Generation of The Dead

Perkin's Paste. The ultrasound gel reeks of Perkin's Paste and instead of lying in a clinical and cold room being pummelled and poked, I am transported back to my childhood classroom.

And then quickly flung back into reality by a command to roll onto my side. I comment on the smell memory.

"A lot of people are telling me that!"

She is gentle and friendly chatting away whilst sending these signals to view my insides.

The thought comes to me as I lay there wondering what is appearing on her screen...

Is this how they felt? Is this how my roll call of dead friends thought whilst awaiting this prodding procedure to finish? Reassuring themselves that all would be well and it was mere paranoia sending the chill of unease to their very marrow?

I can no longer can ask them, can I? For they are gone. A roll call of people passed too soon, children motherless, fatherless, spouses lonely. so very, very many.

Are we a generation who by our very way of living have condemned ourselves to disease, death, illness, loss?

What have we done to ourselves?

A generation full of health issues, obesity, early demise...

Is this us?

Your Funeral of Choice - Eden's Fresh Horses Hop

Death. The final frontier... Sorry. should be more respectful and serious, shouldn't I?





Death. Something I have personally seen too much of not to be allowed some gallows humour.

~It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It's called living. ~(Terry Pratchett)~

Death. Whether you believe it is the end or merely another journey, it is hard to think about and deal with when you are the one left behind. I do not fear death, I fear leaving this life and those I love. I worry it may happen too soon, and my children will be left without their mother.

But that is not what this link is about. The question asked by Eden is:
 "Tell Me Your Funeral Song."

If my mother were alive my choice would be different, for I truly believe that funerals are for the living not the dead. It may be a celebration of someone's life, but it is for those attending and the memories they shared and need to be reminded of.

When we buried Wise Woman, the funeral director asked me if I wanted music played as the coffin was lowered into the grave.

I have mentioned this before, I am sure. For a moment there, a song flashed through my mind. The song my mother and I danced to like drunken marionettes around her lounge room. A song that was playing on the radio as I drove into her home only a few weeks before she became ill, a couple of months before we lost her. A song for which I cranked the car radio up full blare and rolled down all the windows. Her neighbours thought I was nuts, but she was laughing as I came in the door. A song of great joy, and wonderful memories full of laughter.

A song that my delicate, refined, gentile mother with her hidden, warped, ironic humour would have appreciated... fleetingly. (Appearances, MM, you are still my daughter and we must keep up the standards of decorum...)

Can you imagine the solemn faces changing, my elderly relatives gasp of horror, the minister's look of disbelief if belting out of the cd player, as her coffin slowly lowered was... wait for it...


"Working in a coal mine, going down down. Workin in a coal mine, whoops I mighta slipped now..." ?????


But, again, this is not about that, but my choices.
 
I want the biggest party. I want them to play "Back in Black" as the people walk in. I want them to play "Don't Worry, Be Happy" as my coffin is taken out.
 
I want there to be a big mothafucka screen on the wall where my pre-recorded message can be played.
 
And my first words...
 
 

 
 
"BOO! Well, that scared ya, didn't it?"
 
I want memories and joy, and laughter and tears...
 
and I want my boys to go: "That's our Mum... she was always a Madmother"
 
 
And I hope they are old, and I am older and have done all I need to keep them whole.
 
That is all.
 

The Rose and the End of The Year of Firsts.

This time a year ago I was sitting in a hospital next to the body of my mother. This time a year ago I was trying to say my final farewell to the woman who made me all I am.

I was wrong. She is not gone, she surrounds me every day.

Today is the end of the year of firsts.

Today I walked outside to see this:

Three months ago I bought this rose, two months ago we planted it. Today it bloomed in perfection.

She is around me and mine... this is merely one of her more blatant reminders to never forget.

I love you Mum.

R.I.P. Tony Dwyer

My sincere condolences to Lori and their two children. I have no words.

A tragic, terrible loss.

If you wish to light a candle for Tony, please follow this link. There are two groups running atm:

rrsah
and
rrshm

There is another small group under Tony, but I do not know if it is for Lori's Tony so I will not link it.

Sunshine Through the Clouds

The blog world is shadowed in pain at the moment. We are all vigilantly waiting, praying, hoping, caring, supporting Lori as best we can. Here, a never-ending parachute waiting to be released.

