Living With Loss... Five Years On

Every year, this date rolls around and I find myself thinking back to five years ago, to that morning full of heartbreak and saddness when I found out my Dad had passed away. I also use today to think back on all the happy memories, the fun times and the joy that my Dad brought to our lives.  I flick through photos, go through keepsakes and read over condolence cards with their precious words about the kind-hearted, caring man my Dad was.

One of the cards contains a few lines that always stick with me, a card from one of my best friends, with a quote by Morrie Schwartz written inside, taken from a book I had loaned to her, 'Tuesdays With Morrie'...


"As long as we can love each other, and remember the feeling of love we had, we can die without ever really going away.  All the love you created is still there.  All the memories are still there.  You live on in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here."


It is a quote that comes to me often, whenever I find myself missing my Dad or worrying about how I am able to keep his memory alive (not only for my sake, but for my girls).

Today, I will sit here sipping my tea and enjoying Dutch Specular biscuits (Dad's favourites), remembering all the uncountable times Dad called in for a cuppa and a chat on his way home from work, just to check on me and to catch up on our latest news.  I will buy a bunch of red carnations, remembering Dad visiting me in hospital when Grace was born and bringing the same flowers to me... an unhealthy not-so-well-selected bunch that couldn't have looked more beautiful in my eyes because Dad chose them himself and they were given with armfuls of love. I will wear the necklace he brought back from Queensland for me, remembering the thoughtfulness he always showed, buying more for others than himself whenever he went on holidays...

I will hug my girls that little bit tighter and make sure they know just how much I love them, just as I did whenever my Dad gave me one of his big comforting hugs, remembering that life is precious and that my loved ones are my world...

Purple Passion

I have never been a football fanatic. Growing up with a Dad who lived and breathed the game I was happy to barrack along for his team but never had anywhere near his level of enthusiasm. Last Saturday night though, with Paul out in the city watching the preliminary final at a pub with mates, I told the girls we were watching a football game after tea and would be cheering for ‘Pop’s team’.

For a good part of the first half, we sat on the living room couch together, Sophie parroting back my ‘come on Freo!’ every time I uttered the phrase and pumping her little fist in the air. With every goal, the three of us would leap to our feet, hold hands and do our ‘happy dance’, chanting ‘Freo! Freo!’…the girls giggling away caught up in the fun of it all.

For the final quarter, with the girls tucked up in bed  (Grace joined me for the countdown after she crept out for a sip of water), I continued to watch on anxiously. I cheered just as much for my Dad as for The Dockers themselves...  And when that final siren sounded, my eyes welled with tears, firstly with happiness at Dad’s team having made the Grand Final but also for that exciting moment I knew he would have loved to have witnessed himself.

Over the past week, we have embraced the festivities and created purple decorations to hang in our living room. On Saturday, the girls are planning to dress in purple (albeit purple fairy dresses) and we will have a little party here at lunch time with friends so we can all watch the match together.

While Sophie is too young, I hope that some day, perhaps Grace will have a vague recollection of the time her Mummy embraced all things Fremantle, danced around with her in the living room and cheered with all her heart for ‘Pop’s team’…

The Tale Of 'That' Treasure Chest

I don't normally write consecutive posts quite so close together, however a little while back, I promised you all I'd share the story of my beloved keepsake chest 'one day'. This evening, on the fourth anniversary of my Dad's passing, I figured it was a fitting day to write about it...

I can clearly remember my seventeenth birthday.  Several weeks before it, I had stumbled across a cute, metal treasure chest of my Dad’s.  With its smooth rounded top, studded detailing and simple design, I fell in love with it immediately, begging Dad to let me have it.  He refused and a battle erupted between us.  In true self-absorbed teenage fashion, I couldn’t fathom his unreasonableness and viewed his stance as stubborn.  Not one to express his feelings in those days or to share with me just how precious that box was to him and why, we found ourselves at loggerheads and didn’t talk for a week. 

