You've gotta be grateful...

Today would have been Samuel's 18th birthday. So it's a sad day for us in a lot of ways, but I'm choosing to come at it from a grateful angle.

My brother-in-law posted a very important message on Facebook this morning. He said:

"I never knew how much I loved you, and the rest of the family until we lost you, it's a shame that it took losing you for me/us to realise just how important we all are to each other but to me that's your legacy. You have made me realise the true value of family and friends and truly what it means to love someone..."

Losing Sam was the most horrible thing that has ever happened to me, but (and I never thought I'd say this) there have been some positive impacts, and this is one of them. Samuel brought our family closer together and I have to be grateful for that. There is also the lesson I learned about balance, the value of not putting absolutely all your energy into work, and of taking advantage of every single minute you have on this earth.

Young mum

I'm also grateful for the things that I learned while Samuel was here. I was a new mum at 22; not young really, but young enough that I didn't know a lot about the world. Samuel taught me all sorts of wonderful lessons about being a parent, having fun, being humble, and loving someone deeply. I also learned funky things like how to play YuGiOh and teach a kid how to ride a bike and cook for a family and that I really wanted to be a teacher...

Most of all, I'm grateful for the memories that I have of him, the time we had together, the fun we had, and that he graced this world for a fantastic 13 years and 9 months. I regret that he didn't get to become an adult, but I can't dwell on that. I will remain grateful for him.

Happy birthday Sam, wherever you are...

As you know, Christmas is our tough time of year.
It didn't seem like this year was going to be any easier, those unhappy thoughts rise quickly to the surface, and you spend a lot of time dwelling on the anniversary to come...and the events that you're marking with that anniversary.

But the day wasn't too bad. We had the family and a couple of good friends drop in over the course of the day, as well as a few of Sam's friends. Always so nice to see them. We blew up orange balloons, wrote on the wall, and just enjoyed each other's company, and the good memories Sam left us. I won't say it gets better, but it is a little easier each time.

Then, three days later it was Christmas Day. Because my kitchen is almost finished, I decided that I wanted to do Christmas at my place. Oli helped me make some cool Gingerbread trees and shortbread, and we put together another awesome Lego tree:

This one even had lights inside!

We had a small group over: my family, Anthony's youngest brother James and foster sister Ange and her family. And despite the fact that I was preparing the meal, it was still a lovely, relaxing day.
Oliver was spoilt rotten (as usual!), including this amazing gift from his Granny and Grandad:

Lol.

All in all, a great day. I loved not having to race around the place (I always thought it was a bit crazy that we psych our kids up for all these gifts, then drag them away from them for most of the day!).

On Boxing Day I went shopping, as I always do, and bought myself a nice Kenwood mixer. And we looked at TVs, which got us thinking about renovating our lounge room. More about that next time...

The Heebie-Jeebies

No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear.

Edmund Burke

While we were on our holidays, like every good visitor to far north NSW/Queensland, we visited the theme parks. Movie World and Sea World were quite fun for all of us (with Sea World being our favourite), but Wet n' Wild proved to be most challenging.

As you may know, Wet n' Wild is a water park. Full of water slides. Big, long, fast, scary water slides.
And it just so happens that I'm terrified fairly nervous when it comes to those big, wet, winding beasts.
I don't know where it comes from, but I do know I've been scared of water slides my whole life. I guess you could call it a phobia.

Some of you may be wondering why I'd put myself through a whole day in this hell. Luckily there are other things to keep me interested. I love water, and there is a wave pool, a very cool kiddy water play area, and a cool 'river' where you just jump on an inner tube and float around and around. This is my idea of fun. And, I do like watching my family having fun on the slides too.

'Cause they do like them. Anthony loves water slides (though he will only go in the water if it's really, really hot outside); Sam loved them too (he had a fabulous time at our local - much lamer - water park with his school only a couple of days before he died); and Oliver is beginning what will probably be a lifelong love of them too (although, he does prefer the lower, smaller, slower ones at this point). Luckily for him there was a small slide at the caravan park we stayed in, and he had lots of fun on that.

This slide was also the origin of my downfall.
Because I went on it. Quite a number of times. And came to the conclusion that it was actually quite fun.

So when we got to Wet n' Wild, I naturally thought that I had been magically cured of my phobia. After all, I've successfully conquered my spider squeamishness and my up-high upsets (well, sort of - you probably won't catch me skydiving any time soon). This new 'can do, live for the moment' attitude I've manufactured over the past couple of years has certainly been a factor in these turnarounds, and I was all set to attribute my new water slide loving persona to it too.

How silly I was. I guess I should have seen it coming, but I was caught up in the excitement. People everywhere, warm sun (but freezing water!) and an excited family...
When we got to Wet n' Wild, we tried to take Oliver onto a fairly tame (I guess) slide first up. Pretty much a replica of the big yellow slides you get in the sideshow, except wet. We picked up our mats and were halfway up the stairs when Oliver baulked. We tried talking him into it, but he got upset, so we turned around and went back down.
Then we went for a walk and found the 'boat slide'; where everyone sits in the same rubber boat to go down. Once again, we got halfway up the stairs and Oli decided it wasn't for him (though he cleverly disguised it as needing to go to the toilet).

