3 years ago I told my kids " we are going to America in the morning"

Three years ago I told the kids, " We are going to America in the morning"

I still remember their faces, there was a mixture of elation and sadness. They knew that we were having late night phone calls and little or no sleep.
The two eldest knew their beloved Gran was very ill.
We had to make a decision and quickly, I offered my husband the chance to go ahead of me, I told him I'd take the kids so as he'd get to see his mother. I remember his long pause, I knew in my heart that I wanted to do that. I couldn't have imagined taking three kids on a 20 hour flight plus airport queues and all of that, but I'd have done it.
As things went he decided he'd call the hospital and say what he had to say, I never asked what he said, what do you say to your dying mother. I didn't feel it was my place to ask.

We decided to travel together with the hope that we'd make it in time.

I must have been operating on adrenilin otherwise I could not have gotten things done, I know I had a near breakdown in the passport office whenv we had missed our appointment for emergency passports. Red tape and beurocracy somehow let us slide that day. I know that I didn't have time to even think, I had to pack I had to get photographs taken , I had to have them witnessed and signed by our school principle, I had to pick up passports, I had to organise who would look after the place for 5 weeks. I had to tell school that the kids would be away, they had only just begun the third grade and prep, my son's first year of school.
Leaving that next day went smoothly, my neighbour packed us some homemade florentines,and drove us to the airport my other neighbour looked after our then cat, without instructions or lists, she just did it, that was just so kind. My husband instucted my to only pack three bags for us all, for five weeks!!! I could see his point we needed to travel light with only carry on luggage, I knew that speed was of the essence here.
It was like everything was going our way, even the cattle class flight was half empty we had the entire back of the plane to ourselves, 15 rows to pick and choose where to sit, lay, hang with an 18 month old , have you ever heard of that on a long haul flight.
 Eliza at the time as I say was 18 months old, she was the best baby traveler you could have wished for, she slept, she was quiet ,she sat for hours in ridiculous queues and never once whined. I don't even think the others did either. I could not imagine taking Circe my 2.4 year old on that journey, OMG she would have been such a handful.

All was going so smoothly till we reached LAX, the customs officer was scary, when I was getting a little shirty with his lack of compassion, Aaron whispered to me, "we need him on our side", he was right. In fact in the next few minutes we really did, my three children were on a kidnap watch list. Yes that's right, because we had their passports processed less than 24 hours before, Australia had sent out a warning. That's amazing, yes usually not right then. We had a connecting flight we needed to make, not an interrogation. My  five year old son piped up with "How long is this going to take" we said," a minute Honey", he said loudly " A metaphorical minute or a literal minute".
The custums office did a 180 turn, "did he say metaphorical?" all the severity from his face washed away, we became human, different even from the normal folk. He still sent us off to see someone else but I am sure he could have made things a lot worse for us.

As it turned out we arrived and were greeted warmly with coats, scarves hats gloves for each of us.The air outside was cold and bitter, my children had never experienced such crisp coldness, in our part of the world it was 40 degrees when we left we'd just experienced the hottest day in our lifetime 46 degrees. Parts of our state had only 10 days before experienced the most horrific of bushfires, killing almost 400 people, whipping townships off the map, killing entire families.
We didn't even own coats for this type of cold, and three bags weren't going to hold them.  My husband's cousin offered us one entire floor of her home to live in , she had organised a cot, car seats, a stroller even, graditude beyond my expectations.

As we stood in her home those first few minutes, I wondered why isn't anyone mentioning Mom, why  weren't they whisking Aaron away to see her. I didn't know that we were too late, that she ahd passed away that morning. I didn't imagine that at all this scenario, adrenilin hadn't allowed it.
My heart sank when I knew, all our efforts had been in vain.
 I felt for Aaron for all of us. I knew we'd have to tell the kids. That was hard, really hard, they loved her and had formed a real bond with her, she'd been to see them three times in their life.
My son said , holding back tears " Daddy you don't have a Mom anymore, you will be ok" a five year old was giving comfort, it warmed my heart, it made me love him a whole bunch.For me the hardest thing was knowing that my mother in law never met Eliza, they had spoken on the phone but she never had one of granma's warm hugs or stories read, she never saw her silvery white hair or had her  bright smile light up your face, she never saw he full of life.She never knew that I was only just pregnant then, I hadn't even known.
Today I think of the times we shared ,the laughs, the many visits we had from her,all the different places we'd  lived when she'd come to see us, the times we'd play scrabble, all the chocolate she feed my kids one morning before we were awake. I remember how much slower she moved the last time I saw her, the last picture we took with her, you never think goodbyes are forever.

I miss her Sunday calls, the updates on her treatment the hope in her voice. She always said she was doing great, she kept strong, she didn't want to worry us.
I miss having her to tell how things are going, how the kids are.
I miss the boxes of whiteman's chocolates, stupid but I do, the Christmas packages for the children. I miss having them make letters for her, I miss her in our lives.
I hate that death is so forever, so final, her passing taught me that for the first time.
Her passing also gave us precious time to spend with Aaron's father, we have beautiful memories of those moments with he and his wife. He passed a year later.
 I never believed more in things happening for a reason than I did then.
 Aaron's cousin of only 48 years was diagnosed with lung cancer only 2 weeks after we left, it would take his life 2 years later, take him from his three small children and beautiful wife. We spent an amazing time with this family, they began and still are so so special to us.
This family would move mountains for you ,seas if they could. for us, the warmth and kindness of my mother inlaw's community gave was over whelming. I had never known I think neither did Aaron the woman she was to this town, to her church. I felt like we spoke and met them all, each one had a story a piece of her to share with us. It was a glimpse of her, the way others too saw her and loved her, it eased our pain and helped us to let her go.
If you read this right through if you managed to stay with me I hope I didn't make you cry . I know mother in laws get a bad wrap, but I'd give anything to have her with us again. When I first met her I thought I'd have to try to make her like me, but I knew right away that I didn't have to.