And then there is Lulu. Oh, my darling Lulu. She has always made me laugh, spread light into dark days. It was with a hand on my heart I read of her sudden, unexpected loss of her sister Amy. Oh God, words fail me. Because I have lived it. Different time, different lives, but the searing disbelief and pain are the same. Oh hell, the pain. And again, all we can do is be here on the end of the interweb, waiting, wanting to help in any way we can.

The hard bit. The waiting.

*Deep breath*

And so I have decided today to do a post about light breaking through the gloom. We all go on, as incredible and unlikely it seems at the time we are immersed neck deep in agony, we do. I did not think I could survive the loss of the last of my family, Wise Woman, my Mum. But I have. And am slowly crawling out of the hole of grief helped by my family and so many dear friends, irl and online.

I guess what I am trying to portray in this post is hope. Hope for the future whatever it may bring, faith that life will go on, conviction that no matter what, you will get through it.

We are amazing beings, us humans.

The Eulogy

I have been struggling terribly, procrastinating and putting it at the bottom of my list but this morning I have no choice. I have to write her eulogy.

A lovely friend (whose blog is private, so I will not post a link) has given me the start. She posted a poem for me on her blog and I am taking the beginning to start the eulogy with. Thanks Sal - you have no idea how much this means and has helped:

And I am no longer with you

Let no tears fall or sorrow prevail

When you see your reflection shimmer in the water

Smile and know that I see your smile

When you feel the cool grass beneath your feet

And the sun's warmth upon your back

Know that I feel it also

When you hear the leaves rustling in the wind

Know it is my voice softly whispering to you

And so now I am going to go off into a corner, and sit and try to bring to life a wonderful woman for many who have never had the joy of meeting her, and only know her through my words. I am blessed to have so many beautiful souls in my life who are attending to support me, and because they feel they know her via myself and the boys. Some family is flying in but most are elderly and frail themselves, as are her old friends from our home town. But I have had long, lovely phone conversations with many and know we are in their hearts and prayers.

I must admit the only thing that has disappointed me is the resonant silence from one who proclaimed to be a friend. But I guess this is the time that people's true colours are revealed and I am better off knowing.

Today

I am an orphan. Today I am planning my mother's funeral. Today I face life in a very new and scary world without my biggest support.

We lost her at 3.30am 21/10/10. Like everything, she chose her own way to leave the world, and her own time. The doctors' thought it would be days and I stupidly went home late the night before planning on returning before sun-up in the morning. But she beat me to it. At 4am another of those dreadful calls came through, and as soon as it woke me I knew.

She was quite coherent until the end, had made her wishes more than clear. Tired, in pain, and finished with life. Gave the doctors strict instructions on a DNR. Expressed her gratitude to me for not denying her the right to choose death. Yesterday a dear friend reminded me: "Just like your grandmother chose to leave." And she was right. Strong stock these Madmother women.

Wise Woman asked to say goodbye to Boy 1 and Boy 2, which was another reason I chose to leave. Even though she had been in hospital nearly two months they honestly thought Nanna would bounce back, after all she always had in their lifetime. They cried, told her they loved her, thanked her for being there and everything she had ever done for them. She left them in no doubt as to how she felt about them, they had given her reason to breathe for the last decade or so, without them she may well have chosen this path earlier believing her work to be done.

"But why is she dying? what is she dying of?" Boy 2 cried. How do you explain to an 11 year old about choosing death. As bright as he is the choice was simple: you love me, why leave me?

I spoke to him as clearly as I could get my mind around it (and I must admit there was a little girl inside me screaming the same thing)... "Nanna is frail, the pain is too much and her tired body is worn out. She has lived a wonderful, happy life and does not want the end of her life to be full of misery and anguish. It is her choice and as WE love her we need to let her know it is okay and we understand."

Driving home from the hospital, after much thought he states: "I am really sad, but inside me is a little part rejoicing for her."  God, these children, they amaze me and give me strength to go on.
Boy 1 was quiet, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. Once home he asked me: "How do I go on without someone who has helped me all my life. How do I get used to her not being there?" I could not answer straight away for I too feel the same.
I must face life without her, knowing that the one person who saw me warts and all, who loved me no matter what, and who was my biggest safety net when I fell, is gone. Not in my heart but in my physical world. No more can I ring her to laugh over something, no more can I seek her wise counsel when the angry world confuses me. No more can I drop in unannounced, giving her last minute warning with a "tooot toooot" at the door.

