This is what it's all about...

A couple of posts ago, I wrote about the changing face of my grief, and how some of it was accompanied by guilt.
I got a couple of wonderful responses that I wanted to draw your attention to. Click here to read them.

When Sam died, people kept saying things like 'it will get easier' or 'in time you'll fee better'. At the time, I thought that it couldn't possibly be true, that the incredible pain and shock that I was feeling would be with me forever. That I'd always have trouble functioning (doing the 'mundane' things, as Susan mentioned in her comment), and even that I'd never want to face the world again (I had a very hard time leaving the house at all in the first month or so after Sam died).

As time went on, and things didn't hurt quite so much, I started to think that maybe we'd be OK. But there was that guilt about the good days, that if I showed people I was OK, they'd think I'd forgotten Sam.

Now, I know that I'm going to be OK. Better yet, I know that (most of) the people around me are too, especially Anthony and Oliver. There are still those guilt moments, but they don't happen so often. I could even see myself saying those very words to someone else going through this: 'it will get better in time'.

It does get better in time. I guess for some people, that time might be a little longer, but it does get better. And even though we've tried hard all along to keep Sam's memory alive, now it is even easier, because we don't feel that extreme sadness when we do talk about him. We can laugh about the great memories we had, we can smile when we think of what he did for us.


So what next?

The purpose of this blog in the beginning was to document my grief, and share my memories of Sam. I still have a few of them to share, so I will continue to do that. I'm sure there'll also be some times when I'll need to write about the grief too. But I hope you don't mind if I branch out a bit.
I love to write, and I'd like to use this space to write about a whole range of things. It will mean the blog is a little different, but I hope there will still be enough to keep my wonderful readers interested. I'd love it if you could stay with me.

A Whole Year...

I haven't posted for a few days. It's been a busy time: I had my birthday last Thursday (which was nice - I started a post about it but never finished, perhaps I will some time), and I've been getting ready for tomorrow, and Christmas.

Tomorrow, it will be one year since Sam left us so suddenly. I can't believe how quickly the time has passed. I still have moments of not believing; of thinking he'll walk through the door any moment. I know he won't, but something keeps me wishing.

I thought I'd be more upset, but I guess it's just me. I'm sad - no more or less than I was before, but I'm not crying much (still). We'll see how it is tomorrow.

Right from the start, I vowed that I would not wallow in grief. I would allow myself to be sad, but I would honour Sam's memory by being positive.
I think I've done that pretty well, and I feel good for it. I think it's helped the people around me too. It doesn't mean that I have lots left to help others through their own grief/problems, but it has meant that we can remember Sam in positive ways.

Tomorrow will be no different. We have invited people over - anyone who remembers Sam and would like to spend some time sharing memories. I've called it 'Celebrating Sam Day', and it will hopefully be full of good food (I've got together some Sam favourites - he did like food!); great company and good memories.

I do plan to write about it at some point. Bear with me for a couple of days, because I've got to work Thursday and Friday, and then it's Christmas. I'll post about the day when I can.

Before I go though, I wanted to thank you once again, dear readers. As you know, this blog has been an important part of my journey through grief, and I have been blessed to have your support along the way. I don't know where my blog will go from here, but I do know I'd like to keep writing it. I hope you'll stay with me.

Thanks again. 

My first post was about blogging: Should I do it? Will anyone read it? It feels like such a long time ago, but believe it or not, it was only four and a half weeks ago that I set off on this blogventure.

So, dear reader, 34 posts later, what do you think?

For me, it has been such a great way to deal with all the stuff that's been going on. When I'm writing I can process things; I can link things together; and (the best bit I reckon) I can include photos, videos and sound. So much better than a diary! It's been quite therapeutic too, I honestly believe I've gotten more out of this than I would have from 5 weeks of counselling.