You can take people by the hand and give them the best of you she always did that. She certainly gave Aaron the gift of, kindness of community, of an open heart and home of generosity beyond your own gain.

sad dot-to-dot

I have been seeing myself lately as a dot on a page. I have been imagining all the other dots around me, all those other people who are in the same world as me. Or the lack thereof.

The dots that flood faintly in a wash but that dissipate and rub off. The semi- permanent ones that wash out in water, they look great for a while but then they're gone. They may leave a mark or a stain, and sometimes they come back.

Then there are the ones you cannot draw cause they are kind of not actually there, the dots that would make you look really good on the page but do not hold any structural integrity. Some of these dots though I wish I actually had on my for real page. I know I may end up with more of these than I can give dot-love back to. Then there are dots that reappear, that form clusters around mine, sometimes they're inconsistent or random, but they're always there. Some of these dots actually stop me from moving onto anther page because I love them so much.

Then there are the ones that I should have drawn in permanent marker, because maybe they'd still be there. Sometimes I knew they were going, sometimes I didn't, but all of them left marks on my page so deep they will seep through every page I will ever fall onto. This week I lost another dot from my page, and so did everybody that shared that same dot, especially the little ones for whom that dot was their biggest.

We whom shared that dot can be sure that this dot seeps through and marks every page we all will ever have.

friday still life

we miss you, originally uploaded by various brennemans.

Something in the water

cautious, from the brenneman photo set.

This week has been a little reflective for me, somewhat sad and a little eye opening. I had a funeral to attend this week to pay respects to someone I will miss seeing and chatting to, a neighbour of mine and a relative of my Sister's. The funeral, her loss, the effect on my sister and her family, it's made me think again on the passing of my in-laws this last two years. I know how greatly that neighbour will be missed by her family, how much my family misses Aaron's parents.

The morning of the funeral I got reacquainted there with a neighbour from my childhood. I left that day feeling so grateful to have crossed paths with her again. She had so many insightful things to say on life and on death. I realised that someone's passing just makes you see this life you have , the past, the present and the future. It is a big pause button on your fast moving life, that unfortunately a funeral is what it takes to make one reflect. I wanted immediately to be home to hold my children, my husband, to take the time to be in the moment. We are all vulnerable, and we're only here for an indeterminate amount of time.

Time washes over us all, rich and poor young and old.

My eldest daughter's little world just got a little wider this week. On Friday she left for a holiday with her best friend and her family, without us, going to Tasmania for a week. How broadening an experience for her that will be! I remember taking them there two years ago: The children were younger, Eliza the exact age Circe is now. I am trying to remember was she talking, was she walking? How did I take three children on a plane on my own, I am also thinking, was I crazy? It was a time where I needed to be in the company of a friend where the kids could feel a little free away from the city. I treasure that experience, that time, and I keep my memories tangible and close by, in a jar.

They are all growing up. My son, too, is gone away for three nights from today, he will be camping with my neighbour and her son. I'm sure he will so benefit from this, but I will miss him terribly. With Bea I know she will be fine, she has been away to camp, but for Phoenix this is the first real long time from home. I see him as a bit less robust, he is the smallest in his grade. Tough in his own way, though.

I am glad I have an excuse to get to the beach again on Wednesday to pick him up. They grow so quickly and right before your eyes too. Life is short I am choosing to give them them opportunities to be independent, to wear mismatched shoes or paint their nails blue as Eliza does. To make their own mistakes to feel the vulnerability of their life so they can make the most of theirs. To open their eyes wider to the world but to maintain their closeness to home, to know that they are loved and accepted for who they are.

Coming home from the service, what a contrast I had at home for me. There I had seen this beautiful woman's life remembered in photographs and in home movies, and here at home I had a little life just taking on the world, new and fresh everyday something more than the day before. She's growing too, my little Circe has been making her presence hard to ignore, especially in the frenzy of my sewing.

She wants in on all the action, she wants to see what all that thread does what all those smells are, what is up there when I push a chair up. Her new found interest in her abilities led me to need to get out of the house, to bring the world to her. The day after the funeral I wanted to experience some life. What better way than to get to the beach, I mean WOW what must that be like for a 15-month old.

I know every summer when I see it again for the first time in months I am amazed, my kids love it. We even found starfish this time, my daughter wanted to go back and fetch her diary to draw them. My son thought it was the best day ever. He said those exact words, "Thank you Mum, this was my best day ever!" That was worth the sand I had to wash away from my kitchen sink, and the sand I am yet to vacuum from the car.

It's not just my children. Everything is growing, moving into the future. My garden this year provided me with impressive artichokes, well this week one that had kind of fallen behind had been left to flower. What a spectacularly gorgeous flower they produce. How could I not photograph this?

Time's passing is sometimes sad, sometimes even terribly sad. But it brings joy and beauty, too. My children, knowing my love of delicate things, bought in a gift for me this week, a tiny egg from our front garden. How special, how beautiful, they were bringing the world to me: A life had come from this egg. A reminder to me to tread carefully on this here planet, to stop and take notice or I will miss the beauty life has to offer.