Mellow fruitfulness

It has been, sometimes, a relaxing and fun thing to have just Alex and me at home the last month.
From my perspective, that is: I can't speak for Alex.

And now we have Sophie back, just in time for her birthday today.
Yesterday Tim Smith (my brother in law) gave up a day's shed / office / mancave building to keep me company on the 10ish hours of driving to Opotiki-ish and back, where Sophie nearly knocked me over when I first arrived with the extreme velocity and therefore force of of a welcome hug.

We had a tour of the place Sophie has been living for the last month (Kahunui); a presentation from her house of 7; then a ceremony with the staff and all 26 girls in the intake, the first for the year.

Each girl was presented with her silver hawk (Kahunui is the big hawk) to wear on her school uniform, and had some words spoken about her, describing her Kanunui journey and encouraging her onward, by one of her staff House Leaders.

Sophie was described as seeming quiet, and nice, with a lovely smile - but that was all until her strength became obvious. "Who would have thought the quiet girl at the back would have turned out to be such a leader?"

At the end of the ceremony the award for the intake was presented - donated by a 100-year old benefactor as Kahunui was being built. The Glad (for Gladys) Thomas award, represented by a lovely commissioned sculpture, kept always at the centre itself. The girl's silver hawk is also replaced by a gold hawk.

The award is voted for by the girls themselves and the staff, for the girl who "has accepted her own challenges, has empathy, is understanding and supportive of her peers. She is helpful, puts the needs of others first, gives emotional comfort, encourages positively and stretches the hand of friendship to many."
Kind of a mouthful :-)

The award was presented to Sophie, apparently by an unusual and overwhelming majority.
A wonderful way to be encouraged the day before you turn 14.

Sophie loved her time at Kahunui, and is having withdrawal pains ...
I'm so glad for her.

Season of mists

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

Ecclesiastes chapter 3

Come 'ere, go 'way, come ...

Lost the ...
The what?
Can't remember what I was thinking.

Centering, Disciplined
Ready, Confident, Experimenting, Performing, Renewed
Resilient, Courageous, Failure-embracing, Humble
Easy, Comforted

Can't do it.
Considering the alternative, yes, we can.
I seem to remember a conversation with God (who was, unsurprisingly, also self) in the Bible like that. The answer was, yes, we will.
Then terrible things happened.
Which could somehow be borne.

I'm not trying to make an equation here. In any way.
Just observing.

As I haven't been here before, I don't actually know, just assume, there is a way.

Also:
Flowers. One. It only takes one.
Strength from my son. I only have one :-) . I am not Alex. I am Alex's mother. No one else is so lucky.
Gerald's birthday today.
4 months yesterday.
Scattering Gerald's ashes 19th March at Pakiri Beach. He is in my car. No he isn't. (Are you watching? Have you got way more interesting things to do? Are you waiting for me to get over myself and get on :-))
Picking up Sophie from Kahunui Saturday, Parents' day, long long driving.

International Human Rights (do they exist? Who will fulfil them? Will we hurt leaders who won't?).
Criminal law (we, Society, reserve the right to punish, following due process, those who have probably harmed others in selected ways).

Centering
Ready
Resilient
Easy

Time for a cup of tea.
Getting up in an hour.
It's very dark in the mornings these days, don't you think?

Reaching in and pulling up

I was sick last night (briefly) and Alex looked after me.

He is very cool.

Life happens

Feeling utterly condemned by myself ...

Which only I can fix ...

Still and all, I can only be part of the race if I am in it. It will be run with or without me.

I feel what I feel; the feelings are instructive, force insight, and threaten my capability.

Big news of the day: Gerald has gone. I keep thinking I know that, but emotions and common sense and simple facts aren't moving in lockstep.

There's an element of plodding involved here - but doing that for a long time is too horrible to contemplate, and not the kind of life I advocate.
Wait it out - experience tells me that things will soon change, and sometimes magic even happens.

Gerald has gone.
The unresolvable tensions and predicaments no longer need to be raised, resolved, or dangerously worked around.
The glorious contrasts can no longer be exploited.

There it is - the usual alloyed mixture of joy and despair.
Please bring me more!

Where is it?

Recovering, at least briefly (but fast and wonderfully) from a bout of welling despair.
I suspect the wish that it had been I, not the other, who had died, is a common one.