Powerful Words
Today, I received a beautiful letter and card in the mail box (thank you beautiful friend - you know who you are!) Coming after some of the lovely comments I have received from people about this blog, it confirmed for me that I have been doing the right thing. I mean, this blog has been great for me, but to know that someone else has gotten something out of it too, that's very special to me. That they took the time to tell me how they felt was such a wonderful gift. It made my day!
The letter also said that my blog would gave them ideas about how to help loved ones experiencing loss. That really made me feel good. (I've got to work out how to say this without sounding terribly conceited, and I hope I don't come across that way), but I feel most happy when I know the people around me are too. If I can make someone more comfortable, make them smile, solve their problem, teach them something, then I feel like I have achieved something. It doesn't have to be Earth-shattering, and it certainly doesn't happen all the time, but it is one of the ways I find fulfillment. Conversely, all the times that I have been powerless to help really bring me down.
So to hear from one person that the words I write here have made a little bit of difference, well that makes me feel great! Thank you again. xx

So I think I'm going to keep writing. I hope that I can find the time, now that I am about to return to work, and maybe I won't post as often, but I'll definitely keep it up. Hopefully I can keep it up well.

The Power of Friendship

Friendship isn't a big thing - it's a million little things. ~Author Unknown

Ok, I know the title is hokey, but I'm sure you get the idea.
I've just spent another lovely few hours in the company of friends. We have a wonderful family, on both my side and Anthony's side. They have been so wonderful through all of this, and I will talk about them another time. Today I'd like to talk about friends.

For the past few weeks, with the exception of last week, we have been joined by our friends (and sometimes members of our family, who also happen to be friends) each Sunday afternoon. We drink (wine, bourbon, beer, water, coffee, etc), eat cheese and crackers and other lovely things (today our wonderfully gourmet friends brought some lovely trout and caperberries. I'd never tasted them before, but they were goooood!), and we sit and talk and laugh. It's almost become a tradition!

Today, my best friend Sally came over with her son Jack. We started at midday (it was 5 past 12, so it's technically afternoon!) and had a good gossip and a drink. A little while later our good friend Dallas arrived, then our friends Kylie and Gordon and their kids. Not long after that Trevor arrived. Not everyone stays the whole time, but while we're all together we have great conversations and everyone gets along, no matter what the background, or whether or not any of them have met before.

There's something very healing in that. I've always been a people person anyway, and my idea of a good time involves great conversation. It's also very nice to have the company. I think when you're grieving, there could be a real risk in withdrawing into yourself; blocking the world out. And we were probably tempted to for a while too. But there were people that kept calling, kept dropping in and making sure we were OK.

In the week leading up to Samuel's funeral, there were always lots of people around. It was nice, but in a way, a bit overwhelming. In the week after, there were a few, and then the week after that, almost nobody came around. It was a little scary, a little lonely. When we were here alone, the reality of what had happened was almost too big, too much to bear. Then people started to come around some more. It wasn't a constant, seemingly never ending flow, but it wasn't nobody either.
Before Sam died, we probably weren't the most sociable people. I was always so tired (physically and emotionally) by the end of the week (one of the few downfalls of the teaching profession), and we've never really had the disposable income you need to go out and socialise regularly. I was also pretty happy to spend time with my kids and Anthony. I do love people, but most of the time it seemed easier to see them here. I didn't have to organise babysitting, there's plenty here for kids to do (well, boys anyway). It sounds selfish, but when I couldn't do things here with people, I didn't tend to do it at all, unless it was something really special. When I think of it, I guess that's fairly normal in our busy world.

That's another reason why it's been great that people have come around. The casual nature of the Sunday afternoon thing means that people can drop in for a little while, or for longer. It's been so good to to see people, do some normal things, and not have to go too far from the little comfort zone we've got going on here. And it's not like we don't think about Sam, or talk about him; we do. On our terms. We talk about him, we share memories, we get upset, but we also talk about other things. And laugh.

But just because we're enjoying our Sunday afternoons, it doesn't mean we're never going to leave the house. Last weekend, I went out on both Friday and Saturday night with some of my oldest friends. Mark and Donna live in Melbourne now, and came up for the weekend just to catch up with friends. On Friday night we sat outside King O'Malleys with our other old friends Gerard and Toby (and his partner Swapna) for a very long time drinking beer and talking. I drank WAAAAY too much and ended up with a sore head, but what a great night it was.
On Saturday night, all of us, as well as Anthony, Helena, Geoff, Tan and Kris (who was visiting from the U.S) went to dinner at Chairman and Yip (then move on to some other places), and once again had a lovely evening.

