This is so bloody funny, I have laughed for days and told everyone I know about it. I used to watch Eddie Izzard on the tele ages ago. He is sooooooooo funny.
Enjoy.
KG
XX
1 Jun 2008
Eddie Izzard- Death Star Canteen Sketch
June Musings
June has arrived. It is my birthday month and I am giving myself some days off around the day. My best friend and I are the same age. We have been friends since we were 15 years old. That is a long time ago now. I was commiserating with her on our upcoming age, and was delighted when she abused me and told me we were actually a year younger than I thought!! Good news and I can’t believe I was so surprised. Dumbarse.
I am four years older than my dad when he died, thirty years older than dear Shelley. I would swap, in the blink of an eye, my time to give to her. I cannot do that and as I reflect on my life so far, I have much to be grateful for. Apart, is such a small word with a huge meaning for me. Apart for Shelley’s death, I am satisfied and grateful for my life as it is. I wish apart was not part of it at all.
(I think I will get myself another tattoo for my birthday. I have three already, one after my mother died, and two magnificent ones for Shelley. My next one will be something small that means strength to me, and honours my survival so far.)
I don’t wish I was any younger. I am at a place I enjoy, as much as I can, the people and things in my life. It is a good place to be, as good as it can be. The ever-gaping hole in my heart is no longer an enemy. It just is. There is something every day, which causes me to think of my darling daughter. It may be a young girl passing through the screening point at the airport, off on her OE or a mother with a young baby. One young woman had been crying and was still visibly upset when she came through to me. She said she was sad leaving her family but was excited and just had to do it. I encouraged her, all the time fighting off the desire to tell her not to go, to go back to her family. Instead I wished her well and hoped, more than anything that she would head off, enjoy her time and return safely to her family. That is what I want for everyone.
I have finished the house, deck and fence painting. Yay!! It looks bloody good, even if I do say so myself. I am now about to start doing a few things in the garden. A bit of spring cleaning and replanting. Then, this low maintenance home, (huh I sure was sucked in by that phrase!), should indeed be low maintenance. I will then have time to get stuck into my writing. I need time and peace to do that and it is almost here.
The writing process is a way of getting lost in my thoughts and feelings and of having some control over things. I control the words and the meaning for me, and hope that it all may mean something to others. In the end, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t but I am encouraged by people that tell me they get something out of my humble efforts. That pleases me.
I have another dear friend, K, whose beloved son died a few months before Shelley. His death was long and slow, the result of an incredibly rare disease that wastes away your bones, (only 200 people in the world have had this). He was 18years old. Her family nursed him at home for the last seven months of his life. I admire her courageousness. She rang me a little while after Shelley’s death and has been one of my strongest bonds and inspirations since.
Together our grief is outrageous, if it was colours, it would be black and blue and deep purple. But it is magnificent to be able to be so bold and loud and unreasonable about the death of our children. She says that I help her and she sure as hell helps me, tremendously. We talk about the different deaths, one with time to talk and nurture, one without. One is no better than the other. I can’t imagine how she managed all those months, knowing what the outcome would be; she can’t imagine the brutality, shock and horror of the murderous death. We laugh too, which may surprise you, but we do. At outrageous things. The poor check out chick who says, “Have a nice day,” and you want to, or do explode, saying how the hell can I have a nice day my child is dead. It is so raw and wild and we understand each other.
It is wonderful to be able to talk to each other, no holds barred and say what we think and feel. We mutter about people muttering on about time is great healer. Bullshit, we say, it doesn’t change a thing. Perhaps the healing does increase and you can be again able, to take some joy from life, from your other children and your family. But the wound is as fresh today as if was the 7th July for me, and her son's death date for her. It will be so every day we draw breath.
This is for Ben and Shelley and their ever loving Mums and families.
I am four years older than my dad when he died, thirty years older than dear Shelley. I would swap, in the blink of an eye, my time to give to her. I cannot do that and as I reflect on my life so far, I have much to be grateful for. Apart, is such a small word with a huge meaning for me. Apart for Shelley’s death, I am satisfied and grateful for my life as it is. I wish apart was not part of it at all.
(I think I will get myself another tattoo for my birthday. I have three already, one after my mother died, and two magnificent ones for Shelley. My next one will be something small that means strength to me, and honours my survival so far.)
