No greater compliment
Today I received the greatest compliment that maybe a writer can receive. Today had been one of those days where just another leaf of grief floated past me as I […]
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My mother’s journey
My journal of my mother dying
Twenty-eight days
Beware. This is a ‘journey’ post. Twenty-six days ago I was sitting in my psychologist’s office (not something I would have done, or admitted to a couple of years ago,
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2015 in review
It’s been a long time since I last posted. Life’s been a bit crazy, and there just didn’t seem like there was time, or energy to post here. But, as
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In print
It was such an exciting moment seeing my name in print, even if it is alongside 103 other writers (including Sian Prior). As my mate Tania Chandler, who just launched
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A suitable farewell
I am not sure I had realised how popular Mum was (and I am positive she didn’t either). The church at her funeral was packed and overflowing and there were
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Empty Space
There is so much to do, to catch up on, and so little motivation. I’ve had to resort to my daily to-do lists in my diary to try to encourage
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Peacefully sleeping
It’s hard to imagine that this woman, always so full of life, will not be here much longer. In such a short period of time Mum has gone from someone
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Cheated
It’s the odd little things that catch me: some middle-aged woman helping her old mum cross the road, a man sitting drinking coffee with his elderly mother, an elderly gentleman
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Don’t panic
I have really struggled with understanding what I need to write about this week. It seems much harder, which is probably a great reflection of the rollercoaster week it’s been.
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Playing statues
Today Mum is still like statue. She’s here but she’s not. Her body isn’t reading any signals to move and her face shows peace.
I dress her in her pretty shirt that she picked out, help her into a chair, put her tiny tub of Bircher muesli and cup of tea next to her and we both sit. Still. Like statues.
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How do you define one day from the next when you are dying
It’s a way we humans greet each other: How are you? And sometimes we care about the answer we give or receive, other times it’s like an entrée to the
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The odd one out
It’s hard feeling like the odd one out. I am an introvert in an extroverted family. I crave silence, and while I love to see my friends, I re-energise by
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Bittersweet news
Mum. She’s dying. Ever since Judy our dog died when I was Ms Brand’s class in Grade 4, I have known that death is there, and that it is okay.