By this time, Anthony was a little frustrated, but declined to go off on his own, so we walked around a bit, floated down the river, went in the wave pool and had some lunch. Oli had a bit of a play in the kiddy park and then they finally decided they would go on a slide.

They chose what is probably the tamest and slowest slide at Wet n' Wild - a long, windy (but not too steep) slide set on a hill. I decided I would watch them go down.
Of course, Oliver loved it (Anthony found it a bit slow and lame), and it looked OK to me too; little kids and old ladies regularly popped off the end looking quite happy. So when Oliver decided to go on it again, I thought I would join him.

Well, I got all the way to the top of the hill, all the way to the front of the (30 minute wait) line.

Then I froze.

I saw the water gushing down, the steep(ish) drop at the beginning, and I couldn't do it. I even had a bit of a panic attack: quickened pulse, shallow breathing, nausea, even tears - though I managed to swallow them until I had successfully (yet sheepishly) made my way past the grannies and toddlers waiting to hurtle their way down.

I regret that I didn't just do it anyway, I really do. Because I didn't show Oliver that day that it's good to be scared but that you can have a go anyway. And deep down, I know I would have liked it too. But I didn't. Because I was scared.

Perhaps one day I'll be able to do it. But this time I didn't. Fear is a funny thing, isn't it?

What are you scared of?

Missing my boy

I guess the pain of losing a child never goes away, but the pain does tend to ebb and flow, and perhaps dim over time.
There are days when they're in the back of your mind, but so many things keep you busy that you don't have time to reflect on the 'loss' part. They're just a beautiful face in your mind.
Then there are other days when there are reminders everywhere. Little things that trigger memories, the sadness or the sense of loss. I've had a few of them lately.

And they're different too. When Oliver and I were in Melbourne, the things that we did triggered a lot of happy memories of Sam: Oliver getting the hiccups in the car reminded me of how Sam used to laugh until he got the hiccuos (poor kid, after a while, he curbed his laughter to avoid it!); or our trip to the aquarium reminded me of the time we went to the Sydney Aquarium when Sam was about 4. He walked out over the tank that was underfoot and completely freaked out when he realised he was standing over a fish tank. Funny stuff.

Most of it is brought on by things that happen to his friends or peers. Lots of them are doing things that really make me feel Sam's loss. It's the things that I know he'll never get to do. Some of his friends are getting into (and out of) serious relationships, many of them are getting their Learner's permits and getting accepted into colleges. And his best friend is turning 16 this week. For some reason, 16 is significant to me, I'd have liked to see Samuel at 16.

Don't worry, I'm not miserable, just having some of those moments where I feel it. Life still goes on, and we do all the normal happy things, but there's always that in the background. There are still times when people say stupid things when I feel like screaming at them about how good they actually have it, but I guess they're not as frequent either.

When it comes down to it, I just miss him so much.

Farewell to an old friend

On Friday night, our dog Merlin passed away.

He was nearly 17 (in human years), so he'd had a pretty good run. Still, it was a sad occasion, made bearable (and manageable) by some wonderful people.

The first of many...
I was 7 months pregnant with Samuel when we got Merlin. Anthony and I had been living together for a couple of months in our rented place, and we decided we'd like a dog.
We went out to the RSPCA on Boxing Day 1995, as we knew there would probably be some dogs out there. As soon as we saw Merlin, we knew he was the one. He was called Schooner then, but despite being told that dogs didn't take to name changes, he soon became Merlin (he got that name mainly because we were into wizards and dragons at the time. I guess we still are).

Merlin settled in well. Despite the fact that he was a large dog (he was a Labrador-retriever cross), he always thought that he was just 'a head' (as Anthony used to say) and could never understand why he couldn't fit on anyone's lap, or why only part of him made it inside.

He was very good with Samuel - very gentle and calm; taking all the ear and tail pulling that Samuel could dish out. Not once did he give us any reason to doubt his loyalty of Samuel's safety.

Merlin and Cheese
Not long after we moved in to our house here (March 1998), we got Cheese (Samuel named her - it was his favourite word at the time!). She has been Merlin's constant companion ever since (and just between you and me, she's a little sad at the moment).

Merlin and Cheese were not really inside dogs. They came in occasionally, but because they were usually filthy (I think I've mentioned before, our yard has a fairly large percentage of dirt/mud), they were mostly 'outside' dogs. But that was OK, because they had their own lounge suite. They tended to push the limits, but rarely stepped over them...

The Dangerous Dog
In about 2000, we were entertaining some friends. Their young son, who was 'entertaining' Merlin, got a scratch on his face when Merlin got a bit too excited. It was a bad scratch (with blood etc), and they decided to put in a complaint against him.

