Another Year - 2020

I have some thoughts that I want to get down.  No particular order but thoughts that have been running around in my head for a few months, well the last six years probably. I guess they need to get out of my head as another anniversary is within days. The person who I most wish to say all this to is not able to hear or respond.

Six years. Six years since my darling drew his last breath and left me alone to gather up the threads of life and go on without him. Those days from December 2013 to January 2014 are instilled in my mind like a red hot poker to my side.  I cannot rid my mind of the visceral images, smells, thoughts and memories that live in my head like a throbbing sore tooth. Always there, always reminding me of its presence. 

Rarely have I asked myself why Chris; there is no comfort in that - rain falls on us all. I have though at times uttered the words, "Why then? Why now? Why not a little longer?" The hopes and dreams all quashed never to be realised. Going alone with out his help and guidance.
The space that is left all around me by Chris' absence is profoundly tangible.  I can feel the emptiness; I can feel his moustache on my lip sometimes and I can feel his love still but I cannot reach out and feel him.

Even though I am so blessed to have family and friends who include and care for me, I am still alone and this is often really confronting to deal with and accept. I am not very often lonely as I enjoy solitude and if I dont, I can always get busy in some activity. The reality of going through life alone, without your best friend, lover and confidante, is extremely hard. Going to family gatherings solo, trying to find someone to accompany you on outings; being in a room of couples and the seat beside you is empty....

I often say that Chris made everything better - he made the hard times better and he made the good times more enjoyable.  Not having him to share life with is at times just so sad. This is not a cry for pity but it is the way I feel and it is the way my life is now. 

So much has happened in six years - as it does in everyone's life.  I am not in that boat alone. I have welcomed dear little boys into my arms and heart and had the joy of spending beautiful hours with them.  The joy they bring has been immeasurable. With another on the way, my cup runneth over. I have also welcomed new family members - I have been a guest of honour at three weddings - all my children have married in the last six years! More joy to my world.

I retired from full time work and now just work when and if I want to. what a beautiful luxury at 56 to be able to retire.

I have travelled many times; seen iconic world attractions, been to museums and historic buildings that I once only dreamed of ever being able to see. The list is too long to go through here - and that blows my mind.  For a little girl from Wynyard,Tasmania, at the bottom of the earth to see such things!! Who would have ever thought??

Our family has endured more losses, grieved more for those who passed away; we have collectively had personal losses, personal joys, personal health issues and yet we are still here -maybe not in the same formation as previously but getting on with the business of living. As best we can.

I know I am still luckier than the largest percentage of the population with all I have - a dear loving family, a home, dear friends who love and care, an income, an ability to please myself with choices about how and what I will do to fill my days. So much to be grateful for, thankful for and to cherish. As I have said before on this blog - my darling Aunt Thelma gave me the best advice - "Build yourself a happy life, Kathy" - and you know what, I think I have.

I think the horrific bush fires have caused much introspection for many folk and I am not quarantined from this either.  Chris and his family lost everything in the 1967 bush fires in Southern Tasmania and he retold me stories that were frightening to listen to, let alone live through first hand.  I think of him every time I hear a news report regarding the onslaught of the fires and their outrageous destruction. This gets me pondering about the individuals in the stories - the thousands effected and the lasting traumas that will play out for years to come.  The effect is staggering. I pray to God it is over soon and they can start recovering their lives.

On a side note - There has been much politicising of the ravaging fires and lots of finger pointing; lots of laying of blame and point scoring. What is the good of that? Social media can be fun, useful for information and good to catch up with distant friends and family.  However the epidemic of bullying, faceless trolling and nasty, hurtful comments about people that you will never meet, well that just does my head in. Just keep scrolling, you dont have to stop and empty your anger, resentment and jealousy onto those you disagree with. Just stop it. Lets just work together to help, build each other up and encourage one another to live our best lives.

