I have finally moved forward with financial decisions and I now know that I cannot sell this house no matter how much upkeep it takes. When Mark was here, I was always wanting to go out, go away on holidays or short trips, but now, I just want to be home. I feel at peace here, even when I study, I look out the window into the garden and I see the butterflies fluttering around the lavender bush and I feel some sort of comfort from that.
I studied hard for a very difficult Nutritional Biochemistry exam, a subject so difficult, the entire class seems dumbfounded by its contents. When I questioned the lecturer on various conflicts and easily misinterpreted information, she remarked "you don't need to get an 'A' to pass this subject!" And while I still don't know if I passed, I do know that I did everything in my power to learn for this exam, and there was nothing more that I could have done to get a better result.
Sebastian continues to be the bundle of joy he has always been with night time still being the hardest time of the day. But never does he give me any trouble when I tell him it's time for bed or that I need help with breakfast because we are running late. He rarely talks back or gives me attitude, but rather clings to me for comfort in his times of need. Last week as he lay sobbing in his bed while hugging his special Teddy, he asked me why I don't cry anymore. I looked at him and smiled. "Honey, when I am with you, I have no need to cry. You make me so very happy and I see your Dad in you every day. When I am with you, I am with him, so I can't cry. But when you go to school or to bed at night, I am all alone and then I cry, because then I feel sad, lonely and afraid. But when I am with you sweetheart, my heart is full." He understands now that crying is necessary and a good thing and he feels he can do this now without me. His independence and organisation skills is staggering and I ooze the proudness of two parents.
Last week he attended the long awaited "Star Bear Camp", run by Anglicare for children aged 5-12 who have lost a close family member, most of which are a parent. I did little to raise his expectations for this camp as I knew there would be much discussion over the loss of his father and I worried how he would handle this delicate subject without me. We attended a pre-camp meeting where the parents could meet and the children could hang out and play games. Unbelievably, out of around 12 families, three of us had experienced Brain Cancer! Then late Friday afternoon, after a long day at school and half a tennis lesson, I took him to the drop-off location where he would meet up with his mentor, meet Star Bear himself, board the bus and head for the hills, or at least, the first hill up the freeway (Crafers).
Leaving him in the care of strangers was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but I knew that it was necessary for his own self development and grief journey. He boarded that bus with such maturity, I was blown away. I kept waiting for him to run out the bus and say "no I can't do this" as many others did, but the doors of the bus closed quickly, as many children cried and screamed for their one existing parent, but my young man sat and in the back of that bus, smiling and waving as they drove off. I put on a brave face and smiled and waved back and once I knew the bus was gone, I ran to my car and sobbed.
Although I had had a wonderful evening in the city with a close friend that night, sleep did not come easily, no matter how tired and shattered I was. All my normal routines failed and I awoke the next morning feeling like that bus had run over my heart. There is no contact from the camp, no calls to say "all is well" or a text to say "he is fine and asleep". I did my best not to worry, but you can't take the mother out of a mother.
As Sunday morning came, I was feeling a little better as I had taken one of my Mum's sleeping tablets, ensuring a much better night's sleep, albeit still not completely enough. We decided on a much shorter beach walk at Glenelg, so that I could get home earlier as I was due to be at the camp at Noon to have lunch with "the campers" and attend the balloon release ceremony at 1pm. When I arrived, I found him sitting at one of the outdoor tables with his mentor, filling out an evaluation form. He looked up and smiled,
red faced and full of stories to tell. He didn't jump off the seat and come running, just looked up, smiled and continued with his current task. Once complete, he told story after story about making his memory box, challenge hill, the night walk and the three other young boys who shared his room, who had also lost their Dads.I spoke with his mentor for a while as he ran around bouncing a basketball and blowing bubbles. He was so happy, so comfortable, so relaxed, it was truly beautiful to see. Lunch, balloon release, piñata and certificate ceremony complete, we were finally able to head home. There were many really tired young bodies and I told Sebastian to close his eyes and have a little rest for the drive home. While he did do that, he didn't fall asleep and was ready to play Skylanders as soon as we arrived home. And play we did once the bags were unpacked and we had had a half hour laydown as I felt more tired than he did!
The weekend was a success and although he isn't really any different (not that I was expecting him to be), I know, these experiences he has had have been priceless, and future opportunities to meet with these children at bi-monthly get togethers, will continue to strengthen his spirit and his feelings of not being the "only one" feeling sad about losing his Dad and feeling ok about being happy.
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