The Dog Control people confiscated him, and at first they were going to have him put down, but after having him at the pound (jail) for a while, they decided he wasn't really dangerous (just between you and me, they thought he was a bit of a pussycat. They knew straight away that he wasn't actually dangerous, but had to follow some kind of procedure), but that because of the incident, would have to be labeled 'dangerous' (the first Dangerous Dog in Canberra actually). We had to make some changes to protect the 'public' So we built higher fences and put a sign on our gate and then he came home.

Of course he wasn't dangerous. We had many other people (including kids) visit that didn't get 'attacked' by him, and kept a wide range of pets, such as chickens, rabbits, geese, ducks, rats, a cat and parrots, all of which were decidedly unharrassed by Merlin.
Actually, our house has always been a bit funny that way, our pets have always gotten along well, despite their natural predator/prey tendencies!

Merlin was technically Samuel's dog, and Samuel was usually the one who fed him, walked him and played with him, but Merlin's loyalty was firmly with Anthony. He followed him everywhere and did exactly as he was told by Anthony.

Getting Old
In the last couple of years, Merlin had slowly lost many of his faculties: his hearing went a while ago, then his sight, and finally all his muscle tone. He was so skinny you could put your hands together around his middle (this was despite his ENORMOUS appetite!)

After Sam died, Merlin definitely felt it, and was very low for a couple of months. We actually thought we might lose him quite early on. But he seemed to sense that it wasn't the right time; that it would be too much for Anthony to take, so he held on. Almost every night, while we sat eating dinner, he would stand at the back door and bark. At nothing in particular. I said that he was showing signs of dementia, but Anthony always said it was because Sam was there. That he was saying hello.

Time to Go
Just after we'd gotten back from Melbourne, Anthony felt that it was finally time for him to go. Merlin had gotten very listless, he wasn't eating or doing much at all. Anthony called our sister-in-law Rachel, who is a vet, who came over to have a look, and to help him on his way.
We were very glad that she could do this for us, and that Merlin could go peacefully, at home, surrounded by people that loved him.
All of Anthony's brothers came over, and his mum even drove all the way back from Sydney (she'd only just got there) to be with Merlin. She had a special relationship with him, as he lived with her for the 18 months that we lived in the granny flat at my parent's place.

So while we were all there with him, Rachel gave him the needle, and he let go. It didn't take much. He was definitely ready. I won't mention the prank he played on us all - let's just say the house stunk for a while...it was a very Merlin-like prank!

And how are we?
The worst part about having pets is when they die, usually because they go long before anyone else on the family. It's a hard lesson to learn, but an important one. Harder for Oliver, because he's experienced too much death in his short lifetime. He mentioned this (that many people/pets that he knows have died) a couple of times, and I really felt for him, poor kid. Still, I'm glad he was there with Merlin in his final moments, and that he understands that Merlin lived a full and happy life, and was put to sleep because it was the best for him. Let's just hope that's it for a while though.

Oh, and a final note - Cheese is now firmly entrenched as an 'inside dog'. We were conscious of  her close relationship with Merlin, and worried about her pining for him, so we invited her inside. Lorraine (Anthony's mum) came over yesterday and gave her a bath, and she has definitely taken to her role. She doesn't need to be asked twice to come in, and has a permanent place on a blanket in front of the heater. Ah well, she's old (she's nearly 14 now), and she's nice to have around.

What do you do when you don't know what to do?

My little boy is hurting. I think.

I told you a little while back about the tears when we told him Merlin was going to die (who, by the way, is still well and truly alive. And nearly 17 in people years!)

A couple of weeks ago, his teacher called me, and said he'd 'changed'. That he was 'flat', and not as chirpy as usual.  That he was regularly drifting off, and not snapping back to attention like he used to. That he was being a bit more 'silly' and 'naughty'. Mainly following others (how like my boys!), but still, somewhat out of character.

He's also lost some of his energy. He's more inclined to want to watch TV or play a video game than to head outside. Some of this is the horrible cold weather we're having at the moment, but I'm always looking for other signs.

Granted, he's been sick lately (the flu kept him at home almost a week), and seems to be still a bit flat after that (with big, worrying black circles under his eyes until a couple of days ago), but always in the back of my mind is that it's about Sam.

Which is fair enough, yeah? I mean, it's only been 18 months (last week) since we lost Sam. And Oliver was a lot younger then. I'm still having trouble understanding it, I can't even imagine how Oliver's processing it.

And the bizarre, tragic, pointless stuff doesn't stop either. Never do we get a chance to say to Oli 'everything's OK. No one's going to die today', everyone's OK.

Last week, a good friend of Anthony's mum was in a freak accident. Something you would never imagine happening. She's now on life support with little prospect of recovery (and no prospect of healthy brain function). Of course Oliver sees how this has affected his grandmother. How could he not? His cousin is also in hospital with complications (I'm assuming) from his recent epilepsy diagnosis. A kid in the class next to his has been in hospital for the last few weeks with collapsed lungs and goodness knows what else.

It's terrible that a kid so young has to see so much death. So much pain. So much grief. But how do you shield them from it? You just can't!