So 2020 has begun.  There are days to look forward to; days to relish with all the enthusiasm that one can muster and days that undoubtedly will be tough, hard to cope with. Births and birthdays to wallow in, cake to eat, candles to blow out; Anniversaries to celebrate, others to mourn.  But always the gift of love, in its many forms, to be thankful for.

Back to Happy

 Where have I been?  What have I seen?  Who have I met? Who have I lost?

Three years since I have sat at this seat in front of the laptop and typed on this platform.  To say that life got in that way is the biggest understatement and I wont try to fill you in with all that has surpassed but needless to say I have been busy! 

Returning from the South Pacific, docking at dawn in Sydney

The most intriguing, surprising and challenging occurrance was my retirement from fulltime paid employment in Deccember 2017.  I had thought I would retire at 60 and be very happy with that but a series of chance remarks, meetings and interventions  gave me the option to retire at 56. 

Next week sees a momentus time in my life...I turn 57! Why momentus - because I can access my superannuation thereby giving me a new source of income.  Sleepless nights, nervous tummies, hand wringing and more conversations than my friends and families  deserve have finally brought me to this position. How blessed am I ~ I know that Lady Luck, God in all his wisdom and fate have all been kind.

Travel, spending precious time with my grandsons, who are adorable, and learning how to be a single retired lady are high on the agenda for the next few months.  Hopefully over the next few weeks I will be able to share with you some of my next advernture:  Next week I am putting my car on the Bass Strait ferry and travelling around Victoria before I head up to Canberra to see my daughter and grandson (SIL will be on training in QLD).
                                              
                                              Oh The Places I Will Go !

Cruising the Pacific - warm swims in beautiful oceans

Life still puzzles me, enthralls me and brings me to my knees - with wonder, amazement and despair.  I am still learning how to be a sucessful widow, a dedicated Mum and Momo, a good friend and a supportive sister.  It is an ongoing work, artform, dedication that I hope will last me to my last black of Lindt chocolate.  So many adventures to go, I hope that I can document them and you can come along with me through the words and pictures. 

Flowers from a friend - the best kind

Cherished

Nearly twenty years ago, I met this extraordinarily ordinary man.  We had both come onto the scene with a fair amount of baggage and hurts.  There were no guarantees and no sure fire way to make a new relationship work or prosper. It was just suck it and see  and hope.

We were both tentative, OK so maybe I dived in head first, but he was tentative.  He didn't want to have his "arse kicked". (He had a way with words. yes?)

As the weeks went on and we could see the potential of a future, we had a few heart to hearts.

I asked my darling, which is what he most definitely was to become, "What do you want out of this relationship?"  He reeled off some of the things he was looking for - companionship, someone to love, someone to share things with, go out together etc.

He asked me what I wanted.

I said, "I only want one thing; I want to be cherished."  

He said,"What does that mean exactly?"  "Well you know, I want to be loved and held in high esteem. I want to be your number one." I wanted to be that highest prize, the be all and end all, the upper most in his devotion and care.  I knew what I wanted I just found it hard to put into words.

So I found the words.  I went to the dictionary and then I embroidered that definition in cross stitch as a reminder to us both for all time.

And so it was.  The benchmark for our lives together.  

This embroidery always hung by our bed and many many, nights I lay in bed and looked at this definition and thought of all the ways that Chris cherished me and showed that devotion and care. I was his treasure and he was mine.   

When Chris was working away, as he very often was, I would look at this word and think of the conversation that we had had so long ago.  

Well just the other night, I was laying in bed, looking up at that picture when I realised something. 

Cherish - take away the E and the H at the end and what does it spell?  CHRIS

And he lovingly fulfilled my request until the day he died.

The Day We Met

It was April 13th, 1995, my brothers 40th Birthday. He was 42 and I was 33. It was a sunny, autumn day. I didn't know it but my life was about to become fabulous.

He pulled up outside and I was watching him approach the house from the safety of my kitchen. He couldn't see me, but I could watch him. I liked the look of him right there!

