.  A journey to me has positive connotations - you know getting excited, packing, going on a plane, buying icecreams at half way mark - that kind of journey. This isn't a journey for me, it just is life now.  Trying to make the best of it and trying to get on with what I need to do to still be something like the old Kathy, is what it is now.

Family jokes

* Apologies in advance to Emily

Pauline, Alarna, et al - no weeping tonight 

In our family, the kids and I have always had "In Jokes". Little sayings that we have heard or said and then just repeat over and over again.  It is disturbing sometimes when we drop into a conversation one of our little idioms and others just look at us with a very concerned look on their face.

We had several years when it was just the four of us.  Hilarity was common in our house, sometimes we were all laughing at the same thing, some time it was each other. We developed this funny little trait - don't know if it was unique to us - but Chris soon adopted it when he joined us in that little house in Sutton Street. Our one liners that were used in amusing context or just to wind each other up.  Well, we thought they were funny.

Emily being the youngest was, unfortunately for her, the butt of several of these little inside jokes. She was a really funny kid and would amuse us for hours just by being Emily.  Every photo that we have of Emily as a littlen, she is pulling a funny face; so naturally her sense of the ridiculous and innate humour bubbled over into every day life.

When she was about 7, Chris and I were laughing at her; she had done something hilarious! She turned around to us, as serious as a heart attack and said with her little face all furrowed up, "I've got feelings you know and you've just hurt mine!"  Well we fed off that one for years and years. And for years and years, Emily would scowl and say "It's not even funny!!"

Another one was the punchline in one of my favourite jokes that Chris ever told me.  It's about two men on the chains at the show.  The chains break and Cecil gets smashed up against the wall. Cyril runs over and says " Cecil, Cecil, are you hurt???"  "Of course I'm hurt! I went around six times and you never waved once!"  Of course Chris did a much better job of that but whenever any one was hurt or upset (in a funny way of course, not a serious sense), we would all wave to the offended.  Never gets old, that one.

Chris told me that joke as we were driving down the Booker Highway into Hobart and I was still laughing as we booked into the hotel. Granted, he delivered it better than I.

I guess you all remember that movie Home Alone. As the family are all leaving for the airport and the little kid from next door, runs along beside the car and says, " Bring me back something French!" Well that became the catch cry for us whenever anyone was going anywhere. I used it so much that when I left the DPP, one of the prosecutors gave me a CD of French songs as a leaving gift!

Someone said it a few months ago when my niece was staying with us. We were going out for lunch or something. She's quick that girl; she said, "Will I do? "  Of course her last name is French!!

When Emily was in Grade 9, she used to go to East Launceston Primary School one afternoon a week.  She was doing a paper cut with the kids, you know the snow flakes.  Anyway this cute little Asian boy, about 5, was absolutely intent on doing his without any help whatsoever from Emily. After every other child had completed theirs and was off playing, he finally came to Emily for help. Once she had completed the paper cut for him and handed it back, she said, "What do you say?" (as in thank you).  The little fella held it up and beamed saying, "I did it myself."  And so another family saying was born.

There have been many times when our own little in joke or side remark, has really made us laugh uproariously.  Humour has been a great saving grace in our family.  I guess our weirdness is something that only we get but that's OK.  Everyone is a little weird. As long as we share that with other weirdos, it's all good.

Why Do I Write ?

This morning I read a very interesting article and I thought I would share with you some thoughts that I had about it.
The article can be seen in full here :

http://www.yesmagazine.org/issues/education-uprising/ten-things-creative-people-know


"Cross-cultural anthropologist Angeles Arrien tells us that in many traditional cultures, when an ill person goes to the healer, he or she is asked four questions: When did you stop singing? When did you stop dancing? When did you stop telling your story? When did you stop sitting in silence? She calls these the healing salves. Numerous studies show that activities like drawing and creative writing—even knitting—raise serotonin levels and decrease anxiety."

This is the paragraph that really danced in front of my eyes and then gave me a little slap on the head. It made me think about the way my life has been spilling over the last few weeks into a sadness that seems to hang onto me like Kate Winslet to the bedhead in the ocean.  Those little tear drops that are always just at the corner of my eyes. Even though at times I feel happiness, I also feel sadness that Chris cannot join me in the happy things.