It hasn't been a thought thing, possible to control, but a wave of emotion rolling in, defined only in retrospect. Ah, not fair, no choice, I have been given the task of going on, and I haven't the resources?
Gerald would have been better at it, but we'll never get the chance to compare.
The barrenness.

Then, inexplicability, some energy again.
Sometimes only a tiny amount of a lovely thing or two is required.
A few moments with my son when companionship and mutual enjoyment of each others' company beckons.
How fabulous that could be.

A morning spent with friends, strong support, normal life (oh - and fresh baking!).

Gratitude for having a place to live, for not being so afraid of it falling down I have to sleep in the car (luckily the back of the Corolla goes flat, if the eventuality arose).
And for not having anyone close killed in the "New Zealand earthquake" as reported by the international press - unlike Michael and Jenny.

Tomorrow, first lectures.
Well into it today, fruitful work some of the time.
Counting down already, 14 weeks till 1st Semester exams (three, Privacy Law, Public International Law, and International Human Rights. 10, 15 and 20 points worth. Just reminding myself.)

I read something really useful in "Principles of Criminal Law" today:
"Unless one subscribes to some extreme form of Calvinism or other doctrine of the damned, guilt is not a state of being, a natural property. Guilt can be generated only in respect of something additional to what the defendant is; something for which she is accountable."
Hmmmm ... understanding the flavour of an upbringing can provide really useful illumination into lifelong tendencies. Thanks, Messrs Simester and Brookbanks.

Still not sure where it is (mojo, that is), but looking forward to tomorrow and not too scared of the rest of today.
That's a lot, I reckon.

I think you would say the same

Part of the newsletter from Kahunui:

...
Our first lesson on sustainability was a wonderful time sitting in the survival environment. We posed the question to the girls: how can we ensure Kahunui remains the same or better for their daughter in 24 years time?
...
The most valued house member for the week is selected by the girls. The criteria is the girl who has helped others, listened and encouraged the team and done her share of the tasks.
Parents&Friends:: Jessica Webster
Old Girls': Olivia Robertson
Wairaka: Sophie van Waardenberg
Tremain: Olivia Hay

On Tuesday we head out sea kayaking on the Ohiwa Harbour and tramping up in Waiotahi Valley.
...

Go Sophie! I think that is the same Sophie that was terrified to go to Kahunui as she feels (sometimes) she doesn't fit in; also all the teachers hate her and she has no real friends. Not sure, one of those 2 girls may be having me on?

I shall go to the Kahunui coffee morning tomorrow wearing my victory mamma outfit, all in green (the Wairaka house colour).
Golly, I scare myself sometimes.

Thinking I need to learn to be less afraid of myself. My children might learn by example that one has to succeed at something in order to be comfortable with oneself. I absolutely DISbelieve this, I had thought - till I noticed it's how I tend to live.

And people LIVE what they most truly BELIEVE.
I reckon.

Alex and I are having a discussion about getting-up agreements.

• Tiger parenting approach (absolute garbage):
  You'll get up at the time I say because I know best, you are lazy, and unless it's painful and difficult you'll grow up a spineless lump suitable only for normal life and you are better than that, boy!

• Dr Spock approach (passionless with a dubious assumption of complete reasonableness):
  I am neither timid nor guilty about saying that being able to get up at some reliably reasonable time is something that, to me, seems important, so do it. Please.

• Mr Spock approach (might suit Alex :-)):
  There is a definite pleasurable experience connected with knowing one is reliable. Purposely annoying your mother? Ah, yes, one of your earth illogicalities.

• US governmental approach (oh, were it only so simple):
  Yes, we can!

Outcome? Unsettled to the end of the forecast period.

And on the other hand

Perhaps the violent wounding will soon fade to a gentle, reassuring background ache - enough to confirm I am (I mean was) a caring, deeply feeling spouse but not enough to stop me from reaching out for new life.

Perhaps a new career will waft in, tempt, inspire and blossom, including a miraculous "unique to me" so that whenever possible I only do what only I can do - again.

Perhaps someone I know or meet will mesh with my interests, full-on-ness, quirks, wants and hopes so thoroughly that intersection brings explosions of intriguing joy.

Perhaps my children will be truly proud of themselves, their dad, and their mum.

Any reason why not?

Eyebrows

So three months has been spent mostly Being Available To My Children. I hope it was skillful gardening. The thing is, I'm not sure what the spring tasks are with regard to teenagers after a longish chilly season.