It wasn’t until years later that I discovered my Pop had made that lovely chest by hand.  It safely held his Dutch war medals, the ribbon from his navy hat and the intricate buttons from his uniform, pieces so very precious to my Dad having lost his father at the age of fifty (when he himself was still very much a boy at only eighteen).  That keepsake box was special to him because of the memories it contained and the connection it held to a loved one lost far too early.

And so it is that years later, history has repeated itself and the same treasure chest has found its way into my possession, the war memorabilia it held having since been passed on to my aunty.  When my Dad passed away on this day four years ago, and we later began the heartbreaking task of sorting through his possessions, the one thing I wanted to inherit more than anything was that treasure box.  Not because I still longed for it the way I did as a seventeen year old, but because I now understood… I understood all that it symbolised and why my Dad had been so unwilling to part with it.  I knew he would want me to have it.  

Sitting on the bookshelf in our living room, today it holds my keepsakes of my own Dad’s…the key ring he carried with him every day, an East Fremantle Football Club pin, a few of his rings and several of his dinky cars (collectibles by now I’m sure but purely sentimental to me). 

Every day, I walk past that much coveted and much admired treasure chest, feeling the cruel irony that after our battle way back in my teenage years, I can now say it is mine. 

Today, I’d trade a thousand of those chests, if only I could have my dear Dad here with me again…

Today is the fourth anniversary of my Dad’s passing, a day which I carry with a heavier heart than previous years, 

harder now that more and more has happened in my life that my Dad has sadly missed out on being a part of…
One of my favourite posts I've ever written was the one from this day last year, where I shared what happened on the day my Dad died -
it somehow captured how deeply I miss him, how much he was loved and my effort to live a life he'd be proud of... 

The Fifth Member Of Our Family

Prompted by a comment from a long-time reader a few weeks back, today I decided to focus my post on our fifth family member, our much loved Asha.  Having shared a photo of Grace and her 'best friend' to accompany my thoughts on 'capturing the now', I felt bad that someone so familiar with my blog wasn't aware we had a dog...

For years before we had children, Asha was our baby.  We brought her home as a sweet little puppy... a typical Blue Heeler who nipped at our heels, dug holes in the garden we were working so hard to beautify and who tore my brand new dress off the washing line and ripped it to shreds.  Sunday walks at the Leighton dog beach or along the river were planned with Asha's needs in mind.  She joined us on several holidays to Esperance, had her own impressive 'collection' of stuffed toys and was regularly bought bones and other special treats.

When I fell pregnant with Grace, it was as though Asha could sense something.  She would no longer jump up excitedly when I was around and became my little shadow.  One morning early in my pregnancy, I experienced a frightening amount of bleeding. Terrified I was losing our baby, I sat on the couch alone and sobbed. Asha padded over to me and affectionately rested her head on my lap as a show of comfort, as though she shared my pain and worry.  I'll never forget that sweet gesture.

Nap time for Sophie and Asha

Slowly, our life began to change.  Grace came along and no longer was Asha our number one.  Folders of 'Asha' photos gave way to newborn snapshots.  I became more bothered by dog hair.  Visits to Leighton were few and far between.  However, over time, what she lacked in attention from us, was more than made up for with the companionship of Grace.  With the addition of Sophie, Asha's playmates doubled. The less frequent long walks, regular brushing and buying of treats is nowadays well and truly made up for by being chased around the yard and cuddled non-stop by our two girls who both jostle for the honour of being allowed to feed their beloved doggy.

Last night, as Paul was opening the back door to go put out the bins, Grace chased after him with a picture. He assumed it was one of her artworks she was insisting he put in his car and bring to work.

"Daddy, can you peg this up on the tree next to Asha's kennel?  I've drawn a picture for her," she explained.

It seems that concern is shown not only for her comfort, but also for the attractiveness of her sleeping space.  While she may not be the main subject of my photography these days, nor as spoilt as she once was, Asha is is loved now more than ever and such an important member of our family.