I don’t wish I was any younger. I am at a place I enjoy, as much as I can, the people and things in my life. It is a good place to be, as good as it can be. The ever-gaping hole in my heart is no longer an enemy. It just is. There is something every day, which causes me to think of my darling daughter. It may be a young girl passing through the screening point at the airport, off on her OE or a mother with a young baby. One young woman had been crying and was still visibly upset when she came through to me. She said she was sad leaving her family but was excited and just had to do it. I encouraged her, all the time fighting off the desire to tell her not to go, to go back to her family. Instead I wished her well and hoped, more than anything that she would head off, enjoy her time and return safely to her family. That is what I want for everyone.
I have finished the house, deck and fence painting. Yay!! It looks bloody good, even if I do say so myself. I am now about to start doing a few things in the garden. A bit of spring cleaning and replanting. Then, this low maintenance home, (huh I sure was sucked in by that phrase!), should indeed be low maintenance. I will then have time to get stuck into my writing. I need time and peace to do that and it is almost here.
The writing process is a way of getting lost in my thoughts and feelings and of having some control over things. I control the words and the meaning for me, and hope that it all may mean something to others. In the end, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t but I am encouraged by people that tell me they get something out of my humble efforts. That pleases me.
I have another dear friend, K, whose beloved son died a few months before Shelley. His death was long and slow, the result of an incredibly rare disease that wastes away your bones, (only 200 people in the world have had this). He was 18years old. Her family nursed him at home for the last seven months of his life. I admire her courageousness. She rang me a little while after Shelley’s death and has been one of my strongest bonds and inspirations since.
Together our grief is outrageous, if it was colours, it would be black and blue and deep purple. But it is magnificent to be able to be so bold and loud and unreasonable about the death of our children. She says that I help her and she sure as hell helps me, tremendously. We talk about the different deaths, one with time to talk and nurture, one without. One is no better than the other. I can’t imagine how she managed all those months, knowing what the outcome would be; she can’t imagine the brutality, shock and horror of the murderous death. We laugh too, which may surprise you, but we do. At outrageous things. The poor check out chick who says, “Have a nice day,” and you want to, or do explode, saying how the hell can I have a nice day my child is dead. It is so raw and wild and we understand each other.
It is wonderful to be able to talk to each other, no holds barred and say what we think and feel. We mutter about people muttering on about time is great healer. Bullshit, we say, it doesn’t change a thing. Perhaps the healing does increase and you can be again able, to take some joy from life, from your other children and your family. But the wound is as fresh today as if was the 7th July for me, and her son's death date for her. It will be so every day we draw breath.
This is for Ben and Shelley and their ever loving Mums and families.
We love you and hold you in our hearts every day.
Every Day
every day
I carry this
the loss of you
some days
it is not obvious
but today
it hits me again
I hold the weight of your ashes
more than you weighed at birth
I think
I clutch them to me
I want to place you back inside me
to give you life again
I carry you
every day
every day
(from my book “Dear Shelley”, published June 2006)
Arohanui,
KG
Every Day
every day
I carry this
the loss of you
some days
it is not obvious
but today
it hits me again
I hold the weight of your ashes
more than you weighed at birth
I think
I clutch them to me
I want to place you back inside me
to give you life again
I carry you
every day
every day
(from my book “Dear Shelley”, published June 2006)
Arohanui,
KG
XX
11 May 2008
Mother's Day
Today is Mother’s day. At one extreme it is another commercial identity gone berserk. Brochures have filled the letterbox all week with “gifts” especially targeted for the female species (from $2 gifts to gifts worth 1000’s.) At the other end of the scale there will be some children making the proverbial burnt toast and cold tea treat for their mum. Somewhere in the middle, maybe, there is the hope that all of us pause a while and consider the role our mother has played in our lives.
For some this will be an act of love. For others it will be reflecting on cracked and frayed relationships that have so far taken up hours of therapy with still more to come!! A mother’s role is a powerful one in a person’s life. Like any type of power, it can be used for good or evil in the extreme.
For me, it is a very mixed day. I am one of the lucky ones. My mother was a strong, loving and giving woman. She strived hard and worked long hours to support her family as a widow after my father’s death, when I was 10 years old. This was no easy task, there were no benefits in those days and Mum worked two jobs to keep us all clothed, fed and educated. Mum didn't always approve of my decisions but she always loved and supported me, no matter what.
Mum died at the age of 85 and you know, she never missed anyone’s birthday. Without fail, a card would arrive in the mailbox on the exact birth date, for the birthday person. This included her children and their children. I found a pile of them the other day, when I was going through some of my stuff. Cards for me, Shelley, FBS and SBS. Cards the kids all treasured and took great delight in. There was usually some spending money as it becomes hard to know what to send when you live in another part of the country. They were a great source of joy and love.