The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart. ~Elisabeth Foley

The great thing about these friends, is that it doesn't matter how much time passes, when we get together it's like we've never been apart. I haven't seen Mark and Donna since my 35th birthday party at the end of 2008. I haven't seen Gerard since October of the same year. But we had a great night. And they have been there for me, supporting me, through this whole time.

I'm not real good at the whole friendship thing. I like people, and I like spending time with people, but my problem has always been that I like knowing lots of different kinds of people. It was a problem at school because at school you're supposed to have your core friends and spend all your time with them. It's a problem now because I don't have the time to devote to maintaining these friendships. Life gets in the way, doesn't it?

So against all the odds, I do have a few fantastic friends, some of them I only see once a week or once a month or once a year or once every 5 years, but they are true friends. And in some ways it's thanks to them that I can see some good left on the world. That I can see we can still have some fun and not feel guilty about it.

So thank you, to the friends who have been there for us. Thanks to Sally and Dallas and Meg, who were so wonderful in the first week, and have continued to be caring supportive friends. Some of the things you did for us were so above and beyond what a friend should have to do, and you did them without question.
Thanks to all our wonderful friends who sent cards and messages and came to Samuel's funeral. If I haven't sent you a card yet, I will. Thanks to Aamund, and Keiko, who helped Dallas and Meg support us. Thanks Keryn and Brian for lending us the camper trailer. Thanks Paul and Mahala for sharing the camper trailer and helping us get it organised. Thanks to Trevor and Adina, who have been here keeping us company and sharing their beautiful Izzy. Thanks to Jodie, who went out of her way many times to feed us, cheer us up, give us things, especially the dragonfly (another story for another day). Thanks Carmen for being so supportive and helping out, even when we haven't seen each other for so long. Thanks Maree for being here for us when you and Jake and your family were grieving as much as we were. Thanks to Lani and Vickie and Kathy who have always been there for a chat and a laugh (and to show me their wedding photos). Thanks to Jane for sending me a card (from India!) and coming to see me. Thanks to Kris for sending flowers from California (no Australian customs, she didn't actually send them from there), and for coming out to dinner last week. Thanks to Phillipa and Jason for being there for us, and for calling to check up on us. Thanks to Kylie and Gordon for feeding us, but also just being there (and for a great afternoon today!) Thanks to Donna and Mark for travelling all the way from Melbourne to Canberra to see us. Thanks to Gerard, Toby, Swapna, Geoff, Helena, Tan and Kris who came out for a fun night in the town. Thanks Deb for your messages, your constant facebook/blog support and for bringing your beautiful Emily over to see me. Thanks Michelle for the lovely 'I love you'/'I'm thinking about you' messages. Thanks Ania for the company and the ice coffees. If I've forgotten you, I'm sorry. And if you're in my family, don't feel left out. I'm trying to work out how to say all the things I want to say to you.

Without you all, I hate to think where we'd be. Thanks.

Dear Reader,

Well thank you.
What a lovely response I've had so far. It's encouraged me to go on.
I talked to my friend (my rock) Sally today, and she said if I was going to blog then I should be completely honest and write down all my thoughts. I had a feeling I should be doing that anyway, but it's always good to have some confirmation.
But this is a sensitive and tricky subject, so if you're reading this and see something that you don't want included, please let me know. I thought about changing names, but I'm not really sure what purpose that would serve.

I've showed it to Anthony, and while it's probably hard for him to read some of it, he agreed that I need to grieve my way, just as he needs to grieve his way. From the beginning we made a pact to communicate and respect each others needs. Communication hasn't always been our strong point, but after 15 years we're kind of working it out. Anyway, while public sharing might not be his style, he has given his blessing for me to do so. Thanks my love...

Be prepared for an onslaught during these first few weeks. I've got some time off work, and Oliver's gone back to school. And this is going to be a major part of me remembering and getting stuff together for some tangible memorial items (scrap book, photo book etc - more about these later). I really don't mind if you don't read every word, but a nice comment (like the lovely ones posted so far) would be really lovely, just to keep me going.

Thanks again...