As near as I can tell, there is little immediate reward, and, lacking the satisfaction of knowing one is putting in the right kind of effort, one is left relying on ?good judgement cobbled together from similar tasks in different fields, or different tasks in the general field of contributing-to-adulthood. The advice of others is a little like that proffered on the first foray into parenthood - a well-intentioned conflicting tangle coming from a multiplicity of unexplored assumptions.

When to set boundaries? When to assert authority? When to (try to) force control? When to be glad for the good stuff and ignore the rest? When to stop and learn from them rather than insisting on what (it seems) must be right? When to offer unsolicited advice? Why isn't this easier? Everyone's questions.

"Before", we had a guarantee that a momentous unwanted event would, at some point, release the status quo of a demanding and severe situation.

"After", which is now, there is no culminating event. This is it. The loveliness, hassles, uncertainties, comfort, companionship, incompatibility, allowances, security, compromises, creativity, freedom and sweetness of Gerald&Lois are gone, not to be renewed. Along with a pile of tiny things that had become part of the fabric of a life - does unravelling now threaten?

Will it be this painful, on and off, for the next ?year, ?3years, ?10 years?

She left!

Nervously, excitedly, hopefully, a little fearful.

I took Sophie to meet her classmates aka live-in family for a month, and the bus to Kahunui (St Cuthbert's outdoor education centre, in the depths of the Bay of Plenty, 5 hours away, NO CELLPHONE COVERAGE!

All electronic devices (cameras, and laptops for schoolwork only, aside) are put away at a certain point in the bus trip, envelopes, writing paper and stamps the medium of communication to and from parents and anyone else outside, and stripy pyjama-like suits are given out to wear for the duration (OK, I made the last bit up).

4 houses (6-8 girls each) compete with each other in sports, budgeting, taking care of themselves (including waste disposal, cooking, and utilities management) and doubtless a pile of other stuff I'll hear a little about gradually and eventually, if I'm especially lucky.

Sophie seemed happily settled on the bus, quiet, alongside a chattering chirpy Harriet Henderson (fun to catch up with Mike, Harriet's dad, who I knew for about 6 years about 30-35 years ago at Valley Rd youth group, and Cheryl, his wife).

Do well, Sophie. Thinking of you. As you know. xxx

PS Sophie's latest poem "I Think You Would Say the Same" is another lovely one - takes some thinking about, though ....
http://sophiwophi.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-think-you-would-say-same.html

Can you taste it?

After more than 3 months, Thursday morning, on my very early quite big walk, I tasted it.

A whisper of lightness unencumbered by tragedy, grief or fears about the length or extent of the trip.

No special events, emotional or intellectual triggers, that I knew of. And nevertheless, as if by magic, ease slipped in with no drama, rather an immediate feeling of rightness and grace.

For a moment. At least.

3 months, 98 days - revert to London

It's one of those Saturdays.

Instead of walking ever-so-slowly up the driveway in the wake of a hearse in the still of a beautiful late afternoon, we'll be with my Mum's family in Cornwall park (co-incidentally).
And Michael and Jenny will be here for the evening, hopefully as a pleasant relax for them, as a contrast to the rescue mission they ran that first overwhelming post-Gerald evening of tragedy, relief and numbness interwoven.

But tomorrow a service of Remembrance will be held for Gerald in London, where we spent 12 years between the ages of 24 and 36 (both of us)
- and which I revisited in 2000 and Gerald (with the children) in 2007.

A link to the order of service is here:
https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&pid=explorer&chrome=true&srcid=0B0Eblq4mX93TNDFmOTAyNjMtNGQ3NC00Yzc4LTgzN2QtYjJjM2Q4Zjk4OGU3&hl=en&authkey=CNGqjMQF

And for a link to the order of service for the original send-on:
https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&pid=explorer&chrome=true&srcid=0B0Eblq4mX93TZjg5NWQyN2ItMzVlZC00MDI3LTkzZTgtMzExMGJiZDE3OGI4&hl=en&authkey=CIKhzqYM

Hurts.

Down and still in

Geralds of different ages are visiting, in varied succession, very visibly (to my mind's eye).

The smooth, sweet, unafraid though fearful (depending) boy.
The heavier (in spirit and in body) middle-aged man.
The luminous and beauteous shrunken body and warm humourous spirit of the last days.
The loyal, genuine, unselfish, loving companion.
The laughing youth of 30, carefree and creating.
And so on ...

