Just another F word..

For goodness sake what a funny old day I have had. I had this blog all planned at 3am this morning. No scattered thoughts. Just a clear direction. However, my mind is a mysterious place at the best of times. Two weeks before the 2nd anniversay of Shelley's death, it is even slightly stranger.

Our home is a beautiful place. On the banks of an estuary, (the Whau) near Auckland. As I wandered around here this morning I was taken into a quiet place of thought about the weather. Nature is a great grounding force for me. I often take off to the wild black sand beaches on our West Coast to be revitalised by the enormity of nature and the insignificance of myself. It somehow takes away my fury, sitting, pacing, yelling at the stroppy waves as they crash and disappear, crash and disappear. I return home more at peace within myself which is a good thing.

My 3am inspiration was to talk about F words. Forgiveness in particular. I will get to that shortly. The weather has taken me over.

Freezing. It is very cold this winter morning. Around 6 degrees. The sun has started its climb into the crisp air and is just visible about the Whau. So it will be a pleasant enough day with just enough chill in the air so that we don't take the sunshine for granted. Preparations are already in hand to set the fire towards the end of the day, to generate our own warmth indoors.

I love this visible change of season. It reminds me of my childhood in the South Island where the temperatures are far more extreme and the seasons more defined. Where Autumn is more spectacular with glorious displays of multi-coloured trees in various stage of undress as the leaves are slowly shed. As a child on my way to kindergarten with my mother, I used to laugh and squeal at the naked trees which I nicknamed "nuddy"all of them. There wasn't a plural just "nuddy". I would search the rows of trees on our walk until I found the ones striped bare.

Snow covers the Southern Alps and occasionally strays into the bigger cities like Christchurch and Dunedin ensuring the occasional day off school for the kids as the roads are trecherous. It never snows in Auckland and we tend to feel somewhat smug when we view the temperatures for the country which show minus figures for the lower half of the South Island with highs of 8 degrees or similar. Our average high would be nearer 13 to 15 degrees. Nice but it comes at the expense of the seasonal showcase.

Forgiveness was the F word I intended to start with but then I digressed. Much has been written and commented on about forgiveness. Some hold it up as a badge to be earned on the way to the recovery of your soul. A requirement to your own sanity when you have experienced murder and mayhem at the hands of others.

For me, it doesn't come into the equation. I don't feel the need nor the desire to forgive the murderous bombers who took Shelley's life, along with 51 other good people. I am equally sure they would not seek nor require my forgiveness. They believe they have committed a glorious deed. They knew if all went to plan, that the morning of the 7.7.05 would be their last morning. They hoped to take as many innocent people with them.

The dead and injured had no forewarning. Only the grim reality of the aftermath of the bombs. The survivors haunted by the images, the human carnage and destruction they witnessed. They were thrown headlong into scenes they will never forget and scenes the rest of us can only imagine. They all pay an ongoing price, whether physical and/or emotional scars. The degree of either varying from person to person but it is something they all must now carry throughout their lives. Just as the families and friends of the dead have to learn how to live their lives without their loved ones.

Neither task is easy.

Forgiveness in my opinion, is over rated. I choose to draw on all my strength and the strength of all my forbears and Shelley, to learn how to live my life without Shelley here with me. I define my actions as Positive Dismissal and view this as taking affirmative action in an attempt to get on with the remainder of my life. I have no place in my heart, mind or soul for the evil deeds of evil and misguided persons. Places there, are reserved only for those good souls in my life, my nearest and dearest, my family and friends.

I don't think I am any less of a person for not being able to forgive the unforgiveable.

This processs of grieving is extraordinary. It is painful, cyclical and neverending. Every day of my life is now one without Shelley. This is my life sentence.

This time in 2005 Shelley had just been to Glastonbury, sent me funny emails about it. How muddy it was, how pleased she and her friend were having had the foresight to cart gumboots with them on the stiffling hot journey on the train. There is a photo of her laughing in a huge muddy field at the festival, safe with dry feet in her gumboots. Today's NZ paper tells the tale of Glastonbury being almost flooded out again. It is deja vu and I am caught in a place of altered reality thinking, ah well maybe she is there and will tell me all about it. And we will laugh.

It is almost as if it (the bombing) hasn't happened yet. It is still coming but I can predict the future now. On the 7th July it will be here.

I need to embrace family and friends. F... forgiveness.

Futility. This afternoon I attended the blessing and closing of a mental health facility. My hb (life partner), is a team leader for that particular facility which has operated under impending closure for the past two years.

Elected Health Board representatives have decreed it must close even though it is one of the top performing specialist units of its type. The only one of its type.

The ceremony was beautifully managed in tandem with the local tangata whenua (representatives of the local Maori tribe). The house was honoured, as were all the past and current clients and staff. As were all our ancestors. A moving ceremony walking from room to room addressing each place with love and respect, allowing anyone who wanted to speak to say their truth. The final part was to physically leave the house and close the door. It was an extraordinarily moving ceremony, open to people's anger, tears, appreciation and frustration at the stupidity of such an ending. The sincerity and depth of feeling was evident in all the tears that were shed.

It was a wonderful example of Maori and Pakeha working together with respect and love. I was honoured and humbled to bear witness.

