A moment

I had a bit of a moment last night.

Since I started taking the anti-depressants, my mood has certainly changed (as you've probably noticed). I'm a lot more alert, have tons of energy and am not so down all the time.

There have been some unexpected consequences though. Things that make me hope that I don't have to take them for long.
The first is that I seem to have lost my creative spark. I've had a bit of a writer's block, and I just don't seem to be taking as many good pictures as I was before. Perhaps it's true that the tortured mind is the most creative. I don't know where I heard that, but it makes sense, look at Kurt Cobain, Mozart, Van Gogh, Andy Warhol...
Not that I'm saying I'm in their league!

Anyway, all I know is that before I started taking these drugs, I was very low, but could pull out a good blog post without too much trouble. Now, It's a real struggle, and they never seem to read quite right for me.

The other consequence is that I have not been able to cry. And I mean at all. Not even a little bit; a single tear.

Until last night.

I don't know what set me off, but I had an overwhelming feeling of loss. Of missing Sam. And I had a good cry. Luckily my boys were there to give me cuddles, and I just let it out.

Don't worry, I feel better now, back to (my crazy version of) normal. But it was a good release.

Now to tackle the creativity thing...Do you think that being a little crazy (eccentric; off-centre; tortured; etc) is a necessity for creative thinking?

Another funeral

It was pretty awful.
I'm going to say now that I hate that it always comes back to Sam, but then again, it's always going to, isn't it?
I am very sad for my friends, and very sad for the group of people who are close to them and their daughter, who now have to start grieving. She was a lovely girl, and it was obvious by the number of people at her funeral that she was very well loved.

I had only met her a couple of times. I remember her as sweet, and gentle and very friendly. Her funeral was very moving and lovely, with some beautiful moments - when her mother, brother and sisters got up and spoke; when one of K's friends spoke beautifully; when one of her teachers spoke the words many people were obviously thinking.

When they were describing her, I was reminded of myself as a teenager. She was always trying to help people, always smiling, didn't like seeing people unhappy, wanted to be friends with everyone, not just one little group of people (and sometimes some of those little groups got angry with her). That was what I was like at school too. It's what I'm like now too, sometimes. Her birthday was 2 days before mine, too. Perhaps it's a Sagittarius thing.

But I have to admit, my thoughts did keep coming back to Sam. Their funerals were so different, and yet so similar. I certainly cried more at K's funeral than I did at Samuel's. Lots more. Especially afterwards.

I guess there are going to be lots more times that I feel this overwhelmed by grief. And it will be a long time before things are good or normal.

I'm having a day off today because I just feel so drained. I've had a little cold on and off for a few weeks now, but it's not really that. I think it's been building up for a couple of weeks now. I've got a terrible headache that is probably stress related, and my body just feels so sore and tired. I'm sure it's all stress, but I'm just going to have a quiet, nothing day.

Looks like Oliver will too.
When we picked him up yesterday after the funeral, he said "so many people are dying". I thought: what a sad thing for a six year old boy to have to be thinking about.

But I've gotta admit, it's exactly what I was thinking too. First, of course there was the Sam thing, which we're all having trouble adjusting to. Then there was my best friend's grandmother last week (which was sad, because of how my friend was feeling, but a different kind of sad, because, after all, she was 90). Then there was K. So much death. Too many unnecessary deaths!

I guess he's worried about who's going to die next. I know that thought's always in the back of my mind. I told him that people die all the time, it just happens that lately it's been people that we know. I also told him that no one we know is likely to die any time soon.
He didn't ask any more questions, and was fairly chirpy after that, so hopefully it's not worrying him too much.

But we're going to have a day off together today. I know it sounds like I'm a terrible mother, not sending him to school, but I don't care. He has got a weird looking rash on his arms, so I will take him to the doctor, but really, it's more of a mental health day for both of us.

I forget...

I've forgotten what Samuel's laugh sounded like.

Oliver burst out laughing at dinner, about something the bird did (we have a baby rainbow lorikeet living in the house at the moment), and then at a big burp that I did (in my defence, I had just had a big sip of Coke). He cackled and cackled and of course we joined in.
Then all of a sudden Anthony was crying. I asked him why and he said he was remembering the way Samuel had laughed when he told him about the umbrella.