So what do I do? I told Oliver's teacher that I wasn't too worried if he fell a little behind. Which is kind of true. I've always thought that primary school was more about developing kids as people (social skills, communicating etc), so I can handle it if he's a little behind on his reading or maths. Plus I'm a teacher, so I can catch him up if necessary. But what can I expect from them in terms of mental health?

The school counsellor's not an option. They are only in schools once or twice a week, and Oliver doesn't really have an identifiable (by testing) special need, so it's not likely the counsellor will be able to do much.

She also referred me to the school chaplain. At first I baulked at that, because I'm an atheist, but she assured me that they had a non-religious approach to working with kids. So I'm thinking about that.

I think what I'll probably do is take him to my GP. Get him checked out - the full works. Perhaps from there a psychologist? I don't know.

But in the mean time, I've organised a special trip. Just for him and me.

In the holidays, we're going to drive down to Melbourne. We had a fairly nice time there last year, and I wanted to see my Grandpa, so I took some leave and decided to take him down. During our trip, I've booked a hotel near the city for three nights, so we can do some touristy stuff, like the zoo and the Tutankhamen and Lego exhibitions, and just hang out. The two of us. Days busy doing the running around, but nights at the hotel watching movies and playing cards. With no distractions. Just me and him.

Because a lot of how I react to Oli's situation is guilt. Guilt because I'm at work every day, and taking on study and gym commitments; which I know are good for my mental health, but I feel guilty about them because I'm not 'here' for Oli.

It's not like he's all alone. I mean, Anthony's here with him all the time, and he does a good job of it too. But still I have the guilt. It's probably not rational (and I know I shouldn't worry about Anthony thing, because he's not the same man that he was when he and Sam were in this carer situation - something I may write about one day), but it's there.

So to compensate, I do what I do best: overcompensate.

Still, I think it will be a nice trip. It will be nice for us to hang out, to talk (6 hours in a car together kinda promotes conversation), to do some mum/son things. I'm looking forward to it. I think he is too. Let's hope it helps. Even if just a little bit.

Sam and his phone

A couple of years back, I was sitting waiting for a meeting to start and checking my emails. I noticed there was an email from Sam. (I've spent the last couple of weeks searching through archived mail for it, but to no avail sadly).

In really really tiny writing, he told me that he had lost his phone at school. He'd only had it a few months - we'd come to an arrangement regarding the bills and he'd bought it on a plan.

Well when the story came out, it turned out that it had actually been stolen. While out on the oval, a kid had asked to look at it, and it was the last Sam saw of it. Another thing I found out later was that I knew this kid (I'd taught him a couple of years previously), and he was seriously messed up. It wasn't a surprise to find out it was him.

It said a couple of things about Sam too - that he was trusting enough (or naive enough) to let someone else take his phone from him, and that he didn't like making trouble. He'd sent me the email rather than reporting it to the school.

I went one better than that. I reported it to both the school and the police. They (both the school and the police) were very good about it. The police came around that evening and took a statement, but we all knew we'd never see the phone again.

So Sam had to make do with my old phone for a while. Because we still had more than a year's contract payments to go, I wasn't going to go out and get him another one. I told him that if he wanted a new one, he'd have to save up.

And save he did. He was very good about it. By Christmas (3-4 months later) he had almost enough. And when Christmas Day pushed him over the edge, guess where he wanted to go?
That's right, by 10am on Boxing Day, he had his new phone...

Of course, his run of bad luck continued. A couple of months later, he went to the coast with his friend Ryan, and managed to drop the phone in a salt water puddle. It was never the same again.

Still, he persisted with it, it did enough that he could still actually use it. But by the end of 2009 he was talking new phones. We even took a phone catalogue to dinner on my birthday to talk about the cool new phones we both might get.

We all know how that ended up...

It's amazing though how important Sam's phone was to him. He was never without it, and texted his friends well into the night (we often heard the telltale 'beep beep' at all hours).

And the phone gave us a little of Sam after he was gone. It sits on his shelf not doing much, but it's there if we need it. I've also left his sim card active, so that we can call and hear his voice on the voice mail ("Hi, it's Sam, leave a message") whenever we need to remember what it sounded like...

If this post looks familiar, that's because it is!
I don't know why this post has suddenly appeared at the top, as I posted it a week ago! Silly Blogger!

When I got to the gym tonight for my Sh'Bam class (a new one that is LOTS of fun), there were lots and lots of people there.

Then I realised why. My gym is part of a college, and they were having an open night. The open night that Sam should have been going to. I saw some of friends from a distance, and they all looked a little excited (well, as much as teenage boys trying not to look excited can look). I was intending to go in and say hi to Clint (who works there) but decided it would be too hard to be amongst that, so I just went to my class.

I know that Sam was looking forward to college. We had even talked about it already, way back when he was in year 8. I think he would have done pretty well in college. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd gone to uni either, as much as he hated doing his homework!

I miss my Sam every single day. But it's times like this that it hurts the most.