Those four questions are so apt - not just to me but to us all.  When did you stop singing in the car because you are too busy worrying about what you need to do as soon as you get in the door;  how often do you sit in silence and just let your mind wander freely over daydreams or memories; why don't you dance at the kitchen sink anymore while the music plays and you do the dishes?

Pre-January 2014. I used to do these things a lot. I always used to sing in the car, the sewing room, the garden, at the sink; dance along to tunes while doing housework or the ironing  (sit-dance in the car, this involves a lot of hand and arm action!).

I am not doing them now and if I do sit in silence it is because I am in sorrow, not delightful contemplation about my next holiday or outing.

However, I do tell my story.  That's what I am able to do here.  My writing gives me a voice that I can use however I want to say whatever I want.  I don't have to worry about seeing a disapproving glance or a raised eyebrow or even an unholy heaven ward eye roll. I can just sit here and tap away and put all the thoughts that are chasing each other in my head, into a single neat little black line. One letter at a time. It's good, isn't it!

No one even has to read it to make me feel better but the great thing is, if they do and say something to me, then the blessing is magnified, many times.

I often told Chris that I hated to be ignored, so writing on a blog is great for me. The being ignored thing is something about being the youngest of six children, I think. By the time you get down the line that far, there's not a whole lot of energy left for child No. 6*. Not when you have a mother working and a Dad out earning a buck 7 days a week. So maybe, writing is a great way to say all those things that I would be unprepared to say face to face. I don't have to worry about burdening them with more information than they can handle either.  The reader can always just shut the lid, pull the plug, unsubscribe. 

I love the way the writer of the article above described these four points:

•           singing
•           sitting in silence
•           dancing
• and    telling your story            as healing salves

Doesn't sound calming?  We all need some kind of healing - we all suffer a hurt or a disappointment.  It's not just about me and my loss.  It's all of us who need a healing salve from time to time. 

Thriving When We Feel Supported is a by product of writing the blog. When I get supportive or encouraging feedback, I feel as though I have my own little band of cheering girls, egging me on and giving me the strength to just keep trying.  Trying is easy if I know that there is a friend out there who doesn't care if I face plant. They still love me, filthy faced or clean cheeked and that is a gift that no amount of money or fake concern can replicate.

And Knitting  - who could not be cheered, relaxed, soothed and calmed when they have a little pile of wool in their laps and two sharp objects criss-crossing, being used for the beautiful purpose of making something. And then giving it away - I love giving my hand mades away.  Whether they get used again, who knows. But the joy I have in making them is only surpassed in the joy of giving it to someone I love. 

Knitting decreases anxiety and releases seretonin; puts a smile on the receivers face (even if it is just a "Oh My God, she expects me to wear this" or worse  "She expects me to put this on my beautiful child!" type smile).  It doesn't matter, the job has been done! I am relaxed, my anxiety has decreased and my serotonin levels are increased. I have written my few paragraphs and I am at peace ......for awhile LOL!



* This is just my perception, not a slur against large families 

Time to Count your Blessings

Happy Mothers Day to all you women who mold the future generations. I hope that your day has beautiful moments that you can store away in the vault to draw out later and turn over and over to get every ounce of love and joy out of them.

I seem to be surrounded by happiness today. The newly weds; the about-to-be newly weds; my lovely niece has just given birth to a beautiful little girl - she already looks gorgeous and relaxed and she is only two days old! There are other little bubs on the way; my friends all seem to be trotting along OK and most of the family are well and happy.

I'm pleased about that.

I think too often we get so busy in our lives, so intent on making the most of each minute, so frantic running here and there getting our lists ticked off  (or is this just me??)  that we forget to count our blessings.

Those little things that put a smile on our face for no reason are blessings; those daily joys that are so small we don't even recognise them. You know, the coffee that tastes so good this morning; the toast that is cooked just right; the paper not being wet; dodging the cold and flu; if you have the cold and flu, the fact you can afford medicine to feel better; the blue sky after lots of rain and clouds - a metaphor for life if ever there was one - the warm bed; the friend who calls to say "Hi, how are you?"