I am hurting, and yet grateful. To have had Wise Woman in my life for so long is an incredible blessing. To be raised by such a woman, well, words fail me.

Mum, I love you, I will always love you and hold you in my heart. I promise to do you proud.

Wise Woman

5/10/1919 - 21/10/2010



daughter of an incredible woman.

FYBF - In The Wee Hours of The Night

The Rules are here. She says it so much better than I ever could.

I know Flog Yo Blog Friday is meant to be funny and lighthearted but I just don't have any humour inside me at the moment. Life is challenging, but even worse when you add sleep-deprivation into the equation.

I woke with heart pounding, gasping for breath at 1am. Up until now there have been sleep issues, but not as severe as this nightmare induced panic attack in the cold of just past midnight. I dreamt of her. I dreamt she was dying. My thoughts were of her struggling to breathe, each rasping, painful breath slower than the last.

The terrifying thing is that this is not so far from the truth for now Wise Woman has a chest infection and we all know how susceptible the elderly are to pneumonia. Add in her emphysema and we have serious issues.

I have been coping well, running on pure adrenalin as Ro said, but am I dealing with the thought of losing her? I don't know. It is a very real risk right now. She will be 91 on Tuesday, every little health problem erodes her already frail grasp on life, and I know she does not wish to be here with no quality of existance. Death comes to us all and logically I know at her age I should be very grateful to have had her in my life with so much joy in hers for so long.

But humans are not only logical creatures, we are emotional beings and I want to know how on earth I get my head and heart around losing someone who created me. Not in life (as we all know I am adopted), but by moulding my very core to be who I am. How do I ever reconcile myself to letting go to the one person who loves me unconditionally. How do I say goodbye to my mother?

This may not be it. I hope and pray the miracle woman floors the professionals one more time and fights back to quality of life. But it will be one day. And I do not know if I can face it. Ever.

Reality 101

Our phone rang at 6.15am. It was my cousin, the one I am very close to, the one I speak with weekly especially as her parents have declined in health. My wonderful, loving uncle passed away this morning. Talk about the universe giving a proverbial slap in the face, whilst I have allowed myself to be beaten down by this campaign of hate, he has been fighting cancer. We knew it was coming, but it is still heartbreaking when it actually happens. I wrote of him here. After the initial dire prognosis he had rallied, and remained in his own home until very recently. We saw both him and my Aunt in January, at home, happy.

Of course, once he was in the nursing home and they processed his diagnosis, the morphine was pumped in. Now, after not getting much sense from my heartbroken cousin, I sit and wonder what took his life. The cancer that had seemed to slow incredibly, or the morphine they administer so forcefully.

RIP Uncle Darleigh, you were well loved and will be truly missed. Say hello to the old bugger for me, I'm sure he'll be at the gate waiting.

Now I must organise my final journey to see him. I do not know how my Aunt will go on without him, they lived for each other.

The Great Fraud

Big boy had friends over last night. We had cancelled it early in the week, before this nightmare from which I want to wake hit, but then two of the boys had complained of their disappointment, and he relented. In truth, he really needed this night. Watching your wife unravel is not an easy thing.

And so there were four. One was his builder mate from a bit away, and so they decided he was to crash here for the night. The other two I was to ferry home if required. It all sounded okay. I was still balancing precariously on the edge but had managed not to let the two little men staying over on the previous night get any inkling of the upheaval contained within. I just didn't interact with them as much as usual and let Big Boy check on them all. All looks good at a distance.

I had a bad moment as we headed to drop off Boy 2's friend. His mother had spoken to me the night before and could hear the panic and fear I was trying to hold in. She told me she could hear me shaking over the phone, dear Lord, was I that bad? She is the only one who has taken a stand after Big Boy let her know what the week had played out as. I did not want anyone to know, my paranoia is such that I am convinced people will point and say: "See, just like they said, she is delusional, she is the one who has started all this..." and no matter how much I proclaim my innocence I will still be seen as the antagoniser and they as the victims.

As we rounded the corner to head down her road my palms were sweating and I could not breath. I asked BB to drop me off at the corner shop, but changed my mind when I saw how very crowded it was. Crowds would undo me. And so, with my fingernails digging into the soft tissue of my hands we pulled into their driveway. I should have trusted her. After a quick hug the conversation remained light, friendly, non-threatening emotionally. We left with a smile, me feeling a huge amount of relief at not falling apart, and BB happy to have heard me laugh.