I am grateful for my mother’s love and her strength. She showed me what a strong, loving woman is. She has walked with me in Shelley’s death and I have drawn on her strength and love to survive my daughter’s death. I wonder how she would have handled this tragedy and I am glad in some ways, she was spared that pain. She had had enough pain in her own life.
Shelley was the first baby she had seen that was so tiny. When we were born, the mother didn’t get to see the baby straight away, and it was I think up to a week before they got to hold and touch the baby. She had never seen a bellybutton, still with some of the cord attached. I remember her surprise and her question about it.
I hope she knows how much she has helped me in my life. In fact I know she does.
I am blessed with my three children and love all three for eternity. The world is a better place for the lives of these two young men and their sister. I am blessed and proud to be their mother. I carry them all in my heart – everyday.
Much love my darlings
KG
XX
For some this will be an act of love. For others it will be reflecting on cracked and frayed relationships that have so far taken up hours of therapy with still more to come!! A mother’s role is a powerful one in a person’s life. Like any type of power, it can be used for good or evil in the extreme.
For me, it is a very mixed day. I am one of the lucky ones. My mother was a strong, loving and giving woman. She strived hard and worked long hours to support her family as a widow after my father’s death, when I was 10 years old. This was no easy task, there were no benefits in those days and Mum worked two jobs to keep us all clothed, fed and educated. Mum didn't always approve of my decisions but she always loved and supported me, no matter what.
Mum died at the age of 85 and you know, she never missed anyone’s birthday. Without fail, a card would arrive in the mailbox on the exact birth date, for the birthday person. This included her children and their children. I found a pile of them the other day, when I was going through some of my stuff. Cards for me, Shelley, FBS and SBS. Cards the kids all treasured and took great delight in. There was usually some spending money as it becomes hard to know what to send when you live in another part of the country. They were a great source of joy and love.
I am grateful for my mother’s love and her strength. She showed me what a strong, loving woman is. She has walked with me in Shelley’s death and I have drawn on her strength and love to survive my daughter’s death. I wonder how she would have handled this tragedy and I am glad in some ways, she was spared that pain. She had had enough pain in her own life.
Shelley was the first baby she had seen that was so tiny. When we were born, the mother didn’t get to see the baby straight away, and it was I think up to a week before they got to hold and touch the baby. She had never seen a bellybutton, still with some of the cord attached. I remember her surprise and her question about it.
I hope she knows how much she has helped me in my life. In fact I know she does.
I am blessed with my three children and love all three for eternity. The world is a better place for the lives of these two young men and their sister. I am blessed and proud to be their mother. I carry them all in my heart – everyday.
Much love my darlings
KG
XX
7 May 2008
kd lang
The sun finally shone for a while today. Long enough for me to do some fence staining. I have diverted my energy to doing this instead of finishing the last little bit of house wall that needs it’s second coat. I am a bit sick of climbing up and down the ladder and thought fence staining looked easier!!! Huh!! It isn’t. It is time consuming and fiddly but it does look fabulous.
I have still got three or four more days painting to go before I can say, the house, decks and fences are finished!! I am looking forward to that and to just slobbing around the house, reading books, writing and keeping warm.
I had some help today. kd lang assited me by blasting my eardrums with her amazing songs. I am in kd overdrive as HB and I went to see her live concert last night. She is an incredible singer and songwriter. Her show was exceptional with new songs and old songs, all done to with perfection and passion and even better than on the cds. That is true natural talent. Her voice raises the hairs on the back of my neck. I wept as she sang Leondard Cohen’s, Hallelujah, haunting, incredible and one of the songs I listened to over and over again when Shelley was murdered. Music is one of my life lines and there are some songs that are so much part of Shelley in my life. It was amazing to witness this beautiful singer performing this song. Of course, every song kd sang was incredible. There is so much joy to be had watching such a skilled and gifted performer giving of her soul. Along with my other favourites artists, kd has supported me in my grief, through her music. My memory of seeing her live, will always be part of my life.
Thank you kd lang for sharing your amazing self and touching my soul.
Arohanui,
KGXX
I have still got three or four more days painting to go before I can say, the house, decks and fences are finished!! I am looking forward to that and to just slobbing around the house, reading books, writing and keeping warm.