I could go on and on but if you pause for a few seconds right now, I bet you can think of ten things, count off on your fingers, ten things that you are lucky, really lucky to have right now in your life.  It doesn't detract from your joy if other people also share that blessing, you know, it is still yours to acknowledge.

My heart has been pummeled these last few days. I have felt terrible grief and sorrow when I visited Chris' grave. It was the first time that I have been there since the headstone plaque was added.  I was not at all prepared for the tidal wave of sorrow that hit me like a tonne of bricks.  I was absolutely surprised by it. But even in all that grief, I was still reminded, beautifully so, of the love of caring friends and the concern of my loving family. How lucky am I to have those people who give me love when I need it most?

How can I not be thankful?  You probably all think I'm losing the plot. How  can I be so deep in sorrow and yet still think I am lucky?  I don't know the answer, I really don't know.  All I do know is that I still feel the love and comfort that surrounds me.  It is strange and weird but then again the goings on of the last few months have been strange, weird, wrecking, re-building, debilitating, divine and hopeful.  Most of all I am just so grateful for the love of a wonderful man who meant the world to me and I to him.  Truly grateful.

Doesn't mean that I  don't wish he was still right here beside me today and that we were having breakfast in Karratha as per the instructions!!

So for Mothers Day 2014, count your blessings!  Give thanks to your own Higher Being for all you have, let your friends and family know how much they mean to you, because you never know when that may be your last opportunity - plus it makes people feel good to know that they are appreciated :)

So put a smile on your own face and someone elses and say, "Thank you for all you do for me. I love you".  You will be surprised how good it feels to be grateful and let others know that as well.

My mother used to always say, "There is always someone better off than you and someone worse off than you - the better ones make you strive to be better and the worse off make you grateful for all you have."  she was a wise old gal, my mother.

To my darling children, thank you for all you have done for me and with me over the last 32 years. Thank you for being such loving, caring, thoughtful men and women who truly think of others and how you can improve their days.  I am thankful for the gift that is motherhood.  I also thank Chris for bringing to the equation my two lovely step sons, who just like their darling Dad are marvellous, caring men. See how lucky I am? I would have put their pictures on here for you all to see, but they might be embarrassed and goodness knows I have done that enough over the last twenty years or so LOL!! So Darren, Andrew, Jonathan, Danika and Emily - today I give thanks for you xxxxx

My heart is a museum filled with pictures of you

The Joy of Marriage

So it is Friday again, end of Week 14. Fourteen weeks, I cannot believe it.  It is true what everyone says, life does go on, amazing as that is. I think that I am glad that my life is still going on.  I would have missed out on a lot otherwise. Plus I have to experience everything twice, once for me and once for Chris.

The last few months have been jam packed; as full as a fat girls sock!

Emily and Farooq's wedding on April 5th was definately a high point.  A beautiful day filled with happy memories of family and friends being of one heart - all celebrating the beautiful love that can happen between two people.  A love that shuts out everyone else but embraces them all at the same time. A generous love that shares with other people the special joy of an intimate moment.

It is a love that only Emily and Farooq really appreciate and understand as they are the core of it, the drivers of that love and the nurturers of their union.

Emily and Farooq have their whole lives in front of them to wallow in the comforting bliss of knowing that there is one other person in the 6 billion others sucking in oxygen that share our earth, that truly, unconditionally have chosen to love the other.

It is very powerful stuff. 

The love between your lover and you eclipses all others because that love is a decision. Unlike your child, mother, brother, etc whom you love because you share DNA, your life partner is the biggest choice you ever make.

Next month, the gorgeous Danika and her equally beautiful Shaun, will also take this magical step and join together their lives in holy matrimony. Can a mothers heart get any fuller?

Danika and Shaun have a truly lovely story but that is hers to tell, but if you see her, ask her about their story, it will make you cry with joy - it was fate; a blessing that just had to be bestowed; written in stone thousands of years ago :)  I carry on a bit but you get the picture.