And so we headed into the evening, me thinking, "Hey, this I can do!" BB has a quick rest as I go to clean up for our guests. I am such a fool, the tiny thread begins to unravel when sorting laundry. I panic. I put a shirt in the wrong pile, and my boys walk in to see me shaking, crying, muttering "wrong pile, wrong pile" over and over. Boy 2 goes to get Dad, and oh God, my big son, my glorious boy who himself is facing so many demons, my Boy 1 puts his arms around me and comforts me, patting my back as I have done for him so many times. He soothes me,"It's alright Mum, we will help you, I will take away the stress, I love you, you are the best Mum, let us help..." Oh Christ, he steps up when unexpected and shows me what a truly precious soul is contained within all that turmoil. He consoles me until the shaking stops, and we both sort the rest of the laundry with him touching me, stroking my hair, reassuring me with little strokes of love.
A friend rang, concerned over reading this blog. I could not speak to her, I knew it would take away any chance of me pulling off this act for the night. I know you are reading my friend, and I am sorry, but the hold is too tenuous and my brief conversation on Friday night with another who cares like you, showed me that. It hurts and is too raw when the dam gates open.

Nobody knew last night, not one crack in the facade appeared as I briefly flitted in and out. I was the waitress, keeping out of the poker play, dropping food in, leaving quickly. I figured if my taxi service was needed I would be so exhausted by the early hours of the morning my quietness would be missed by my tipsy passengers. I prayed it would be so. At 1am big Boy comes upstairs to let me know I was not required, someone was sensible enough to drink lightly and thus drive himself and his friend home safely.

I slept fitfully from that point, but awoke this morning in sheer panic. I knew I could not face our other friend, no matter that he was not a local nor involved in any way shape or form with the dramas in my life. My act last night had cost me dearly, and I stood in the shower sobbing, shaking, struggling not to throw up.

Is this to be my punishment? Am I, the most social creature, to lose my ability to be around any other person? I am sure our friend accepted Big Boy's explanation of a migraine. I hope he did, for I would hate to hurt him. I just could not face him and make conversation, the thought makes me feel physically sick even now. God, I hate them so much for what they have done.

And as I know they read this from the horrible comments made to others, I hope you are happy. But as I have nothing to lose do not expect me to be civilised, that veneer has been cruelly stripped by your actions over the last nine months of hell. Not to mention the six months before that as the stalker ramped up her possessive efforts. I no longer care if anyone believes me, I have nothing to lose. You are such a pair of fools, I would not have betrayed your confidences even though you thought otherwise. But now, now I could not give a damn who knows. And I no longer have the emotional reserves to care if others are hurt.

Muse Wars Challenge 6 - The Sunset

Originally started by Melissa @ The Things I'd Tell You, the Muse Wars continued with the 2nd challenge set by Tanya(me) @ Meaninless Meandering From a Madmother, and the 3rd by Kakka @ Menopausal Mumma, the 4th challenge by Lori @ Random Ramblings of a SAHM, and the 5th challenge by Gemma @ sometimes you just need to vent.


 The first person to link their story to this post  @ Menopausal Mumma, will win the right to choose the next photo and set Challenge 7.


Are you up for it? Anyone can join in, you just need to write a story as your interpretation of the photo in around 500 words (although this limit was removed by Melissa in the first challenge so it is merely a suggestion).
 
 "Can Mummy see us too, Daddy?"  "Yes Tim, I think Mummy can see us too." "Pink is her very favourite, isn't it Daddy." "Yes son, I think God may have given her a pink sunset specially because she loves it so much." "God is nice isn't he Daddy. I think I will like Heaven."

Gerard took a deep breath, bracing himself for the next onslaught. This was a lot harder than he had ever imagined, and he had thought it through on so many sleepless nights. The innocence and unconditional love of this child swelled his bruised heart, giving him strength to go on. The summer breeze playfully tugged at their identical close-cropped brown curls.