As he walked up my front path, I could see that he was wary and maybe nervous.  I was excited. He knocked on the door and I let the most wonderful man, not only into my home but into my heart.  That was the beginning of a 19 year love affair that changed us, rewarded us, moved us to tears, frustrated us, made us laugh, completely encapsulated us both and set us free. We had a love that was like no other I had ever had.  I felt safe, looked after, adored, fulfilled, appreciated.

Most importantly of all, I felt cherished.

His name was Chris and as sure as there are leaves on trees and clouds in the sky, Chris was brought to my door because he was everything in a man that I needed.

I can still see clearly what he had on; a muted green shirt, Levi jeans and a pair of casual Diadora sports shoes, tan. He had wavy black hair that was starting to grey at the sides, a moustache and a shy smile.  He had beautiful eyes and elegant hands - apart from the middle finger on his left hand which was missing from the first knuckle down; the result of a childhood accident with a chaff cutting machine.

He came in for coffee and was still there two hours later.  We worked out that we knew some of the same people from our sons playing hockey at the same time, but apart from that coincidence, we had never heard of each other - strange as that is in a small Tassie town.

He had two sons, 13 and 16. I had three children 13, 9 and 6.  He operated his own business in scrap metal recycling and I worked at the local newspaper.
I had been a single Mum for three and a half years. He had been separated for nearly a year.

About an hour after he had left that first day, he called me and said, "So what did you think of me?"  That still makes me smile now. I dare say it always will.  So he was honest, up front, had a sense of humour and a little unsure of himself - what's not to like??

Years later he would tell me that he fell in love with me that day I opened the door and smiled at him. I think it took a bit longer than that, but that's what he said :)

I fell in love with his kindness, his thoughtfulness, his lovely smile and his love for other people, my children included.  Many years later I would tell my sister, "I will love Chris till the day I die, if for no other reason than for what a wonderful father he has been to my kids."

It is hard not to love  a man so much when he clearly loves your children and treats them as if they were his own. Over the years he would do his best to be the kind of loving Dad that they needed so badly. I cannot remember him ever not being there when they needed him, with just the right words and the right amount of care.

My love for that man is still as strong as it was on March 22, 1997 - the day we married. In fact I believe the love got stronger, deeper, more comforting and more precious with the passage of time.

In two weeks time, I have another hurdle to jump. Chris' birthday. I don't yet know how we will remember that day. However, as I recall now all the happy birthdays that we have celebrated together, I only hope that those memories will one day make me happy again, not sad.

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.

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.

The last 13 weeks and two days

I imagine that a lot of you who have been logging on to see what has happened to the Great Adventurers are wondering, "Why has she gone silent?"  My dear on line friends, so much has happened in the last 13 weeks and 2 days that it would take more than a page to tell you. So this is a paraphrase of the events that unfolded.

As you know from the last few posts in January, Chris came home from Karratha with an acutely sore back.  When I went out to the airport to meet his flight, I was so excited to see him; we had a lot of catching up to do and I had a big list of jobs for him to complete :) 

However his back was troubling him so much that he could hardly walk straight. So bad that he could not even bear to lay down and had resorted to sleeping in a chair.  My poor darling just got worse instead of better despite rest and care.

It was a huge time for us, Christmas; Danika and Shaun, newly engaged, coming home from the Kimberley; Emily and Farooq here (with some wedding plans to finalise) and the last of arrangements to be made for Chris and I.

Well we pushed on and Chris put on a very brave face.  Now when I look back I am astounded at how very brave he was and the intestinal fortitude that he portrayed is so very like him.

So  after Doctors visits etc, we decided to keep going with our plans hoping that once we got to Karratha, his back would settle down - we were convinced that it was the result of a workplace injury, so we would deal with it there.  How wrong we were.