Luckily, I went to Sh'Bam and got very hot and sweaty and had a good giggle. It's all about balance, isn't it?

Oli Update

A few things have been going on with Oliver lately. Some of which have been keeping me from you. (I know you don't mind if it's Oli!).

The Thin Fat Kid

One thing that surprised me recently was a letter I got from the school. They had been doing this program called 'SmartStart', where they check the kid's health and fitness levels. Oliver's 'report' at the end was not what I expected. According to them, he is pretty unfit, and overweight.

This kid is 7. He's not a skinny rake of a kid, but he's definitely not obese. He develops a little tummy every now and then, but tends to run it off pretty quick. And run he does. He spends a lot of time running, because he actually likes it. So it surprised me to see that he had low levels of fitness and was int eh 90th percentile for weight for his age (I'd be interested to see what the 50th percentile is!). Mind you, he's also in the 90th percentile for height. Anyone else see a pattern here??

I'm not going to get too riled up about it, but it did surprise me. So he's now doing this workshop thing once a week after school, where they talk to the kids about health and nutrition and do lots of fitness stuff. He actually enjoys that (because he loves running around), but he has to do weird stuff like wear a pedometer and record his food and exercise in a diary.

I'll repeat. The kid is 7!

Good god! he has a hard enough time getting his shit together homework-wise (reading etc), let alone filling in a diary every second day.

Don't get me wrong, I think the concept is probably a good one. And there are probably many kids out there that don't have weight-obsessed mothers who do lots of home-cooking (including school snacks), insist on vegies as much as possible, and do emphasise good health choices regularly. But Oliver's not lacking in knowledge about healthy lifestyles. Yes, he probably eats more junk than some kids, but I don't know any of those ones!

Plus Oliver actually likes exercise. He likes to run. He often opts to come on my walks or go bike riding with me. He spends a lot of time climbing or playing with his friends outside.

I don't know what my problem is with this program, and maybe there isn't one. But if they start telling my beautiful boy he's fat and unhealthy. WATCH OUT....De Castella or no De Castella (Robert De Castella is the - apparently major health nut - who started the program), they'll have me to answer for!

The Emotional Kid
Oli's also going through another clingy/emotional stage. He wants me around all the time, and is back to cuddling up to me on the couch and giving me lots of hugs. He keeps asking me to take him/pick him up from school and gets disappointed if I can't (which unfortunately is fairly regularly).

On Sunday night, I told Oli that Merlin (our 16.5 year old labrador/retriever) was probably going to die soon. He had been pretty sluggish over the preceeding few days, and a couple of times we have not expected him to last the night (mind you, it's been very cold). Bless him, he's so old and has lost most of his hearing and sight, has dementia of some kind (he often barks at nothing at all) and has absolutely no muscle tone, but he just keeps on going. We were glad he hung on for a while after Sam died, but even Anthony is ready for him to go. Poor old chap!

Anyway, back to Oliver. When I told him that, he didn't say much. Just went out and gave Merlin a pat. But after his shower he suddenly burst into tears. He had to go back out and pat Merlin again for a while, and then came back and cried and cried. He then started talking about how when Merlin died, he would know 'four people who have died'. He named Anthony's grandparents, and Sam of course. Poor kid. So much for him to think and worry about. So much death in his short life.

Well of course we talked about how we make every day count, and how we love the time we have with people, and how death is a part of life and all that stuff, but I could see he was pretty upset. And probably not so much about Merlin.

Merlin's still with us, but we know he'll go sometime soon. Hopefully Oliver will be OK with that.

The Second Mother's Day

"Celebration" days like Mother's Day will always be a little bit tricky. Mainly because there are always reminders of Sam in them. Mother's Day particularly because what mother would want to celebrate when one of her children is gone forever?

But in the spirit of 'going on', which as you know I am pretty good at. I put the sad thoughts behind me (for the most part) ans set about having a nice day. Hope you don't mind a blow-by-blow...

I woke reasonably early, and looked at the photos of Sam on the wall, a bit of quiet reflection time before anyone else awoke. Get the 'sad bits' out of the way early.

I knew that Oliver had intended to get me breakfast, and sure enough when he noticed I was awake he came in and asked me what I wanted to eat. We've never really done breakfast in bed before (I usually am the first up by a long way), and I wasn't really hungry yet, so I told him to give me a while, thinking he and Anthony could sort it out.

When Anthony got up, he noticed that the gate was open, and was worried about Merlin (our 16 year old dog who does tend to wander off when the gate is open), so being the little bit of a drama queen that he is, he made a fuss and I jumped up with the intention of going to look for Merlin.
Who was of course safe in the yard. But by then I was up anyway.

Oliver had made me a nice card, with this message:

To Mum

Have a rily good muthers day and just rembr that I love you so so so so so mutch. From Oliver

Awwwwww! He'd also made me a poster with a picture of him on it and a door hanger that says 'Mum resting'. Very cute.



The boys also bought me a pair of slippers and promised foot rubs and massages (yet to be delivered).

