Bittersweet

Today is the 10th. I have been in a time capsule of sorts, for the past three days. I wake all hours of the night, thinking about all sorts of things. It feels like I have been holding my breath, not daring to breathe. I can breathe again.

The prelude to the 7th was horrendous. I wanted to stop it happening, that date, that day. Shelley's dying. The pressure and stress mounted as the day approached, two years on. Panic grabbed me. The physical manifestations of my grief ebbed and flowed; not interested in food; alcohol my solace.

There is a kind of dislocation that occurs for me. I operate in a seemingly normal manner, (many people would debate that quite rightly!!) but my mind is all over the place. I forget things I know, words I know. I don't know what to do so I keep on doing the everyday things, all the time fending off this sense of panic. All the time shutting down on conversations that might expose my emotion.

I try to rationalise that it is only another day. Another day without Shelley. But it is the day this torturous cycle of grief began. The day of the act that murdered 52 people and hurt and maimed so many others. It is no ordinary day.

I don't know what to do. How to mark this day. How to make it better for my family. I don't want to bring everyone into a deep dark hole of despair but I don't want her dying to go unnoticed. I know that isn't the case and that everyone will be feeling the same. We all do different things with our giref, our missing of her. All of us stumbling around in our unknowingness. Not sure how to reach out.

The solution came from Shelley's friends. They wanted to know if we could get together at our place. The place they know as Shelley's home. So we did.

We had a gathering. An amazing assortment of friends, Shelley's friends and our friends. All who had been there for us since Shelley's death. All who had known her at different stages of her life. Some who came into our lives as a result of her murder.

We have a large home that amazingly expands and contracts, as if by magic, to meet our needs. In 2005 there was a constant flow of people in and out of it, numbers ranging from 2 to 3, 30 or more, 50 or more. It seems to take on a role of its' own, knowing the importance of keeping us safe, allowing its walls to unfold and gently hold us all, no matter how many, in the warmth and safe harbour of its centre.

It has held our screams, our tears, our anger and rage.

It held Shelley's 21st with back doors wideopen to the garden and the fence then open to the reserve to take the 100+ that were part of that special night. Laughter, stories, tears, songs, speeches. Tons of food and an abundance of alcohol. It is an emotionally very mature dwelling, unlike its occupants.

On this 7th July I am sure it would have been a slightly nervous house, on high alert for any possibilities as we all stepped into the unknown edges of our emotions.

What transpired was wonderful. It was as if there was a collective sigh of ease. The fireplace glowed with flickers of orange and red flames, eminating heat and light. Pictures of our beautiful Shelley beam down on us from our walls. Flowers were placed, candles lit and stories told.

And then there were the little people!! An amazing array of gorgeous new lives.

None of whom Shelley had the privilege of meeting.

Her friends M&M, now with a 2yr old and 8 month old K&H; J&G with J, two and abit and No 2 son due to be born a week ago!! M&;T with J four years old; D with her wonderful daughter S and her beautiful 7 week old son. It was incredible. These little people brought laughter and life into the home, they played together, they ate, they danced, they squealed they hugged us all and had a ball. You could almost feel a tangible sigh and relaxing of the walls as the evening unfolded. How loved and lucky all those littlies are. They were shared by all, eveyone only too keen interact with them to get to know them a little.

They can get you just like that, littlies. The joy on their face as you give them some crisps, a bisciut or a lolly. The way they look at you, straight in the eye, straight to your soul. The conversations they have, hilarious and extremely socially adept. There were no temper tantrams, no whining, no demanding this or that. They were just here, enjoying themselves, safe with their parents and family.

They can get you just like that, littlies. I held the littlest one, 7 weeks old. Perfectly formed, a beautiful little boy. He kept sleeping. I held him, hugged him, smelt his lovely newness, snuggled his neck and breathed in his warmth.

Then I was weeping. I handed him back gently. He got me. He got in under my protective layers.

I looked at him, and thought of all the hours ahead in his life. All the teaching, loving, training we do with our children. From where he is now at 7 weeks until he is a grown young man, off on his own path, how much time and love he will hold. How much love he will give back. How much a part of his family he is and always will be.

It broke my heart. It breaks my heart that anyone dares to end this. How dare someone harm a child. Any child. My child. My baby. No matter their age.
It was the best night. The best way to honour Shelley. The best way to remember all the losses.

We will never forget. We will love and protect our families and friends always, knowing as we do, that it is not always possible to protect them from evil. That is the heartbreaker.

One thing is for sure, we will be doing this more often. It was like tickling the underbelly of our grief and making us chuckle. A journey to other emotions, sharing a wonderful connectedness that Shelley had made for us all.

And I swear the house has a certain jaunty tilt to its' roof now.

Arohanui my dear ones

KG

Backyard with gate to reserve.
I