"Daddy?"
"Yes son."
"Do you think God knows who I am?"
"I think God knows exactly who you are Tim."
"That's good. God must have a very good memory to know everybody musn't he Daddy. Daddy?"
"Yes Tim."
"Does God know Mummy is my Mum?"
"Oh Tim, of course God knows she is your Mum. Don't you have the exact same green eyes and big smile?"
"Do you think Mummy is smiling now Daddy? Right now?"
"I don't know Tim, I hope so."
Finally his son runs out of constant questions. They stand together in synchronised silence watching the spectacular sunset, waves quietly lapping around ankles, wet sand squishing underfoot. The light slowly begins to fade as God's afternoon sky display draws to a close.

Gerard turns to his child in the dim evening glow. "Time to go, eh Tim?"

"Do we have to Dad?"

"Show is over matey, we better head back."

"TIM! GERARD!"
A tiny figure frantically waves from the top of the beach near the carpark. The calls grow louder and louder as the distant figure rips off their shoes and begins to run down to the water.

"TIM...GERARD!"
They squint, unable to make out the face clearly, they both begin to wave frantically.

"TIMGERARD" All three run, heading to each other from opposite directions.


"Mummy!" Gerard stands back allowing his son to leap into his mother's arms. Tina smiles over their child's shoulder, his small arms clenched around her neck.
"Did you see the sunset Mummy? Did you see it from the doctors? It was for you, full of pink from God."
"I saw it from the window Tim. It was beautiful. A happy pink sky."

Gerard gazes questioningly into the sparkling green eyes of the mother of his child.

"A happy pink sky?"

"Yes. A happy pregnant pink sky. A girl baby sky, maybe?" Gerard joins in the embrace, encircling his wife and child in strong arms. After so many failed attempts over the last six years, they had given up hope. This, this, was an unexpected blessing from God. A bolt from the blue.  A happy pink girl sky, he thought, I can deal with that. I can definitely deal with that.

To Lose A Child

A parent's worst nightmare. Sadly, this morning I learnt of the death of beautiful Olivia, a little girl full of smiles, sunshine and hope, lost in a tragic car accident. News report is here.  I first learnt of it from Sally, which in turn led me to Kate's blog as I just could not believe it was true. I watched her slideshow of all the kids, and my heart broke. Having lived through the loss of a sibling, my only sister, I cannot even come close to comprehending the pain of such a terrible tragedy. I once asked my Mother (Wise Woman 1) how she survived such a devastating loss and as I did not think I could survive or keep my sanity if I lost one of my children. Her answer was "I had to. For you."

In a perfect world this would never have happened, a family should not have to deal with this ever. But it is the real world, and as much as life and love is a part of our existence so is death and grief.



RIP Olivia. You have touched many hearts in your decade of life.

A very sad 

The Fragile Hold we have on Life

Recently I have been forcibly reminded again of how very fragile life is. A member of a parenting website I have frequented for the last 3 years awoke to find her husband deceased beside her. How on earth can I put into words what a truly devastating, tragic loss this must be? It is not the first. In fact only a week before a young Mum lost her life to an embolism. In the last 12 months two other mums lost their partners under equally as tragic circumstances. One to senseless violence, the other to the farce we call our health system. All gone in the blink of an eye. It could so easily be any of us.

The latest heartbreaking loss was to sleep apnoea, something most treat lightly unaware it can have tragic consequences. One of my close friends in real life suffered an almost identical loss. She awoke to find her otherwise fit 30 something husband lying passed away beside her. Their youngest child was 15 months old, their two daughters were 3 and 4. Sleep apnoea. Snoring. A silent killer, creator of widows and fatherless children.

Today I look at my husband through different eyes. How would I go on without him? He is my rock, my soulmate, the one person I have ever yearned to grow old with. He loves me, flaws and all. And I love him. He is the most incredible father to our 2 boys, and so wonderful with our oldest special child. But like many, I am guilty of taking him for granted. This is not the first time life has booted me up the arse as a wake up call, and yet we seem to drift slowly back into old habits and learn nothing.

Somewhere in Western Australia there is a woman mourning. She will never have the chance to say what was unsaid, to hold her husband close, to laugh and love and live their life. NEVER.

I do not know what my point is here. Maybe it is just hold your loved ones close, tell them all you have been meaning to, stop doing the cleaning/cooking/washing and go sit in the sun and listen to your children's laughter. And when your husband is home, or when you get home, look into his eyes and speak from your heart. Because we are never guaranteed a tomorrow.