We went over to Phil and Laura's for brunch, which was lovely. A very nice meal in the sunshine with some great company. Oliver came back covered in blueberry juice:

We lay around on the couch watching 'King Kong' and then I went out and did some gardening. I'm now waiting for dinner, as the boys debate what thy're going to do. I told them that I don't care - I'm definitely not cooking! Anthony doesn't really cook (apart from toast and heating up the odd pie), so I'm sure it will be interesting!

After dinner, we'll curl up on the lounge together and watch a movie. Then I'll get my foot rub and massage.

A pretty nice day I think. Only one thing missing....

Food, glorious food

Samuel loved his food. He always had a hearty appetite (like his mother), and it went straight to his hips if he ate too much (like his mother). But he had a real appreciation for food.

When he was a baby, I was a pretty rotten cook. I was also a shift worker and we were on a fairly low income (nothing new there!), so he probably didn't have the best of starts food-wise. My version of vegetables would have been frozen peas and corn (maybe), and we ate a lot of junk. Most of the photos from that time include hot chips....

What a terrible mother...

Anyway, I got better at it as time went on, and I realised that I'd actually better pull my finger out and cook nutritious meals EVERY day. Of course, that was when the battles started. Being the young naive parents that we were, we had the 'eat all your dinner or you get nothing else' attitude. It's not so surprising, it's what we were (sort of) brought up on.

I remember lots of arguments about rice. For a long time, Samuel HATED rice, and I cooked it at least twice a week. He would sit there stubbornly for hours, not eating it. He was great at being stubborn! (got it from his mother...and father...oh boy, he was doomed!)

There were a few other things he always refused: tuna (that was OK, I didn't like it much then either), mushrooms (he got that from his mother) and many types of vegetables. He did get better at trying things though. We started a 'you can't say you don't like it until you've tried it' rule, and nine times out of ten, he liked it.

But he really liked his junk. He loved all things chocolate (his nanna didn't help - when he was younger she often made him peanut butter and chocolate chip sandwiches), lollies (he was partial to sours, but would eat any type), chips (Wicked Cheddar Twisties), and all sorts of cakes (especially 'Aunty Sue's' cheesecakes).

He would often spend his pocket money on food - especially when he discovered new things; like the peanut butter M&Ms we found on a trip to Sydney (he bought a couple of $5 packs), and fudge or chocolate covered strawberries when we dragged him to the Bus Depot Markets.

So yes, he did put a little weight on as he got older. He was a little hefty from about 8 years old to 11. He was a growing boy! He loved his steak, and his friend Ryan got him into fish too.
He was trimming right down around the time he died, and looked like he would become quite tall and slim (and gorgeous of course!). He started eating better around the time he got to high school. Lots more vegies and less junk.

But it wasn't only about eating. He liked cooking too. He'd often make these delicious choc-chip biscuits that everyone loved - and that we haven't been able to replicate since - despite having his recipe:

He also really enjoyed food science classes at school, and would often cook us whatever he'd done in class that week. By his last year, he was cooking dinner for us at least once a week, which was really nice. I miss that a lot.

The Second Year

I've had a week or so of really missing Sam. Not constant melancholy or anything like that, but strong feelings of loss.

It started with the usual stuff - last Saturday we watched the broadcast of the Foo Fighters gig, which brought back those feelings of 'wish you'd been there'. Then on Sunday night we went over to my brother-in-law James' house to watch the DVD of the Green Day tour that he and Sam went to, just before Sam died.

Even though the DVD was shot in Tokyo, it still gave me a really good sense of what it must have been like, and I know that Sam would have loved it. It was his first major concert, one of his favourite bands, and it was a pretty awesome show from what I can see: lots of great songs, a real presence on stage, fire and special effects, sing alongs - everything you want from a good concert experience.
 As I said a while back, his main reaction was 'it was good, yeah', but I know it was a lot more exciting to him than he made out. Despite getting home from Sydney quite late, he still went to school the next day to tell everyone about it!
The concert DVD ended with 'Time of Your Life', which as you know was played while Sam's coffin was lowered at his funeral. So it was a bit of a sad moment for all of us.

Despite a busy week, there have been lots of little moments when Samuel was right at the front of my mind. I'm also seeing lots of comments from his friends about learning how to drive, which starts that ache again. I hate all these reminders that Sam won't get to do those things. Not that I begrudge his friends, it just hurts.

Then, on Saturday night, we watched the movie 'Tangled', which (of all things) set me off. As you probably know, it's an animated Disney movie about Rapunzel, so not they type you'd usually associate with grief. But there's a scene towards the end where the town sends a big bunch of lanterns up into the sky, an annual thing that marks the birthday of the lost princess (i.e. Rapunzel). For some reason, all I could think of was Sam, and the tears just flowed.

I've mentioned before that I've found this second year harder than the first. That's not to say that I am spiraling into misery or anything like that - I'm definitely in the 'testing - acceptance' stages of grief - but I am experiencing many more of the feelings now, that I expected, but didn't feel in the early days.