Over the weekend before we were to leave Chris' legs started to swell, quite badly.  I made an emergency appointment for the doctor. Chris had had blood tests taken the previous Thursday and after a lengthy discussion with the Doc and him at first looking at the wrong results - his face got grim and the whole tone of the visit changed when he finally looked at the correct results - showing a huge anomaly in the liver function tests. 

"You're not going anywhere," he said,  "Chris is very sick and we must get this sorted before you head off anywhere." My heart was already beating like a runaway train - I knew what was coming. 
"What are you thinking?" I said. "Malignancy or heart failure."  Chris said, "What is malignancy?"  "Cancer."  And then our world fell at our feet and my heart started to shatter.

My darling Chris, my beautiful husband, the centre of my world and the reason that I have been getting out of bed every morning was ill, seriously, seriously ill.

Monday 13th of January, D Day, turned out to be D Day for Disaster Day. Devastation Day. Darkest Day EVER!

By Wednesday we were sitting in the oncology specialists office and finding out just how grim and serious it was.  Spread lung cancer - lymph nodes, liver and bone.  

By Friday, Chris was starting to get dehydrated, his pain was unmanagable and he couldn't eat or drink due to hiccups and extreme indigestion. I had been getting up to him several times a night to re-position him and move the cushions that were supporting him.

At 6 a.m. on Friday, just four days after the initial diagnosis, I had no choice but to call the ambulance to take Chris to hospital. I cried and cried as I discussed it with him, but we both knew that there really was no option. He needed more care than I could give him.

As they loaded him into the ambulance, I hugged Danika and said "I am so scared that he will never come home again."  He didn't.

The speed with which he deteriorated was mind blowing.  The night before he passed away, I stayed at the hospital, just Chris and I.  We had lovely chats, I told him that everything I did in future, I would enjoy twice as much, once for him and once for me.
For dinner he had a baked custard with raspberries on the top and then for dessert he had jelly and ice cream - his staple for the last few days.  He did love his ice cream :)   I asked him if he had enjoyed his dinner and he said, "Beautiful!"  He always did delight in the simple things in life.

After his dinner, I settled him in his chair to watch TV; he kept saying "I will be better tomorrow; tomorrow I will be better. " Turns out he was right.

I kissed him several times, told him how much I loved him and what a wonderful husband he was.  As I  turned to walk out the door, he raised his hand and said, "Love you too." Those were the last words he said to me.

The next morning I went into the hospital really early and he was still sleeping.  I put up a message that said, 'Just sitting here watching my darling sleep' - actually I was watching him die, he was already unconscious. 

Just two weeks later after being moved to a palliation ward at the private hospital, Chris passed into the Hands of his Maker. 18 days from diagnosis to death.

The grief, pain and heart break of losing your best friend, lover, companion, confidante, champion, advisor and the person who loved me unconditionally for nearly 19 years is indescribable, so I wont even try.  There has been a lot to get used to.

I have lost many things - a good friend of 20 years standing; my sense of who I am (without Chris to balance me out, who am I?)  and at times the only reason to keep going was for our kids. 

My family have been amazing and without them I really don't think I could have coped at all. 

In the last few weeks, it has been our wedding anniversary and the wedding of our youngest daughter.  I nearly made myself sick with worry about how that day would unfold but you know what, it was a totally marvellous day. 

I am not sure when I will post again.  But for today, I think this is enough for you all to digest.

Thank you in advance for your support. xx

D Day

and that would translate to Departure Day.

We all knew it was coming; we have been planning for it for nearly three months and then all of a sudden it has snuck right onto my shoulders and gripped me around the neck without a fanfare or some kind of emotional warning bell.

At this very moment as I write this, I am still pretty calm.  Mind you, don't know how that feeling will transpire at 6 p.m. as I pull out of the drive at Franmaree Road and head towards the boat in Devonport.

I think that I would have been a lot more excited about the actual trip if Chris had not been laid up since he got home mid December with a bad back. That has put a dampener on everything, I gotta say. 