Eight Years Of Marriage

Sweet hearts by Paulova Ceramics

In the early hours of this morning, I woke up to rain falling softly outside my window, just as I did on the sixteenth of April eight years ago on the day Paul and I were married.  Only today, when our girls toddled hand in hand down to our bedroom with beaming smiles and good morning kisses, I was reminded of how much has happened in these past eight years and how blessed I am to have such a wonderful husband by my side...

Someone supportive with nothing but my best interests at heart.  Someone who 'weathers the storms of tough times' together with me as a team.  Someone with whom to share all of the precious moments that are experienced every day as parents to two little ones.

On this day eight years ago, I became a 'Mrs'... and I have been grateful every day since for the life we share and for all of the happy memories I know will be part of our family's journey in the coming years...

Morning Bliss

Having Paul home on long service leave has already been SO good.  Small projects have been worked on around the house.  Ikea furniture has been assembled (yes, I finally have a new desk). I've been able to pop out to run the odd errand despite Sophie having to be home for her mid-day nap.  The best perk of all though has been the little outings we've been able to do here and there.

Yesterday, the four of us headed out early morning on the family boat for a few hours, cruising up the Swan River.  It was bliss.  Watching all the cars banked up along the freeway stuck in traffic jams on their way to work made it feel all the more holiday-like.  The temperature was mild, the sky clear and blue and a sense of adventure filled the air.

We went under the Narrows Bridge, alongside the ferry terminals and past the city skyline, dotted with its  towering office buildings.  In East Perth, we pulled up alongside the jetty in the Claisebrook Inlet and stopped for morning tea at Toast, a quaint and cozy cafe with a distinct retro style of decor.  We enjoyed milkshakes, coffee, tea and delicious thick challah toast topped with Nutella before continuing on our journey.

To top off our great morning, we spotted a pair of friendly dolphins and so we stopped the boat for a bit and just drifted, watching them pop up out of the water all around us.  You can see in the photo above how they reappeared right up close next to us.  So magical.

The return journey was a bit bumpier and windier, but as I sat at the back of the boat, enjoying the fresh breeze, city views and blue sky together with my three loves, I was ever so grateful to be enjoying a much happier end to our week than the previous one.  Sophie thankfully dozed off nestled under Paul's arm (she'd been in a rather grizzly mood again) and Grace counted jellyfish as they bobbed past us.  We returned home with full bellies, sand between our toes and an eagerness to go for another little family boat cruise very soon...

The Sadness Of Old Age

This morning, as I popped down to Fremantle, I drove along soaking in all the beauty of a sunny autumn sky, mentally taking notes about what I was planning to post today.  Instead, I've returned home and sat here at my computer to compose a whole different set of words instead.

My visit to Fremantle was to visit my poor Nanna in hospital (Dad's Mum).  Last Tuesday night, she had a fall which left her with a broken hip and after a three day wait for an operation which frustratingly kept being postponed, she is now slowly recovering from her surgery.

I made my way up to her room and found her drifting in and out of sleep.  I held her hand and stroked her wrinkled cheek.  Her skin was paper thin and she seemed so much older than usual (although at almost 92 years of age, I'm not sure quite how possible that is actually).  Her usual spritely smile and greeting were only half there.  Chatting was difficult for her, but we managed a little bit of conversation as I tried my hardest to be cheery.  Phrases were repeated over and over and she seemed very confused. 

She did manage a little joke though, and that made my heart very happy indeed.

And when I could see that she was having trouble keeping her eyes open, I kissed her forehead, told her I loved her and let her rest, walking back to my car with tear filled eyes and thinking about how horrible it is that old age sees people in such a state. 

A natural part of life I know, but a sad one nonetheless...

The photo above of Nanna and I was taken on my fourth birthday, when I was almost the same age as Grace is now.



Point And Shoot: Party Time

The weekend just gone was uncharacteristically busy for us, a rather jam-packed one with two birthday parties for two special little cousins to attend.  Saturdays and Sundays are usually fairly low key in our home, made up of an early morning bike ride for Paul, a few errands and jobs, a simple family outing such as a picnic breakfast by the river and some relaxed pottering around the house and garden.  However, while we were all fairly tired when the end of the weekend rolled around, we had fun and loved every minute celebrating with family and friends.