So this year, I have become both a widow and a mother in law.  Two of the biggest occurrences in one's life surely.  I thank God that the two new sons I have are both wonderful caring men, whom I know will hold my daughters' hands and hearts with the utmost of care and devotion. How can I not be comforted and happy in that ?

So Many Questions

Do you remember that line out of pretty woman. The one where Julia Roberts is made to feel bad because the ladies in the shop wont serve her.  Then her friend says that she is a great gal and deserves good stuff.  Julia replies with a line something like "have you ever noticed that the bad stuff people say to you is easier to believe than the good things."

It is a generalization I know, but the bad things that we tell ourselves and that others reinforce in us from time to time with their snide little remarks, stay in our head longer than the compliments that we are given.

We remember the negative with such greater clarity and the pain of those negative, hurtful remarks takes a lot longer to get over if they hit a nerve that we have already been picking at ourselves.

A lot of people say "I don't give a shit what anyone thinks of me".  I have never truly met a person like that.  Most of the people I know, do give a shit.  Isn't it innate in us to want to be liked and approved of ?  All that supposition that no man is an island and we all need to be loved and give love back must be proven somehow in the relationships we seek and those that we already have that we build on.

Funny things us humans, aren't we?  I am not saying that I have any insight into the answers of why or how, but I guess having lost the love of my life, (which is an oft stated remark) has made me wonder if this is the end of that special love we shared.  How does that love go on without the oxygen of attention and care from one half of the equation.  How do I feel that love when Chris isn't here?

People say that he is in my heart. Is that the memories and thoughts that I have about him?  Is that how I know that Chris' love for me lives on even though he had died?  We didn't have children together, so it can't live on in them.  Chris wrote me a letter that said he loved me with all his heart and that would never change but it has, hasn't it. That love just isn't the same anymore because Chris is not here. So do I hold onto the love that we shared when he was alive?

I just cant get my head around it all. It is a concept that I have really been struggling with - I guess you can tell.   Maybe as I make my way through months and a couple of years. I will be able to understand more how the feeling of love manifests long after the person has gone.

I know that Chris loved me, he loved me so very much and he displayed that love to all, especially to me. He loved me probably a lot more than I deserved (see there's that negative thought pattern again, so much easier than saying I am absolutely adorable and deserve to be loved by such a wonderful man as Chris) and I know that he knew how much I loved him while he was alive. But there is the difference, I still love him now cos I am still alive. I know I still love him, I think about him every minute and everything I see, do, think of, remember - it all reminds me of Chris.

And I miss him terribly, so much that it actually does hurt sometimes.

So do I just hold onto the memory of how much he loved me or do I believe that no matter where he is, he is still loving me?  See, I just cannot get my mind to circle around the concept of love after death and come to any sort of understanding.

Is it the negative thoughts or is it the grief that just will not allow me to grasp it all, it is too overwhelming. Or is it a lack of faith?  Too many questions, too many open ended sentences that make no sense, too many instances that I wish Chris was here to ask him the answers. Maybe if I concentrate really hard, he will tell me the answers again.

None of this makes sense, I know but sometimes it helps to get the ramblings out of my head and onto the page.

Different Life, Different Title

I have been overwhelmed at the number of page views that my old blog, "From Tassie to Karratha" generated over the past couple of months. Maybe it was the same ten people checking in to see if I had updated with a new post! Whatever the case was, confusion ensued as to whether or not I had in fact still left for Karratha, without Chris.

Well, no, I haven't.  Those plans were for Chris and I; those plans involved and centred around Chris' new job.  I still had my position here at the hospital. I was just on Long Service Leave at the time Chris was diagnosed. My home is here, two thirds of my kids are here and my friends are scattered all over the place :) Something had to stay familiar and soothing, right?

So the need for a name change became more evident to me over the last few weeks.  So this is it.

From Now On

Seems appropriate, don't you think?

When I was writing the old blog, I had so many ideas of things I wanted to tell you. I thought they were interesting, I hope that you will too, when I finally get around to writing them down. there will also be new situations that come up that I will share my thoughts with you about.  Being sad, lonely, scared, grateful, appreciative, happy, all the memories of Chris.