But I still feel optimistic and I still feel blessed and hopeful.  I am also very, very thankful. As the regular readers amongst you can corroborate, it has been a struggle at times. I am just so grateful that my wonderful family and friends have pitched in and supported me in any way they could.  What on earth would I have done without you all;  giving me your blessings and encouragement.  Making me laugh when all I really wanted to do was bawl and then letting me bawl when I really needed to. 

I can't really imagine what it will be like to leave and realise that it will be for quite a long time.  I know that we are coming back for Emily and Farooq's wedding, but it will be different  - it won't be our home anymore. And I don't think that it ever will be again.

We have lived here for 10 years - the longest I have EVER lived anywhere apart from Mum and Dad's farm at Boat Harbour.  So to say I am attached to this house is an understatement. I have so many happy memories here and so many sad times as well.  But even the bad wasn't that bad; the good was bloody fantastic though!

Life is a queer old bird, isn't she? The triumphs and tribulations, the sickness and health (that we take for granted, most of the time) and the joy that we experience just in the everyday mundaneness of  the daily grind. The funny little things that make us laugh till we pee ourselves and our sides ache - or in my case, wheeze uncontrollably till I need Ventolin!  Once I start my Precious Pup impersonation, it just makes the kids laugh more :)

But as Danika says, " I Love Us!" I really do.  I love the way we stick by each other, I love the way that we know each other so well and can read each other so well. We know what we need before anything is said.  I also love that we still learn things about each other all the time. I love them all so much and what is particularly beautiful is I KNOW they love me back.  Really what more can one middle aged rotund little lady need??

One of the most influential books that I have ever read was by A.B. Facey, "A Fortunate Life".  It resounds so well in my heart because that's exactly how I think of my life.  So very, very fortunate; so full and so lucky. 

I will do my best to keep you up to date with what is happening along the way, but as internet connection may or may not be sketchy, bear with me :)

So as Chris and I depart our beloved Tassie soil and make our way West, I just want to thank Jonathan, Danika, Emily, Shaun, Farooq, Kerry, Debbie, Terry, Angela, Di and Dad, plus my lovely nieces Alarna, Claire and Emma - for your love, for your help, for your advice and caring and for the hugs and kisses that have held me together. 

Famille - mon amour, ma vie 

Something to smile about and something not worth the smile

First up I want to say THANK YOU!!

Thank you to each and every one of you who read my little blog posts.  Thank you for taking the time out of your busy days to spend a few minutes here.  This blog is something that I have been wanting to do and mulling over for a few years now but always put it off for a few reasons.

I thought that there would be very little interest in what I had to say and I don't mean that in a fake humble way, I just mean that not every one is like me and has a fascination with the ordinariness of daily life. Even though I find other peoples lives rivetting in their individuality, others may enjoy a more cosmopolitan view of things. 

The other reason is that I was always too busy and or tired.  But that will not change in the near future so best get on with it. 

I wonder too at the value of opening up to the general public a personal insight into my life.

Can it be too much? I do tend to wear my heart on my sleeve (my emotional reactions have always been on my face for all to see) and boundaries are there for the crossing.  Am I leaving a great big vulnerable gap open to inspection that may come back and bite me on the arse. Time will tell, I guess. 

However! Since I commenced to put my thoughts into this online journal, I have had some really encouraging feedback. Better than that, it has facilitated others'  memories of their school days or childhood. So we are both winners out of that.  Long time friends are also reporting to getting to know a side of me that they never knew existed.
Good or bad?? I don't know.

The blog also holds a record of this time; all the joy, the hard grit and what was going on during this huge time of transition for my family.

I started back in October thinking that if only the family reads it, at least they will have an idea of what we are doing. Then I started to digress - hard to comprehend, I know! Me losing track, no way.  Anyway after just 36 posts, yesterday turned out to be momentous occasion.

2000 page views in just under 2 months!!!

WOW! I am so happy; who woulda thought it.  So thank you all. I hope that I continue to write about stuff that you find entertaining and/or relevant. 