I had some help today. kd lang assited me by blasting my eardrums with her amazing songs. I am in kd overdrive as HB and I went to see her live concert last night. She is an incredible singer and songwriter. Her show was exceptional with new songs and old songs, all done to with perfection and passion and even better than on the cds. That is true natural talent. Her voice raises the hairs on the back of my neck. I wept as she sang Leondard Cohen’s, Hallelujah, haunting, incredible and one of the songs I listened to over and over again when Shelley was murdered. Music is one of my life lines and there are some songs that are so much part of Shelley in my life. It was amazing to witness this beautiful singer performing this song. Of course, every song kd sang was incredible. There is so much joy to be had watching such a skilled and gifted performer giving of her soul. Along with my other favourites artists, kd has supported me in my grief, through her music. My memory of seeing her live, will always be part of my life.
Thank you kd lang for sharing your amazing self and touching my soul.
Arohanui,
KGXX
1 May 2008
Joyfulness
There is much joy in my life that rides side by side with my grief. I have much to be thankful for in the love of my HB, my sons (FBS & SBS and his SH). I write about grief more often because it is ever present and because it is a new experience.
It touches the autumn colours of the leaves that bring me joy. It hangs around the laughter that we (HB, FBS, SBS & his SH) generate when we all get together. It is in the present and the future. It will be there until I take my last breath and beyond.
There is no how to do grief manual. It is a very individual process, unique for each one of us. It is huge but I can breathe and let it wash over me now. I am no longer scared of it. In some ways I have to befriend this gnawing emptiness, to tuck it under my heart and wear it. It is just a different way of being; this is my life, incorporating loving, laughing, working, planning and grieving.
It is simple really. It can’t be avoided. It is a constant knowledge; a constant pain.
I have much to be thankful for and much to thank my dearest and nearest for. The love, the support, the joy, the struggles we all share. I would not say that I am miserable, or living a miserable life. I am living the best life I can with those I love. I have an energy to live it the best way I can, the way Shelley would want me to live it, with a joyfulness and an energy to engage in life.
I learn from my sons, her brothers, who are amazing in their wisdom and grief. They have taught me to live life large, to use all of my abilities to the limit, to honour Shelley. I am supported in love and life by my darling HB.
I could not even have got this far without the love and support of my dear hearts. They support my tears, I support their tears and we move on through it. I know they are there no matter what, and they know the same thing. That’s how we roll. Shelley would be proud.
For my precious darlings,
with my love and gratitude
Kia Kaha
KGXX
It touches the autumn colours of the leaves that bring me joy. It hangs around the laughter that we (HB, FBS, SBS & his SH) generate when we all get together. It is in the present and the future. It will be there until I take my last breath and beyond.
There is no how to do grief manual. It is a very individual process, unique for each one of us. It is huge but I can breathe and let it wash over me now. I am no longer scared of it. In some ways I have to befriend this gnawing emptiness, to tuck it under my heart and wear it. It is just a different way of being; this is my life, incorporating loving, laughing, working, planning and grieving.
It is simple really. It can’t be avoided. It is a constant knowledge; a constant pain.
I have much to be thankful for and much to thank my dearest and nearest for. The love, the support, the joy, the struggles we all share. I would not say that I am miserable, or living a miserable life. I am living the best life I can with those I love. I have an energy to live it the best way I can, the way Shelley would want me to live it, with a joyfulness and an energy to engage in life.
I learn from my sons, her brothers, who are amazing in their wisdom and grief. They have taught me to live life large, to use all of my abilities to the limit, to honour Shelley. I am supported in love and life by my darling HB.
I could not even have got this far without the love and support of my dear hearts. They support my tears, I support their tears and we move on through it. I know they are there no matter what, and they know the same thing. That’s how we roll. Shelley would be proud.
For my precious darlings,
with my love and gratitude
Kia Kaha
KGXX
No Recipe for Grief
There was supposed to be a big storm last night. Torrential rain, high winds and flooding were expected in much of the Far North and the East Coast of the North Island of NZ. Local council crews and fire crews were on standby for the imminent disaster. But guess what? It didn’t eventuate.
It has been showery with a few good wind gusts but not much more, anywhere. The sun does it’s best to kid us it is still good weather, but it can only outrun the clouds for intermittent periods. The resultant days have been very mixed, sunny one minute; huge black thundery clouds the next with a few showers in-between. Unpredictable sums it up accurately.
The rain means that I am not able to continue with my painting project. I have kept myself busy, very busy. I only realize the effort I have been putting in to keeping busy, when the enforced stillness comes. I have been avoiding stillness. With it comes the deep knowing of the loss. The gut knowing, heart knowing, soul knowing, all encompassing, knowing – that Shelley is dead.
