Saturday 28 May 2016

Post Number 54 - Another Date for Remembrance


While just getting over one anniversary, another fast approaches.  Life has been moving along with incredible speed and my first semester at College came to an end before I knew it.  Assignments completed, in-class exams studied for and completed but still no time to breathe.  I still have one almighty exam to go and this subject has tormented me from day one.  I work so hard in trying to understand the content, in particular the infinite detail that we are supposed to understand, learn and remember.  With two assessments completed and only just passing, I need to pass this exam to ensure I am not forced to repeat the entire subject again.  So I keep my head down and focus and with only one week to go before the exam, the content is finally starting to make sense, but I am still a long way from remembering anything.

This week has been particularly difficult to stay on track.  Our old gas heater finally decided to give up and would no longer stay lit.  Then the drains started to block up.  Then a few nights ago, while I lay on the lounge just before heading to bed, I little mouse popped its head out of my bedroom, then ran back in.  I was horrified and I actually screamed like a little girl!  Repeatedly this mouse popped out before finally plucking up the courage to run across the lounge room floor, right in front of me.  By now my heart was thumping out of my chest as I sat up hugging my knees.  Mark and I had lived in this house for nearly 9 years and never had we a rodent in the house.  Sure there were many out in the garden and shed and we have caught and disposed of them in the past, but never in the house.  I was so totally freaked out, I couldn't move.

You might be laughing by now, thinking what is wrong with this strong and courageous woman?  Well it all dates back to a time in my 20’s.  I married young and was heavily involved in a Dog Obedience Club with my German shepherd.  We participated in competition obedience and every year there was a two-day competition at Port Pirie that everyone always looked forward to attending.  It was a time to all come together as a club, camp, sit around the fire, have a few drinks and have a good time as well as competing for two days.  So we excitedly signed up to attend.

As we travelled closer to our destination that weekend, the road seemed stained with something, but we couldn't work out what it was.  The closer we got, the more pronounced these markings on the road were.  Eventually we worked out, they were dead mice that had been run over.  "How strange", we thought. 

We arrived at the caravan park and setup our tent, cooked some dinner and set-up the camp fire.  As the sun started going down, we noticed the odd field mouse, but nothing to be concerned about.  We were in a country town, so that wasn't unexpected.  But the darker it became, the more alive the ground seemed to become.  Settled around the campfire enjoying the company, no one really noticed what was unfolding around us.  A trip to the toilets with torches soon showed a frenzy of mice everywhere you looked.


Everyone retired early due to the early start the next day and we zipped up our tent tightly, dog settled in the car, and zipped up our sleeping bags and went to sleep, foolishly thinking we were safe from the chaos outside.  Around 3am I awoke feeling something brushing up against my leg and my face.  I sat up and under moonlight I saw something running around the tent.  My torchlight confirmed, mice had chewed a hole in the tent and there were several now running around like crazy with no real intent or destination.  I watched my then husband try to get the mice out of the tent to no avail, so we spent the rest of the night in the safety of the car. 

It was such a long time ago and yet I remember every detail of that night, including the feeling against my skin.  It was a horrible experience that has obviously stamped a scare in me, as I had never feared mice before that weekend.

What I have discovered with grief, is how magnified things become.  Things that would ordinarily not cause a blink of an eyelid, now suddenly paralyse you.  A problem that you would ordinarily discuss with your partner is now your soul responsibility to sort out.  Do I try to get the old heater fixed or do I install the new heater I always wanted to?  If I spend this money, will I have enough for future problems or needs?  Do I risk baiting the mouse in case the dog finds the bait or eats the baited mouse?  What about the kitchen renovation that is still not finished? 

One of the many things the Grief Support Group has shown me is unconditional support without judgement and that alone is just one of the reasons I look forward to attending each month.  I hear countless grief stories as well as real life turmoil and never a judgemental word is spoken, only support, understanding and a safety to be as you are and be accepted for that.  Personally, I am as guilty as anyone for quick judgements.  All the time I look at what people put in their mouths or their shopping trolleys and I want to judge them for it.  But what do I know about that person?  What has brought them to this point in life?  Is it just plain ignorance or has there been other factors that influence their choices and their behaviours? 

We all deserve to be loved and accepted for who we are and I have only ever truly felt that from one person and he is no longer walking this earth.  I now know his spirit is with us and I have confirmation of this, but it is this feeling of unconditional love and contentment that I miss so much and yet feel so deeply when I spend time with others who have walked a similar path to mine.



Yesterday was Mark's Birthday.  He would have turned 39.  A year ago I managed to arrange a Birthday Party for him and it was a most joyous and momentous occasion.  But that was then and this is now.  I had dreams of making pasta with Sebastian and celebrating the event with one of our signature dishes, but the thought of even touching the pasta machine breaks me down.  Mark always lovingly made the pasta as I just didn't have the patience for it.  I would make the sauce and together we would make the most amazing meal filled with love.  But homemade pasta has not been in our kitchen for over a year now and I am still not ready to do that.  So Sebastian and I went to Windy Point Café for dinner instead.  It was a place we had visited many times for special occasions including Valentine’s Day and Father’s Day and I had always wanted to show Sebastian the night time view. 
But it was a cold, windy and rainy night and neither of us wanted to go out.  Sebastian complained and said he just wanted to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie.  I agreed wholeheartedly, but the booking was made and no other arrangements had been made for dinner, so we were committed.  We had a nice evening but it was so loud we could hardly hear each other speak.  The food was nice, but we ended up eating so much, we both felt uncomfortable.  I felt even more uncomfortable when I got the bill and wondered "was this really worth it?" Once home, we quickly tore off our fancy clothes and jumped into our PJ's.  It was already past Seb's bedtime, but neither of us cared.  We both just wanted to cuddle on the couch and watch something on TV.  And it was at that moment, that I was truly happy.  I could feel Mark with us and all was right with the world.  That 30 minutes of love and joy was the highlight of my day.
The reality is, Seb, Mum and I are alone together most of the time and we try to do things together when we can.  There are days were Mum and I hardly see each other, as I am in my office studying and she is in her room or in the kitchen.  But for now, that is how it will have to be, until this exam is over.  Tonight Seb and I made nachos and watched a movie, curled up together on the couch.  Sebastian cried when he went to bed.  He cried for the loss of his Dad and for the happiness and love that he feels for me.  It's true, when I think of how much I love my son, it brings me to tears too, for he is my life now, my connection to Mark and my true joy.

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