It would not be surprising, now that is is closed, that the powers that be will suddenly realise that they really should try and set up exactly this type of service!!

Foolish my final F word. Our politicians have decided that the television press cannot film them being silly!!! A clip of one MP giving the fingers to another while speaking in Parliament was shown on TV. Instead of addressing the juvenile behaviour of the politicians involved, whose salaries we all pay, the remedy has been to ban televising images of any such behaviour. The MPs state that is not appropriate to show them in satirical or irreverent poses!! Huh!

There is one upside to all this. All future coverage of MPs and their behaviour will be severely limited as they seem incapable of taking their jobs seriously and acting like mature representatives of the few people that elected them. The other good news is the ban doesn't start until 17th July so you might guess the press is having a field day in the meantime. And the MP's sure do look silly!! Update: there has been such an outcry from the Press Gallery that Parliament is having a rethink. Now that's not silly. Click on link to see silly video!!

www.tv3.co.nz/VideoBrowseAll/PoliticsVideo/tabid/370/articleID/29654/Default.aspx#video

Finally Farewell for now,

KG

Breathing Fire

I am beathing fire, like my dragon Chinese star sign. I have taken the step of creating this blogsite. I am not sure it is a wise move, but it has been on my mind for some weeks now.

I have been spurred on by reading the wonderful work of Rachel North http://www.rachelnorthlondon.blogspot.com/ whom I have had the pleasure of meeting. I am quite technically inadequate so this is quite scary!!! I think I have control over what goes in here but am not fully convinced I will not make a huge cockup and you will all be able to read my mind or see my bank account, (Much good will it do you!!! There is no money in the account and you will not emerge for weeks, even years in you sink into the soakhole of my mind!! So read on at your own risk.!)

How I came to meet Rachel is, in itself a story of actions and words. Rachel was on the tube on 7/7/2005. So was my daughter Shelley. Shelley died as a result of the "actions" of the bloody-minded and murderously intentioned bombers. I guess they thought they would teach us all a lesson, of what nature, I am not sure.

What I have experienced since Shelley's murder has been the beauty of words and the beauty of actions. I have been overwhelmed by the huge outpouring of love and support worldwide. In her lifetime Shelley had an impact on many people here in NZ and around the world. That so many of these poeple still take the time to text me or email is absolutely a tribute to their good souls and to Shelley's ability to be a wonderful friend, colleague and citizen of the world. Shelley's friends worldwide contributed to a beautiful memorial park bench in Russell Square.

So if you happen to be in London and walking through Russell Square - maybe you will choose to stop and visit awhile with Shelley. The park bench is on the side by the Night n Day bar, a frequent and happy hangout of Shelley and her friends, and I too was a frequent visitor on both excursions to London.

I have used written words when unable to speak of the depths of my sorrow and grief. I have turned those words into a book in honour of Shelley called, "Dear Shelley". http://www.womensbookshop.co.nz/ There is also some further information on the website Shelley's dad set up, http://www.shelleymariemather.com/

The poems are the story or my journey to London in July 2005 with Shelley's dad, to find our darling baby. To bring her home. It is the story of the amazing people we met and the love and strength we have all drawn from each other. It is a tribute to my partner, sons and extended family, friends and strangers who took the time to send "words" of love and support.

I have felt further driven to start a blog as the 2nd anniversay of the 7/7 bombings nears. We returned last year for the first anniversary services but will not be there this year until September. At the time of the bombings the news was huge in NZ. Shelley was the only NZ'er to die. The press were hungry for her name, before we were ready to give it. Last year there was some interest and my return journey and reading of one of my poems "The Moon" , at Regent's Park was covered by press and TV.

Time is a funny thing. There have been many more sad stories, more murders of NZ'ers at home by family members and strangers and abroad by random people. I know we are only one family with one death but each family's death is horriffic and always uppermost to them. So you could excuse my initial interest yesterday when I spotted the following headline in the national Sunday paper - "07-07-07 Auspicious date ", that's where my eyes stopped. The rest of the headline was - "booked out for weddings". The story was about the disproportionate number of people opting to get married on this date which apparently has some mathematical good luck charm to it.

Well excuse me and the other 51 familes and 700 survivors who might find this somewhat ironic.

But hey, the world moves on as do we all. Just differently I guess. I sincerely hope it is a good luck date for the soon to be newlyweds. I know for me and hundreds of other people it is a date that will not be forgotten for a different reason.Words make it or break it I guess. The hunger of the press for the word, for the insight into the pain and the grief followed now, two years later, by a deafening silence. By finding another relevance to that date.

And hey, I used to be funny so I will promise not be depressive all the time.

It's true, I used to be funny. In May 2005 I was in the semi-finals for the Auckland-wide search for new standup comedy talent. One of the last messages I got from Shelley after she heard of this great feat, was a voicemail message on my phone saying, "I always knew you were a funny mummy." That is so loaded and open to intepretation and I just laughed for about half an hour. That's what we did. Shelley and me. We laughed, we cried, we locked horns occasionally but most of all we loved. We loved the madness of our family, her family.

So if you have happened upon this site, welcome to the ravings of a mad woman. I wish you well and you can be sure of occassional thoughts from the Southern Hemisphere on any number of topics.

For a first post....maybe it's not too bad!! So I shall push the Publish button..yikes!!

Arohanui

KG