I can’t argue with nature, I have to give into it and work with whatever it throws me. I have to adapt.
It is the same with Shelley’s death. An unnatural process, an act of terrorism/murder, call it what you like - the unlawful taking of another’s life. The title doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that Shelley is no longer here to enjoy her life. Shelley is no longer physically here in my life.
The busyness (not sure that is even a word but business spells business as in mind your own, or commercial activity!!) continues despite the inclement weather. I have adapted and redirected my energy into my writing and trying to create delicious vegetarian winter-type meals, comfort food for us all. This seems right and I am enjoying the creative nature of both of these tasks
Shelley had heaps of great vegetarian recipes and she had lovingly hand written them all into a notebook. I found her recipe book when we were sorting through her meagre belongings. I photocopied the recipes and gave one of her best friends, the original copy. That was all she wanted. It was the right thing to do.
I thought I might make a Shelley recipe for dinner tonight. I got out the folder with the photocopies in it and started sifting through the pages. Suddenly, I was crying again. Unable to contain my feelings, the tears just poured and poured out of me. I had thought I had done all the crying I could do in a lifetime – but that is not the case. The recipes will have to wait a while before I can delve into the precious words Shelley put down along with a tick or two beside her favourite and I imagine, most successful recipes.
It is a peaceful kind of grieving, if there is such a thing. The stillness and quietness somehow brings me closer to Shelley. She is in my heart and soul as I work at my computer on the poems for my second book and this blog. It feels good.
Today is the 37th alcohol free day. I think I might even stop counting them shortly. It is so strange that it doesn’t seem to be an issue any more. I don’t want to drink. I have far too much to do. I have to learn how to work through the grief that I had submerged. I have to learn to embrace the stillness and not be afraid of the feelings that emerge.
I used to worry about what I would do instead of drinking. No I wonder how I had the time to bother drinking and worry about running out of life before I get all the things done that I want to do. It is a very odd feeling.
Arohanui,
KG
XX
It has been showery with a few good wind gusts but not much more, anywhere. The sun does it’s best to kid us it is still good weather, but it can only outrun the clouds for intermittent periods. The resultant days have been very mixed, sunny one minute; huge black thundery clouds the next with a few showers in-between. Unpredictable sums it up accurately.
The rain means that I am not able to continue with my painting project. I have kept myself busy, very busy. I only realize the effort I have been putting in to keeping busy, when the enforced stillness comes. I have been avoiding stillness. With it comes the deep knowing of the loss. The gut knowing, heart knowing, soul knowing, all encompassing, knowing – that Shelley is dead.
I can’t argue with nature, I have to give into it and work with whatever it throws me. I have to adapt.
It is the same with Shelley’s death. An unnatural process, an act of terrorism/murder, call it what you like - the unlawful taking of another’s life. The title doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that Shelley is no longer here to enjoy her life. Shelley is no longer physically here in my life.
The busyness (not sure that is even a word but business spells business as in mind your own, or commercial activity!!) continues despite the inclement weather. I have adapted and redirected my energy into my writing and trying to create delicious vegetarian winter-type meals, comfort food for us all. This seems right and I am enjoying the creative nature of both of these tasks
Shelley had heaps of great vegetarian recipes and she had lovingly hand written them all into a notebook. I found her recipe book when we were sorting through her meagre belongings. I photocopied the recipes and gave one of her best friends, the original copy. That was all she wanted. It was the right thing to do.
I thought I might make a Shelley recipe for dinner tonight. I got out the folder with the photocopies in it and started sifting through the pages. Suddenly, I was crying again. Unable to contain my feelings, the tears just poured and poured out of me. I had thought I had done all the crying I could do in a lifetime – but that is not the case. The recipes will have to wait a while before I can delve into the precious words Shelley put down along with a tick or two beside her favourite and I imagine, most successful recipes.
It is a peaceful kind of grieving, if there is such a thing. The stillness and quietness somehow brings me closer to Shelley. She is in my heart and soul as I work at my computer on the poems for my second book and this blog. It feels good.
Today is the 37th alcohol free day. I think I might even stop counting them shortly. It is so strange that it doesn’t seem to be an issue any more. I don’t want to drink. I have far too much to do. I have to learn how to work through the grief that I had submerged. I have to learn to embrace the stillness and not be afraid of the feelings that emerge.
I used to worry about what I would do instead of drinking. No I wonder how I had the time to bother drinking and worry about running out of life before I get all the things done that I want to do. It is a very odd feeling.
Arohanui,
KG
XX
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