 Now for the bad news and disappointment:

As you know I have been looking forward to my husband coming home from Karratha for Christmas.  Well yesterday was to be the big day.  It is a 12 hour turn around from Karrratha to Launceston. It literally takes ALL day to get here.  You could fly into Hong Kong quicker.

So Chris arrives into Melbourne tired and achey (he has a bad back at the mo) to be told that his 7 p.m. flight with QANTAS has been canned because they didn't allow for a flight crew on that particular Qantas Link flight. He had to go over the aerobridge and stay the night at the Park Royal.

I was already tired enough to weep after a really busy day and then to get that on top of it all, I just went to my bed.

The upshot, and there is always one, isn't there? - was that he got to sleep in one of the most comfortable beds that we have ever had the pleasure to lay our weary bones on.  The beds at the Park Royal at Tullermarine are the bomb, divine! So lucky Chris with his bad back, at least he had a good nights sleep.

Today it is a gorgeous sunny, light breeze, blue skies kind of day ~ perfect for flying down the river. So with a fair breeze and a good handful of grace and hope, we will pick him up this afternoon some time, if Qantas can be bothered, I suppose :)

In other good news, Daughter D and SIL to be made their way safely to Coober Pedy last night, so they are getting closer each day.  It is an awful long way from Jarlmadangah in the far northern Kimberley to Launceston, Tasmania. They have sent home some amazing photos, thanks to Viber and Facebook - but that is their story to tell.  I am just thrilled that they are on their way. That first smooch is going to be a beauty!

I hope that all your Christmas plans are falling in line with your level of enthusiasm and time frame and that you are not too frantic in the Pre-Christmas rush.

My Son

My youngest daughter and her fiance arrived home for Christmas yesterday.  I have been so looking forward to her arrival.  I stood at the airport windows as the plane unloaded with the loved ones of Launceston's community, in anticipation, just like them.

I watched both ends of the plane, scanning for a tall, gorgeous girl and her handsome man. Panic set in a little as I couldn't pick out their faces - maybe I had the wrong flight?  So I went over to the doors and after a while, there they were! Oh Joy Divine. The house is starting to fill up with our beautiful family that we haven't seen for some time. My husband comes home tomorrow and next week Daughter D with her fiance. We will have three dogs and a cat thrown into the mix, just to make it even more interesting.

The last two months, it has just been my son and I at home.  We have settled into our own routine and comfortable, quiet co-existence. Between us we have managed to keep the chores under control and potter about in the garden and me kept busy mostly with the packing.  His strong arms have come in very handy though, taking all the boxes down stairs to await pick up (Sorry for packing them so heavy).

He has been a real comfort to me; just to have him around; someone to look forward to coming up the stairs each night and someone to cook a meal for or just share the day with. These last couple of months would have been a lot tougher without having him with me.

As I watched him go off to work this morning, my heart was filled with sadness and my eyes welled over. I am going to miss him so much and our little time together, just the two of us is coming to an end. It is sad but it is happy because that also heralds the arrival of his sisters and my husband, which is fabulous. But I will treasure these last weeks that we have had together, just us two.

It got me thinking ~ There is nothing to compare to the overwhelming emotion that comes with the birth of your first child. No greater joy, no more instantaneous love than holding that first little bubby in your arms, realising that you have brought a little person into the world and he is yours.  This is not to diminish the joy and wonder of consequent babies at all but there can never be another first, can there? My daughters will agree with me, one day :)

I was fairly young when I had my son, just 20. My husband and I didn't have a brand new house, filled with lovely leather furniture, gleaming white goods and big screen TV. There was no beaut new 4WD in the driveway and we certainly didn't have any money in the bank.  Everything we owned was second hand, except for the wedding presents that came into that little house in Dodgin Street with us.

The only new things that I had for that little baby, were a couple of blue Bonds singlets and the cloth nappies that Mum had bought. Everything else was handed down or I had made. We didn't care though. I don't think that impacted on his health, our happiness or the love that came to live with us through that child. We were blessed.