My best friend Sally and I were talking about it yesterday, and we decided that during the first year, we were so busy getting used to things, and going through 'firsts': the first Christmas, first birthday, first Mother's Day etc; that we didn't have time to think of the permanence of this. Not as much as we do now, anyway.

It is permanent. I'll never see him again. That's hard.

Don't worry about me; there are plenty of things to make me happy, and to keep me going. But it's important that I still document these things. Because I do miss him. So much.

How many kids do you have?

A very simple question, with so much meaning now.

'How many kids do you have?', 'Do you have kids?', etc...It's a standard part of any conversation between parents. And one that's easy to answer when all of your kids are alive.

For me, the question has changed forever. Because you have to answer it differently, depending on who is asking, and the situation. And because I'm in a new job, and meet lots of new people every day, the question comes up a lot.

Most of the time, I answer it truthfully: "I have two kids, one who died in 2009, and one who is 7." (or something like that). I don't hide the truth from people because Samuel is someone I don't want to hide from people. Why should I leave him out of conversations because he's not here any more? He was here for 13 years, and made a big impact on my life. I'm not going to ignore that.

But of course, answering the question that way usually means that I have to explain: how he died, how old he was, how Oli is doing, etc. Which I don't mind doing either.

But it's not always appropriate. Sometimes it's people I'll never meet again, sometimes it's part of a bigger conversation and there's no time for explanations. What do you do then?

Usually, I say "two boys" and leave it at that. I have even once or twice said "one son", but I didn't like the way that felt. Because I have two sons.

It's funny that a simple question requires so much thinking.

What a Bunch of Softies!

I don't think any of the boys in my household would ever be described as 'tough guys'. Oh, Anthony puts on a bit of a gruff show, but he's a big-hearted old thing. Just like my little boys.

Among many things. The three of them also have something else in common. PD.

PD is (obviously) a teddy bear. He hasn't always looked like that, but he has ever since I've known him. He was Anthony's when he was a little boy (sadly, I don't have a picture), and when Samuel was born, Anthony passed PD on to him. I can't find any pictures of Sam with PD either, but here's one of him asleep with PD in the background:

Samuel had lots of teddies as he was growing up, and PD was just one of them. As he got older, he became more attached to some of the stuffed tigers he was collecting (I'll tell you about Sam and tigers some day), especially one called 'Gritty Kitty', which is displayed on Sam's shelf in the lounge room.

When Oliver was born, Samuel decided (on his own) that Oliver should have PD. So he gave it to him early on. Oliver's got quite a few teddies too, but PD has become very important to him. He sleeps with PD every night,

and if he goes to stay somewhere else (even before Sam died), PD has to go with him. Even to hospital.
He was pretty attached to PD even before Sam died, but now he's even more so. He keeps the nightmares away and gives Oliver something to hold on to when he's having a more restless, worried night. PD's been a real comfort to him, and it's almost like a piece of Sam is with him every night.

It's amazing what one teddy can do.

Another Hurdle Jumped

An unexpected outcome of my wonderful trip to see the Foo Fighters was that we (I) had to face a bit of a 'hurdle' in my grief 'journey'.

As you know, Sam died while staying over at his Nanna (Anthony's mum)'s house. So as you can imagine, it's been pretty hard for me to let Oliver out of my sight, let alone let him sleep over anywhere (I still get up at least once per night to check on him).

He has stayed at my parent's place two or three times (they also spent each of those nights with one eye open!), but that's about it.

Of course Oliver is now at that age when kids start to have sleep overs. When his friends first started asking, even he was hesitant. We got around that by asking his friends to stay here instead. And they had great times when they did.

So last Thursday, even though we planned to go home after the show, we knew we'd get back too late to pick Oliver up from anywhere (we ended up getting home around 2am). So we decided to have him sleep over somewhere.

He ended up sleeping at his Nanna's place. This was a hard decision for me to make; not because I blame her for what happened to Sam, but because there was that tiny, very irrational fear about it happening again. You might even call it a phobia. I know it probably sounds very strange to you, but it was something I was having a lot of trouble with!

Well they had a great time together, and Oliver's very keen to do it again, so of course my fears were unfounded, but the fact that I let it happen it shows how far I have come in facing some of those demons that surfaced in late December 2009.

Why can't we all just...get along?

I read this morning that 10% of the people we meet will take an instant dislike to us.

I'm appalled! Everyone should just like me! I'm nice and friendly. Aren't I??

Despite the dramatics, cleverly designed to make you think I don't actually care, this concept does not sit well with me.

I like it when people like me. And I try very hard to be receptive: I listen carefully, ask questions that show I'm interested, smile, act politely and mind my body language. I hate thinking that 10 of the people that I've met in the last year don't like me.

I know, I know, it's a personality flaw, and a major indication of my insecurities and low self-esteem, but I'm always going to wonder now, especially when I meet someone new: are they one of the 10%?

