Blindsided

When all is said and done, where do I stand without you? Am I one entity myself? Or am I still intertwined with you somehow?

Where do the shadows take you? Where does the ash blow? If not for the wind and the passing of seasons would you still be here now?

Do these colours still reach you? Do they swirl and sway around you? Does the sky still burn brightly in your eyes or is all just dull and grey?

Can you hear the music playing? Can you hear me sing and dance? Does the melody call you and the tempo still pulse in your bones?

Do my whispers reach you? Do you hear me when I cry? Can you see that I need you to hold my hand and to make me smile?

Why can’t I rewrite history? Why can’t I challenge fate? Can I just go back and warn us all, make better use of time?

Still, here I sit without you. I’d stand but I’m too tired. I don’t think I’ll ever get it, I hope I never lose what’s left of you

But I’ll continue on, I promise. I’ll keep walking, step by step. I just wish I believed in an afterlife, so I didn’t feel it was all for nothing.

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It takes a village

Today was Mother’s Day. I guess at 9:40 pm I should say that today IS Mother’s Day. Either way, it is an event I have not really had to deal with for 14 years now, yet it always deals with me. Surely by now, I would be OK; it’s not her birthday, or anniversary, or even Christmas. I guess in ways I am, but it seems to always creep up and catch me by surprise. It’s so regular though, I wonder why the surprise still occurs. Still, I have spent the day trying to read for assignments, trawling social media and walking around my new favourite suburb, all the while wondering why I was so restless. Until a dear friend relayed the love, thoughts and encouragement of her parents, who I hold so dear. It’s then that it really hit me, and the lid slid on the big gaping hole in my life. But I want to make it clear that it is not the grief or the feeling of loss that defines me, it is more about the ability to acknowledge that loss and still exist.  Continue reading “It takes a village”

Spiralling down the Rabbit Hole…

 

jackson pollack rabbit hole
‘Rabbit Hole’ – Jackson Pollock

“Do it in Canberra,” they said. “It’ll be fine,” they said.

Once I had returned to Canberra after a time, it was decided I should be able to start getting some kind of treatment at the hospital there and avoid the costs and stresses to my family of having to travel to Sydney so regularly. Enter the lumbar puncture (if it was also a bone marrow aspirate I’ve blocked it out). I fasted….. And fasted…. And fasted. “They must be giving you gas” my mum concluded: Nope! Hours went by and I ended up on the table with NO ANAESTHETIC OF ANY KIND!!! She could hear me screaming. It was a rare thing to see her furious, but that’s what I saw that day. I still cannot watch such procedures on reality or fictional tv, nor talk of or hear about them without feeling a sharp ache in my hip and recoil from the revisited ‘ouch’ of the 14 gauge needle in my hip.

It seems odd to be able to say that, as excruciating as that moment was, nothing compares to the stabbing in your heart and soul when you lose your beloved mum. As a 21-year-old woman, I needed her as much then as I did as a kid. I needed her to teach me life skills, guide me through my choices as a young adult, vet all my boyfriends, hold my hand through pregnancy and meet her future grandchildren (turns out that one not so much for me). We were only just finding ourselves in that space where we could actually relate on a human, adult level. I had finally let go of the teenage angst and enjoyed her company as the fun, funny, intelligent, generous, golden-hearted woman she was. We had been through so much together, and I valued and loved her beyond words. Continue reading “Spiralling down the Rabbit Hole…”