Over the years, of course, there have been rough patches, as there are with any child, big or small. I never wavered in my belief in him though and I hope that no matter what, he always knew and still knows, that the day he was born was the first Happiest Day of My Life. The first day that I came to know what true love is - the love you have for your child. Nothing can compare, no other love is measured against it and no other love will withstand the trials and heartache as the love for your child will.

He has grown into a handsome, beautiful man.  He has a loving nature, is kind and friendly, generous to a fault and loyal to his friends. He adores his sisters and no matter where they are, he would do anything for them. What more could a mother ask for in a son? He thinks about other people and is sensitive and has a great sense of humour.  No wonder my cup runneth over.

So just before we all get busy beyond sanity and before I am inundated with a houseful of people (as wonderful as that will be), I just wanted to take time to tell you and him, what a wonderful son I have and how much I love him.  I must have done something good for God to bless me so; just as his name says, Jonathan  - Gift from God.

Band of Four

* tissue alert Alarna

 I spoke the other day about Mum's three best friends.  I seem to be constantly thinking about Mum lately.  Maybe it is writing this blog daily that triggers many memories of Mum.  I think a lot too about what she would have thought about our move. I wish I could ask her advice.  I'm pretty sure what she would say, but it would be great to hear it. Maybe if I listen more closely.

Anyway about those girls, they were always The Girls to each other, always girls. Lorraine, Faye, Shirley and Mum, Minnie.  Typical names of their era and typical of the kind of ordinary small town working mothers. But truly remarkable in their own way, each one of them.

They probably all knew each other previous to working together, such was the community of our home town in the 60s.  That was when Mum went back to work and when to a certain extent, her independance  strengthened.  I reckon Dad would agree with me, Mum was never a dependant person, she rowed her own boat and stood firm on her own set of values and attitudes. However she must have relished being more financially independant of the household only budget. With six children, I reckon Dad was pleased about that as well, the extra money must have seemed God sent. The added bonus of course, was her life long friendship with The Girls.

Between them these mothers had 17, or is it 18, children. Shirley, who I believe was the youngest, had two children - sign of the times with a changing attitude and  contraception probably. So they all had their plates full already with all those kids.  They were all good cooks, who was the best is still being debated; they all supported their husbands in their given fields, cared for elderly parents and they all made real time for each other.

Mum worked mostly night shift in later years, as I think Lorraine did as well. Mum used to  come home from work and sleep until noon. Then she would do her jobs and go into town.  We lived 5 miles out of town  on a small farm, a hobby farm it would be called now.  I reckon most days she would visit one or other of her friends. 

Every now and then her little white Torana would be waiting at school to collect me. I used to love that, no bus home plus it meant we were going somewhere together. I can't remember ever being bored or disappointed if that was to visit one of The Girls.

Those four ladies supported each other through illness, death, marriages, births of grandchildren, arguments with their husbands, trouble at work and I imagine the trials that come with all those kids. They used to laugh, cry and get angry together. They never had to ring or text before hand; they knew each others routines and they knew that all they had to do was turn up and the kettle would be put on.  Jobs  would be put to one side and total concentration given. No beeping mobile to distract them, no TV blaring in the background, just the beautiful art of friendship.

Those Girls were fabulous women, strong hard working women, loving family women but my godness they could be devils.  I can remember heaps of stories about them that I don't think are approrpiate for here. Let's just say they had fabulous senses of humour.  As I sit here I can picture each one of them, their faces crinkled, heads thrown back laughing uproariously  at something one of the others had said.

Like the time they were all taking Mum taking ouf to lunch on her birthday and Mum asked Faye if she could possibly borrow a pair of pants as she had fogotten to put hers on. Now my mother was an impeccable dresser - hat, jacket and gloves always matched, lippy always on.  And there she sat in her lovely Fletcher Jones kilt with matching tweed jacket and thistle pin, without her knickers on! Of course when Mum passed away, all these funny stories came out.