Because I've always been a pretty good judge of character. I read people fairly well (or so I thought - I've obviously had blinkers on to the whole 'I don't like you' thing, but that's more denial I think!). I can usually tell if they're going to be annoying, or rude or quite lovely. I'll be on the look out for the hate signals now!

My kids have varying degrees of success with judging someone's character. Samuel, bless him, was just such a nice guy who didn't want to ruffle any feathers or make anyone feel bad. So he often hooked up with unsavoury types. The kind of kids who'd swap him something really lame for something of his (like the bloody kid who duped him out of his game-boy for a stack of footy cards - don't worry, we got them back!), or steal from him outright (like the one who stole his phone, on the pretense of 'having a look'). He learned his lesson though, and had built up a really good group of friends by the end.

Oliver's a little less tolerant. At the beginning of the year, he told me there was a new kid at school and that he really didn't like him. I'd never heard him say anything like that before. Well, this kid was the one that stuck a knee into his injured groin last week. So it looks like he may be a pretty good judge of character after all.

I'd like to think that I'm above making a decision about a person before I've given them half the chance, but the truth is that there have been a few people in my life that I've taken an instant dislike to. It's that whole 'they rub me up the wrong way' thing. For me, it's usually the people that just won't shut up. They are constantly talking about themselves, usually butting in on other people to do so.

I guess we all have things that irk us, and seeing those things in people are probably going to be the trigger for those negative feelings.

Have you ever taken an instant dislike to someone?

I see you everywhere

I see you everywhere Sam.
The blonde kid on the diamondback at the skate park.
The teenager with the AMAZING curls.
That guy at the shops with the same jacket.
In the CD shop.
At every school I visit.
In Oliver.
In my mind.
Sometimes.

Sometimes I forget what you look like, and I've gotta check a photo. I don't like that. I want you imprinted in my mind forever.

I think about you all the time.
I miss you.

A Sam Birthday

Yesterday ended up, once again, being a lovely day.

In the morning, we listened to a few Sam songs, and had a bit of a cuddle and a cry.

Around lunch time, 3 of Anthony's brothers turned up with their partners. We had a lovely hour or so chatting, drinking beer and eating the types of junky food that Sam loved (fairy bread, sweet chili philly, chips and lolly snakes).

A couple of hours later, a big group of Sam's friends turned up. By then, we had lit a fire in the backyard, and they sat around chatting and watching as Oliver and his friend cooked marshmallows (then, possibly because the bigger boys were prompting them - grapes, bread, tomatoes, they even tried a Tim Tam...)

After a while, Oliver got out a bag of water balloons that his friend had brought around, and all the boys (Sam's friends as well as Oliver, his friend and Anthony) had a fairly decent water fight.

My parents and Anthony's other brother came around as the water fight was winding up, and then, after all of them had left, my best friend Sally and her son Jack came over, topping off a lovely day.

Sam would have loved it. Good friends, family, great music (we played a playlist of his songs all day), yummy food and a water fight. A very fitting way to celebrate his 15th birthday.

We were very impressed with his friends, who not only had the idea to come over, took 3 hours out of their Saturday afternoon to spend with us, and then included Oliver and his friend in a game. They are such nice kids (I know I keep saying that, but it's true!), but then again, Samuel wouldn't have been friends with them if they weren't (I know, I keep saying that too!)

So if you're reading this, thanks for turning up. A couple of people didn't, because they obviously have some issues. But hey, it's their loss. We had a great day.

Wish You Were Here

For the last couple of weeks, I've been spending a lot of time at schools. Many of them high schools. In the months after Sam died, I reflected a little more on teenagers, and how wonderful they (especially Sam's friends) were. After yesterday's conference, I am utterly convinced that we're in pretty good hands. They've really got their heads together (most of them), and I know they will contribute a lot to the world.

But of course while I'm observing all this, I'm aching for Sam, and what he could have been. Sam was already showing signs of social conscience, good skills with money, and even some leadership qualities (he had an ability to bring all sorts of people together, mainly through his acceptance of all kinds of people). Every day I regret that I'll never see his life fulfilled.

Sometimes, it's harder to live without Sam than at other times. It's like the grief (or the feelings of loss) comes in waves. There was the horrible emptiness at the beginning, the absolute disbelief that he was gone. Then, we adjusted to that, and could go on with life a bit. In those times, it was a little easier, because we were busy getting on with things.

But now, it's the enormity of it. That he's never coming back. That he won't be getting his license soon, or heading off to University (I like to think that he would have - science maybe?), or finding his first love...

It's different of course. It's not as crippling as it was in the early days. I can still laugh and work and actually face the world (I didn't leave the house at all for the first few weeks). But it's there, in the background, jumping in every now and again. When I least expect it.

Today's Sam's birthday. Last year, we had a nice day with family and friends. This year, they'll come over again. But I'm not nearly as organised. Anthony is halfway through the kitchen renovations, so there's no oven and lots of mess.

But it will be a nice day, because we'll be thinking of Sam.

Happy Birthday Sam

Wish you were here.