The Umbrella
Some time in December, Anthony had thrown an umbrella into the garbage bin, and when the garbage man (well, the arm of the truck that passes for the garbage man these days) had emptied the bin into the truck, the umbrella had opened and projected garbage everywhere.
Anthony had thought it was funny and so had Samuel. He had thought it was hilarious, and hatched a plot to put umbrellas in all the bins. Samuel loved practical jokes, and well, anything funny actually. Even if it was really lame.

Anyway, after Anthony said that at dinner I got to thinking about Samuel. It was then I realised that I had forgotten his laugh. Of course, then I started crying too.
Oliver didn't know which of us to hug, so he reached out both hands to pat us on our arms, then, bless him, cracked another joke.

I have noticed that I am crying more often, and more easily than I did before. It's little things that trigger it: a smell, a TV show, a memory, even Anthony sets me off, and he didn't before.
It's a good thing I guess. I was a little worried before - that I was bottling it up or something. It's not like I am any sadder, it just mainly when the little things sink in: I was at the cinema the other night watching "How to Train Your Dragon" and I was really enjoying it. I thought "Samuel's never going to see this (or any) movie." Then I started crying; Or I saw a couple outside the college the other day and thought "Samuel will never have a girlfriend"; or even when I made the hot cross buns yesterday and realised that Sam wouldn't get to eat any.
Or when I realised that I couldn't remember his laugh.

I know he used to laugh a lot. And I can kind of remember him doing it, but I want so much to be able to 'hear' it in my mind. And I can't. I don't know why I want it so much. Maybe I'm afraid that once I forget one thing, I'll start to forget others. I know I'll never forget Sam, but I don't want him to fade either.

I wish I'd taken more videos, more voice recordings. But we never do, do we? I've got thousands of photos, and I'm really happy about that, but it's the sounds that I need.

Thankfully we have recordings of Sam's voice. When he first died, we thought all that we had was his voice mail message (six words: "It's Sam, I'll call you back"). We called it a few times, just to hear his voice. Then we found out his nanna had some recordings from her answering machine. So now we have those too. And I know I'll be holding on to those for dear life.

You never expect that when you speak to your kids it's going to be the last time. You never expect that the hug is going to be the last. That the laugh that came at the wrong time, or the bad joke that made you groan, or the story that goes absolutely nowhere, is going to be the last one you hear. If you did, maybe you'd pay more attention. I hope you do.

Oscar night (of all times)

I started writing a post about the Oscars (the winners and such), but it just seems like old news now. I will share though, that I was quite affected by Monday night's telecast.

Since I was a little girl I have been utterly, utterly fascinated with the Oscars, and the movie industry in general. It's mostly my Dad's fault. He is a BIG movie buff, and he brought me up on a steady diet of musicals, Barbra Streisand and the occasional classic (The Godfather etc).
What you've gotta understand, dear reader (particularly any of you born after 1980), is that when I was growing up, there were only three TV channels for a very long time, and video players didn't really arrive until I was a tween. So on a rainy Saturday afternoon, we could either go to the movies or watch what was on TV (Of course once videos came out, Dad bought musicals, Barbra Streisand and the occasional classic, so I still had to make do). But the thing is, all these movies were AWESOME! Because we didn't know any better. We couldn't log onto IMDB or Rotten Tomatoes to see what other people thought or wait for Jim to post his review on Facebook ;)
Simpler times?

But despite the apparent lack of good cinematic fare, I did manage to become a bit of a buff myself (to be fair to my poor dad, he did have good taste in movies, and he did introduce me to some good ones, as well as the musicals, Barbra Streisand and the occasional classic, I just wanted to tease him a little).

So Oscar night was always a BIG DEAL. We maintained media silence for most of the afternoon, and if anyone dared tell Dad who had won something, look out! Of course, I picked up this attitude after a while, too. We'd write out our predictions and tick them off as each award was given out, and for 3 or so hours felt like we were part of it all. I must admit I had gone off it all in the past few years: perhaps too much god-thanking, and there were a few awards that seemed set up or a little bit political.

**Confession Time**
For a very long time I wanted to win an Oscar. I went through a quite serious acting phase, discovered I probably wasn't as great at it as some of the others in my drama class/group. Then I thought I'd maybe direct or even edit. Working in a cinema probably didn't do anything to dampen those thoughts.