The Girls all came out to the farm together when Mum died,  that memory is just so vivid.  Mum had made plans and had completed little jobs before she became ill.  One of those tasks was to choose a piece of jewellery for each of her friends. She wrote a little note and put either a favourite brooch or necklace in a box for each Girl.  When my sisters gave them Mum's gift, we were all huddled in the bathroom (don't ask me why, except to say it was just off the kitchen), they said "oh Min, that's just like you!"

Each friend had a specific role in the group. Lorraine probably held the role of spiritual counsellor.  I know she served that role to me after Mum had a heart attack and I went to her for counsel. I asked Lorraine how I would ever cope if I lost my mother. She said, "When you need it, Kathy, God will give you the strength you need." And thank goodness, He did, because I certainly needed it.  Wise, wise women, all of them.

Last year at the local Christmas Parade, I ran into Shirley. I have to say it was nearly as good as if it were Mum. She was so happy to see me and my word I was happy to see her too, dear thing.  Sadly Lorraine passed away not long after Mum and I am not sure about Faye. Like me, Shirley still misses Mum and the other girls.

Those girls remained friends all their lives.  I bet there were times when one or another would hurt or piss them off, but they got over it. Theirs was a honest true friendship and they each treasured it. It was a balanced relationship based on love and respect for the other. 

Mum said to me, more than once, " true friends are like diamonds, precious and rare. Fake friends are like sand, found everywhere. "  The trick is to know the difference and then protect it once you have found it like a precious diamond deserves.

Friendship

I know that it is not strictly related - but I did say that this blog was about the journey and that includeds all the days along the way that will get us to the destination.

21 years ago I was introduced to a lady, a few years older than I, but in a very similar set of circumstances to me. Well over the years we have both moved, re-married, changed jobs, changed hair, changed outlooks, changed friends. Made each other laugh, made each other cry, cried together, laughed together.   I sometimes wonder what would be different in my life if we had never been introduced and hit it off so well. 

I guess she knows me pretty well, I know her pretty well; we have shared a lot of really good times and a few really shitty times. But you know what I love most about her - she has the biggest heart.  Isn't that a great attribute to admire in your friend - a truly giving big heart.

Well this week, has been pretty rough on me.  I feel terrible, I am aching all over,  I am tired, I am missing Chris and the girls and I am fraught with emotions about leaving work, leaving people, saying goodbye - not to mention all the tasks to complete. It is hard to put into words the confliction I feel ~ so excited about our move but so anxious and worried.  I know it will all be good - God would not have given us this amazing opportunity if it wasn't going to be fantastic. Still....I can't help but be stressed at times.
 
Then this morning the postie arrives with a parcel from my pal. The most wonderful gift. While we were overseas, I kept a daily journal on Facebook with photos so that the folk at home could see what we were seeing in a vicarious kinda way.  I had trouble with my tablet while we were away and it kept typing  the beginning of each word in capital letters . It was very annoying. Put in a few typos (I'm not the worlds best typist) and it made for interesting reading :)
Anyway Christine had copied each entry, minus the capitals, saved each photo and dropped it onto a Word document which she then printed out and gave to Chris and I in a bound booklet - all 67 pages of it. A record of our fabulous time away to look at for years to come.  It will become one of my most treasured items.  To say I was thrilled is the biggest understatement since "Katy Perry sings a good tune"!

I was just blown away by the thoughfulness and love that went into this gift  and I am humbled that anyone would think enough of me/us to do that.

It just reminds me of all the blessings that I have been honoured with and how much I love what we have built together over the last 18 years. I hope and pray that we will make many more wonderful memories together, with our families and friends there to witness and share in the making of them.

 

Family Love, Friend Love - really the most important thing .

 

As Garth Brooks once said, " You really aren't rich until you have something that money cannot buy."

 

My Cup Runneth Over.