On Saturday, we celebrated a first birthday party which was the perfect combination of a casual backyard atmosphere, pretty decorations and a beautifully decorated cake.  A shade shelter was set up with a sandpit and water table underneath to keep the little ones happy while the adults enjoyed delicious morning tea treats.

 

Sunday we headed to the Stirling Miniature Railway for a sixth birthday party.  It was a fantastic family venue with a fully shaded picnic area situated in the middle of the train track circuits. The adults took turns doing a loop with the little ones who all had a ball riding on the steam engines over bridges and through the tunnel as the engine chuffed its way along.

Sophie was just as infatuated with the trains as she was with her baby cousin... seeing these two playing peek-a-boo with each other was truly adorable.

After our weekend of parties and our typical quiet Monday at home, it will be a day of rest and recuperation for us today.  Grace is tucked up in bed congested with a cold and I think Sophie has a touch of the sniffles too... time to put on my nurse's hat...


Linking up with Lou's Point And Shoot

A Difficult Day

Today is the third anniversary of my Dad’s death.  As this date rolls around each year, I find I’m worrying about the same thing… how to keep his memory alive in my mind.  I don’t ever want to forget what his voice sounded like saying the words, “Hi love” as I opened the front door when he visited or the way his big hugs made me feel so loved. I want my girls to grow up knowing what a genuine man their Pop was, how proud he was of his family and how he would have adored them and showered them with affection.    
I was never a ‘Daddy’s girl’ growing up.  It was only after my teenage years that things changed for us.  However, the one thing I take comfort in since his death, is knowing that our relationship in those last ten years was perfect.  Dad would be in contact with us often, with not many days passing before he’d phone just to check on us, to message Paul asking, “how are my girls going?” or to stop by for a cuppa on his way home from work.  He would attend every gig of my sister’s and every social sporting game of mine or Paul’s.  He visited me at the maternity hospital every single day I was there when I had Grace.  If he were still here today, he’d be reading every one of my blog posts just to show his support.  

That day three years ago is still clear in my mind.  It was an ordinary Tuesday at home for me.  Nine week old Grace had just gone down for her morning nap when I received a call checking to see whether I’d heard from my Dad as he couldn’t be contacted.  He had failed to drop past my Nanna’s after work the previous evening as he’d planned to and that morning, he still hadn’t called to check on her (a daily ritual for him).  I can remember that sick feeling in my stomach as I desperately tried to call his mobile and his home number over and over and over.  Nothing.  I called Paul at work to see if he’d spoken to Dad that morning.  He hadn’t.  Knowing things weren’t right, Paul raced home. 

And then I waited by the phone and cried and cried with worry. 

Not long after, I found out Dad had suffered a sudden heart attack.  He was fifty six.

My sister had been away down south at a workshop when Dad passed away.  My aunty and uncle made the five hour trip there to break the devastating news to her in person and bring her home.  I can’t imagine how difficult that five hour car ride must have been for her. 

I thought I’d share with you all today something that was said at my Dad’s funeral, something that I try to remember every single day and that I hope strikes a chord with some of you reading this post…

“Life is something we so often take for granted, it is something we assume.  But it is so fragile, just a moment in eternity.

Today is a reminder to us that we should live our own lives fully. 

Treasure each moment as though it could be your last. 

Let life challenge and encourage you.

Cherish those you love, tell them just how much you love them.

Life is still out there waiting to be lived.  Celebrate it and do things today; because life is too short to put off living until tomorrow.

If all you who knew Trevor can learn from his experience, if you can profit from his example, if you can live a little better for having known him, then this will give continuing purpose to his life and be a living memorial to him.”

Love you Dad and miss you more than ever.

A Few Christmas Photos

Well, Christmas has come and gone for another whole year and it’s hard to believe it’s almost 2012. We had a fun (albeit exhausting) time in our little household with Grace really being able to understand the whole gift giving concept and enjoying all the festivities that come along with this season. She was very disappointed though to discover that her Advent calendar had finished!