So, back to the telecast. As I've mentioned before, I haven't done a lot of crying about Sam. In fact, I've found it quite difficult at times. But not on Monday night. I don't know what it was (and no, it wasn't hormones), but there were many times that things happening in the show made me cry. Some of it was 'I wish that was me', and some of it was Samuel-related:

• When they screened the 'In Memoriam' part (all the movie types who had died during the past year), I thought of Samuel. No surprises there.
• When Sandra Bullock thanked all the mums. I wonder how many other mums reacted to that?
• Every time a good-looking young man came onstage, I thought about how that could have been Sam one day.

Et Cetera. Funny huh? Something just pushed my buttons. I guess in a way it's good that I did that because I had a chance to do some 'emoting'.

Somewhere around here, I have a photo of me with an Oscar. If I can find it I'll post it. It's kinda cute. In the meantime, here's Oscar.

Celebrating Sam's Life. Part 2

This is the second post about the day we said goodbye to Sam (the first is here). It may be upsetting to some people. But I've gotta do it. I want to remember it. Don't read it if you will get upset.

When we went into the chapel to sit down, I noticed just how many people were there. All the seats were filled, and so was the foyer, and there were also people standing outside the foyer and in the courtyard to the side. I can't explain but it made me feel good to know that Samuel was so well thought of. We'd assumed there would be a few people there, but it was also 4 days after Christmas, so we knew that many people wouldn't be able to come.

Teenagers shouldn't have to go to a funeral
I was really pleased to see so many of Samuel's friends and school mates there. I know it must have been very hard for them, but we had really wanted them there. We deliberately included certain parts of the service to make them feel more comfortable. Right from the start we were so aware of the impact Sam's death would have on them. We were of course devastated, but to a teenager, your friends are your life. To have one suddenly die with no explanation must be such a blow. When you're a teenager you're supposed to be invincible!

As we sat down, 21 Guns by Green Day came on. We hadn't planned it at all, it was pure coincidence. This was a song that Sam loved, and it brought almost everyone to tears before the service had even begun.
John stood up and began his introductions. Then Anthony and I stood up to read the eulogy. I hadn't known until about 1 minute before I stood up that I would actually be able to. But I was surprised that we actually managed to get through it without breaking down.
Then my Dad spoke, giving all the thanks to everyone (I can never repay some people for what they did for me, especially on that day, but I did want to thank them publicly). He spoke very well too (I don't know where we found the strength!)
Then Anthony's brothers got up. James shared his memory of the concert trip, and reminded us of Samuel's love of a good steak, Tim talked about tickling Sam so much that he vomited (well, Sam did try to warn him), Phillip talked about their trip to the zoo where Sam got to feed the tiger and then 'tamed' the llama. There was apparently a llama at the zoo that would never come anywhere near people, but he walked up to Sam and ate out of his hand. Sam got his Dr Dolittle-ishness from Anthony I think. He always loved animals and was very gentle. I'm not really all that surprised about the llama.
Christopher got up and tapped the microphone. "I've always wanted to do that" he said, and everyone cracked up, which was nice. He then read "Do not stand at my grave and weep" (beautifully I might add). He then decided to go off on a bit of a tangent about space travel and such, but because we're all used to that, we were able to head him off without too much trouble (Christopher has autism and occasionally doesn't realise when it's time to stop talking).

Then they played the slideshow. I'd put together a slideshow of photos of Sam (many of them I have put up here). It was set to three songs:

• Last night on Earth - Green Day
• I miss you - Blink 182
• Home - Foo Fighters

We chose the songs very carefully. We wanted them to be songs that Samuel liked from bands he liked. These three bands were right up there with his favourites (as you know Green Day were his 2nd favourite after The Living End, but we just couldn't find one by them that we thought fit the occasion, and that wouldn't be too loud for some of the 'oldies' in attendance).
One evening - I think it was some time around Christmas, I can't remember - Anthony, Oliver and I went for a drive in the jeep; out the back of Tharwa where Anthony used to take the boys (and me sometimes) driving. We listened to a CD James had made for us, and thought about which songs would go well. The Green Day and Blink 182 songs were on there. I had always found the Foo Fighters one very poignant (I think I'd even like it played at my funeral), and as I've mentioned before, Samuel, Anthony and I (and even Ollie a little) shared a love of the Foo Fighters.
As you can imagine, after the slideshow there wasn't a dry eye in the house, so Lorraine (nanna) did pretty well to get up and talk. She passed on a message from Jonathon (Anthony's son from a previous relationship) and then passed back to John. While they were speaking (John read a message from Jake, Samuel's best friend), the big group of teenagers (Sam's friends and school mates) filed past the coffin and wrote lots of lovely messages on it. It was such a nice moment. A few of our other family and friends came up and wrote messages too.