Moving back into life from trauma. I was pretty sure that would be the hard part.
It is.
The normal travails are the real reminders of the life that has been and gone.

I want to curl up and not.
Not ... try. Not help my children with decisions. Not cope with their failures. Be granted extra time to deal with my own failures. Not help anyone else make sense of things. Be treated gently, allowed all the complexities that no-one needs to decipher but many could imagine. Be given some leeway to express grief in my own aberrant ways.

Too much already.

PS more tears come when a couple of beautifully timed and strongly positive responses to the writing arrive in the mail this morning. This is healing. A splint for the aching being, a crutch, a prop, not to be relied on, but a burst of energy enough to keep walking.
In trail running we call this kind of terrain a highly technical track.

If I could do the trail running, now that would help :-)

Astonish me!

Me, myself.
Me, anyone else I admire. Or must please or satisfy.

Why not?
Just another boring old reach-for-the-stars-you're-more-likely-to-get-to-the-moon trick.

So what? I love to feel energised, light, gifted, springy.

Extreme

Now I am a woman of a certain age and single, which can be good.
It feels vulnerable, and is as lonely as one allows it to be. Perhaps not at all.

Only - to get here, I had to watch Gerald, who I loved and knew, suffer, shrivel and die.
My children could hardly bear it.
And have the remembrance of a dad, but no actual live father.

That seems a little harsh.
For all four of us.

Alex 2011

Stunning, strong, capable and seriously amusing.
Scared, callous, aggressive and volatile.
Courageous and resilient, with a bitter-sweet intensity that will be the saving of and is a danger to others and, especially, himself.

May these be months, weeks, days, and years of recognising and welcoming the bigness, sadness and goodness for Alex, with exhilarating rewards for himself, his loved ones, and those in his slipstream.

Unbearably, Lightly, Being

Dancing - the skill and art of energy arbitrage.

Physically awkward, yet flexible, unexpected and delightful in his soul, Gerald was a dancer.
Where most of us plod, one measured, exhausted or excited step at a time - Gerald at his best spun and leapt, gathering others into the gusts and eddies of his energy.

"Plan when you can, dance if there's a chance."

The planning didn't get much of a look-in.
But there has rarely been such a dancer.

There and Back and Starting Again

Sophie and me to Sydney - an uneventful leaving on her UK passport and a visa for Australia (her NZ one had expired).
Sophie and me back to Auckland - an extremely eventful afternoon getting an emergency NZ passport (back into Sydney from the airport to the consulate, interview there, off to get passport photos, phone Qantas for docs to be faxed, back, for more talk at the Consulate, the promise of a passport, drawing breath -
- and the magical appearance of an actual emergency passport.

So's Sophie could come back into NZ, a privelege which, apparently, she would otherwise be refused.
Back to the airport, and a ne'er-so-well deserved sit down with the rather pleasant, fresh, delicious Qantas lounge food.

The showing of Sophie to be the real thing - calm and cheerful after a brief explosion of emotion, almost running around, no complaining, stamina, everything required to manage an unexpected rather big woopsie.

Fantastic.

Experiences of Coogee, Manly * 2, swimming, walking along the clifftops, shopping, the ferry, the movies in the heat of the afternoon, finishing Harry Potter for the 35th time, the Sydney classic snack/meal (lemon/lime/bitters or beer + wedges, sour cream, sweet chili sauce), a meal at the pub Gerald had particularly enjoyed (outside in the garden), lovely thick starchy hotel sheets, Darling Harbour, The Rocks, a new dress, vegemite toast, hot, hot weather.

And home to Alex's results.
He was relieved, perhaps, apart from a disappointment in maths.
Passes in everything, an A for IT.
What I would like? For Alex to enjoy the learning for its own sake, and to relax into a year without undue emotional stress.

A huge,, huge tree branch broken in the storm, fallen onto the roof of our porch. Insurers coming - but not till next week in this torrid claims environment. Andrew had done me another favour and part cleaned it up - enough that it was a manageable disaster. More nice things done by caring people.

Alex is back at school.
Sophie starts next Wednesday.

Loving the challenges.

Phases

And as the pain recedes, the loneliness moves in.
Not the lack of people, rather the sadness of not sharing.

And I wouldn't feel this, had I not had the gift of being able to share, already.
Not everyone gets the chance.

So much good luck / blessing / fabulous life / incredible experiences.

3 days in January

3 days without specific responsibility.
Very good. Important.
At least 2 days, once a month.
See if it is possible.