So here we go.  The person is still the same person but the context and situation has drastically changed.  I can't promise that there won't be days when I will be maudlin, but I will endeavour to keep those to a minimum. The "journey" ahead will be alien to a lot of you, it is to me as well.  I just hope that by giving you an insight into what happens to an ordinary 52 year old woman who suddenly becomes a widow, will help you to understand either a bit about yourself or someone that crosses your path - be it by chance, in passing or one of your own loved ones.  That won't be all I write about though, so don't be put off thinking it will just be tears and chest beating.

Feel free to join in and leave comments - but I warn you, I will delete any that upset me - after all it's my blog and I will cry if I want to :) But only if I want to.

Soldiering On

Another month, another week, another day, another hour, all without Chris.

How it works; how I keep going?  I do not know.  People said to me when Chris died, just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Well you know, I am not one for cliches - I hate those droll lines that we drag out when we can't possibly think of what else to say - sometimes it is better to say nothing. And to say so, "I don't know what to say, so I will just stand here, look you in the eye and say, 'I'm sorry."

However one of those cliches that did get aired a lot was "One day at a time, or Just keep putting one foot in front of the other".  These two have actually proved very helpful, if not a bit repetitive.
You know what, some days that is ALL I can do.  Other times I bounce through the day and even truly smile, a real smile that comes from happiness (or Karen saying something funny.*)

The other day one of the doctors came into the office and said "Oh it's lovely to see your happy smile again!"  I said, "Well not really happy, T...." he said, "Well in your heart you're happy."  
What the!!! is he for shizzle?  Shows how little people actually comprehend or take notice of whats going on.  A smile can be a mask and only your true friends know the difference.
That's OK though, I guess, 100% of the people you come into contact with cant be expected to be on cue and in tune like your mates are.  Unreasonable is what that would be. 


I understand that folk want me to be happy, they want me to be smiling and they want things to go back to the comfortable norm that they liked, however as much as I try to be that way, for others as well as for myself  - God knows that would be so much easier - it's can't always be sunny and bright - I can't always be sunny and bright.

Thank God that I have a dozen or so really good friends and family right at my fingertips and another dozen or so on Good Old Facey, that embrace me no matter what my face looks like; smiling or crying. They still stand straight and true and that gift is one that I cannot put words to or show how grateful I am. 

There is an old saying, A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed
You know as a youngen, I never really understood that message, that is I literally didn't know what it meant. My goodness,  do now. 

I am so thankful for so many things. I am grateful that we never got on that boat; I am grateful that Danika and Shaun moved back to Launceston when they did; I thank God each day for my wonderful family;  I am grateful for the beautiful day we had for the wedding; I am grateful for the love that comes to me just when I need it from at times very unexpected corners.

I am grateful, eternally so, for the wonderful man that shared my life for nearly 19 years, who loved me so much that he never wanted me to change one thing about myself and I am grateful that he let me love him with a fierce, crazy, determined, wonderful love that left him in no doubt how cherished he was and I knew how much he loved me back. 

I spent ANZAC Day in Canberra with Emily and Farooq. Farooq marched in the ANZAC Day parade and I was so proud of him. I watched with amazement as those old fellas marched on, some with sticks or canes, others in the back of jeeps - still proud, still soldiering on. Is it an art form or can anybody learn how to do it. Soldier on , I mean. What they went through and what hundreds and hundreds of wives,lovers, mothers, aunts, uncles etc etc went through when so many thousands of young men didn't come home. 

I am only one, I know, but to me Chris was my whole world. He was my axis, my true love who didn't have to love me, he chose to love me. He chose to live and share his life with me, unconditionally. And he never held back, he was generous, giving and so supportive in all my endeavours.

So to honour Chris and to keep our agreement, I will Soldier On. At times I might not be very successful but if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, I am still making some kind of progress.

My brother has said to me a few times that it only hurts so much because Chris and I had it so damn good.  That is true. But Dear God I just wish You hadn't taken Chris quite so soon.  I don't know when would have been better though, maybe never.




*Karen and I are hilarious by the way, even if we are the only ones who think we are - well I used to be so I am sure it will come back to me :)