Then John gave the committal and the coffin was lowered while they played the song 'Time of your life" by Green Day. This song was one of Sam's favourites anyway, and it kind of fit the day. We were also pretty blown away when we found the chords for it (and nothing else) in a folder in Sam's guitar case. I'd heard him playing "Fire Water Burn" by the Bloodhound Gang on the guitar, but not Green Day. I think we made a good choice. Some of the kids were writing "hope you had the time of your life" on the coffin, and they have been on the mural too.

After that we went outside and it was just like before the service. Lots of people, lots of hugs, lots of tears. It was nice but I was tired and shell-shocked and just wanted to stop. So when everyone had sort of filtered off, we went down to the wake. There were a few people there, and I was pleased to see a few of Sam's friends. They were very nice and made my cousin Sarah (who was almost exactly one year older than Sam) feel welcome.

It was only when I got to the wake that I felt myself relax. I had a beer (the first in a week - believe me, I hadn't felt like drinking at all up until then!), chatted to people, at some point had something to eat, and had a few more drinks. We had Sam's music and there was a really good vibe (well, as good as it could be). We shared stories about Sam and drank (and even laughed a little) and I felt a little bit of the tension ebb away.

They say the hardest part is the days leading up to the funeral (the business end, as a dear friend called it). I think they're right. I certainly felt a little better when it was all done. And I was even able to sleep a little that night (just a little).

Crying

It is such a secret place, the land of tears.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince

Ok, so I'm going to tackle the subject of tears. I must admit that I have done a lot of thinking about crying and issues like what is the right amount, when is the right time, and who are the right people to cry around. But I haven't done much crying.

At first I thought there might actually be something wrong with me. I mean I'm the type of person who cries at a Huggies ad. Show me a good weepie and I'll be a mess. But tears for my boy? Not so much.

What is the "right" amount of tears?
Not long ago, I went to see a counsellor. One of the main things I asked her about was my lack of tears. Thankfully she told me that I was 'normal'. Other articles I read online (like this one, and this one) said things like "the tears will come" (which made me feel worse, because they haven't come yet, not in force anyway) and another said it was OK if I was dealing with my feelings in other ways (which I think I am).
Perhaps it's because Anthony cries a lot more than I do, but I just feel...I dunno...incompetent?

You mean you haven't cried at all?
No, I've definitely cried. On the day it happened I cried a lot. Today I cried. I had just finished an 'Aqua' class and was watching some teenagers muck around in the pool. I thought: Sam won't get to do that any more (or go to College, or have a girlfriend), and I cried right there in the pool. Just a few tears. And my face was wet, so nobody would have noticed.
That's something I should admit to, some of it is pride. When I do cry, it's generally alone, or with someone very close. Some it's definitely the fear of appearing weak, or not in control, some of it is not wanting to upset others, and some of it is doing it my way.
I definitely haven't cried as much as others, or, some would say, as much as "I should".
And sometimes I've really had to force (or prompt) it. I deliberately went and hired a bunch of 'sad' movies because I knew they'd make me cry. So far, so good - I've watched both "In Her Shoes" and "Marley and Me", and cried during both. Not normally movies I would seek out, but they were OK. The main reason I did that was because I was getting headaches every day. I know some of that is stress, but I had a feeling some of it was stored tears, and that I had to get rid of them. Perhaps it's quotes like these ones that got me started:

The sorrow which has no vent in tears may make other organs weep. ~Henry Maudsley

Tearless grief bleeds inwardly. ~Christian Nevell Bovee

And what would Sam think of all this?
I wouldn't say that Sam was an overly macho man in the making, but he was a typical teenaged boy and I reckon he would be decidedly uncomfortable with all this emotion on display. That thought is always in the back of my mind. He'd be saying "geeeez mum, stop bloody crying!" or try and tell a joke to cheer me up. That's the Sam I want to remember, the one who memorised half of The Family Guy (and could do the voices) and the one who said 'lol' instead of just texting it.


I said to my friend Ania today "I'd rather remember Sam and smile than remember him and cry". Hopefully it's as simple as that.


And finally, this is the lovely poem we received from good friends in a card in the days following Sam's death, which was read beautifully by Anthony's brother Christopher at Samuel's funeral (celebration of life). It's another nice way of looking at it.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

Mary Frye