Our morning was spent with the four of us checking to see whether Santa and his reindeers had been, exchanging gifts and playing with new toys. Grace was very excited to see that the beer and biscuits we left out had been enjoyed by Father Christmas and that the broccoli we left for the reindeers had been devoured (I had a piece of broccoli due to be thrown out so I figured, why waste it?)

Late morning, my Mum and sister came over to help get lunch on and open more presents and then Paul’s Mum joined us for our lunchtime meal. We kept things simple with turkey, ham, salad and potato bake followed by the most delicious lime cheesecake which my sister made. I was very grateful to my Mum, mother-in-law and sister for organising all the food for me.

At night, we went to Paul’s cousin’s house where we spent the evening with his aunts, uncles and cousins.

Here’s a few family photos…

It's A Girl!!

Meet the newest member of our family... Sophie Alexa. Born Friday 21st October at 2.29pm, weighing 7lb 11oz.

All is going really smoothly and we are enjoying our hospital stay and these early days of getting to know our new bub.

See you back here soon once things settle down a bit...

July 21st… Another Year On

Today it is two years since my Dad passed away. I think I feel sadder this year knowing that we are expecting another baby… a baby Dad won’t be around to see. He would have been so thrilled knowing he had another grandchild on the way.

One of the things I miss most is the genuine interest and support Dad showed for us. He shared our excitement over good news, was always keen to hear what we’d been up to over the weekend and listened eagerly to us describing plans for projects around our home. Most of all, he used to love hearing about Grace’s latest developments. I can picture how his face would have lit up watching her now as a little girl.

Today (depending on the non-stop rain that is forecast), I’ll visit the cemetery and leave some carnations on Dad’s grave (these were the last bunch of flowers he gave to me) and I’ll spend some time thinking about the father I’m proud to say was mine.

Source of top image unknown sorry.

The bottom photo is the most recent one I have of my Dad.
My favourite photo however is the one here of the two of us.

We're Having Another Baby...

Image source unknown

Update: Photo by Nicole Carman Photography

Thanks all for your get well wishes – we’re all pretty much back to normal in our little household and Grace has finished her antibiotics for her ear infection (what a challenge getting her to take medicine was!!)

Anyway, I’m glad I’m back to blogging today as I have been wanting to share something with you all on this date for some time now and finally this date is here… Paul and I are expecting another baby. We had our 12 week scan today and all is good so we’re finally letting people know our exciting news.

Falling pregnant for us was not straightforward so we are all the more excited. Back before Grace was born and after a long time of trying to have a baby, we went through many tests, the only thing showing up being that I had endometriosis (although there was no guarantee this was what was stopping us falling pregnant). After such a long time trying, we decided to go straight to IVF. We were extremely lucky as it was on the second attempt that I fell pregnant with Grace. However, going through IVF was challenging and I was lucky that I had such a supportive husband to help me be strong through it all. This time around our story was pretty much identical, although miraculously I fell pregnant after just our first round of IVF.

Our baby’s due date is the 18th October, a date which I’m sure will be here before we know it. I’ll look forward to sharing the months leading up to our baby’s arrival with you all. In the meantime, please excuse me not blogging as often as usual, I’ve been extremely exhausted in this first trimester but am hoping my energy levels will pick up soon.

Birthday Wishes

Hope everyone had a great Easter weekend. Ours has been quite a busy one with a cousin's wedding on Saturday (at which we had a fabulous time) and today we did a final clean up at my Dad's house before we hand over the keys to its new owners this week.

Most importantly, yesterday was my husband’s birthday so we had a family lunch at our house to celebrate both Easter and his special day. Paul is not only a loving and supportive husband but also an amazing daddy to our little Grace and I am thankful every day to be able to share my life with him. Hope you had a great birthday Paul!

The 'Perfect' Flowers

I bought these red carnations to bring with me to the cemetery today where we will be attending the placement of my Dad’s ashes. While not usually my flower of choice, red carnations are the flowers Dad last bought for me and so they have a special meaning behind them. Love you Dad x