Something Good for the World

"The man who has planted a garden feels that he has done something good for the world." - Charles Dudley Warner.

That was true of my husband.  He loved to plant things.  He loved to grow things.  He was a natural nurturer.  Chris planted veggies, roses, begonias and little annuals.  He used to get excited when his begonias started to poke their little green heads through the potting mix that was his own secret recipe.  I still could not tell you what was in it.

Not a begonia but a hippeastrum

Chris particularly loved to potter about the garden and then come in and tell me all about what he had done or what he planned to do.  He loved a second opinion :)
Dad and Chris would talk for hours about the joys and challenges of gardening.

Dad has been gardening for about 85 years and every year that I have been around, Dad has had a veggie patch.
When he was 90 he won Community Gardener of the year!! Not bad eh?

 Chris would often surprise me with a vase of his beautiful roses on the dining table when I got home from work. "Smell that red one. It's just beautiful."  And it was.  Even our neighbour delighted in the his beautiful blooms towering over the fence.

These were lilium bulbs that Dad gave Chris.  I sent Chris this photo when he was in Karratha so that he could see how his garden was growing in his absence.  He had lovely white and yellow varieties as well.  He wasn't against any flower and loved them all, though of course begonias and roses were his favourites.

One of my lovely memories of Chris and the kids digging carrots up in the veggie patch. The kids were covered in dirt but they loved it.

and of course there was always a little helper in the garden 

A beautiful rose from a beautiful man - a beautiful life of memories that as time goes by I hold dearer and dearer.  Thank you my darling, you certainly left a lot of good in this world.

Chris' Day

Today is Chris' Birthday. He would have been 62. 

Chris on his 21st Birthday *

Wasn't he gorgeous?

But he is not here to wish Happy Birthday to, so instead we will celebrate his life.  We will thank God over and over again for sharing 18 wonderful birthdays with Chris.  We will remember all the happy birthdays that we did share together.

We will celebrate the fact that he came into our lives and changed us all for the better.  (I like to think we reciprocated on that deal)  We will relish in the fact that he loved us and never tired of showing us how much. 

The last few weeks have been particularly rocky, hence no posts. We have another wedding to take joy in next weekend and I am praying that this is the start of a more settled time. 

A lot of things have changed in the two photos above.  As Chris said, he had an incredibly lucky, good life and right there is the proof of how lucky we both were.  

* photo courtesy of D. and C. Rossiter 

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.

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?