Skip to main content

The waiting is over... Life goes on...

Every day people lose their loved ones, they slip away unnoticed by the rest of the world. People carry on with their lives, oblivious that a husband lies alone in his bed, his arms empty and his pillow wet with tears. The mechanisms of the world keep turning, unaware that a son can no longer confide his secrets to his mother, seek her comfort when he falls down, feel the warmth and unconditional love of her hand in his.

Even now as my heart aches for the loss of such an amazing woman, my life continues on. I help my children with their homework, I cook dinner, I talk with my friends, I laugh and then, as I remember, a heavy sadness and guilt falls upon me. How can I be laughing? How could I forget for even a moment that the world has lost some fraction of its beauty, that I can never again see her smiling face, hear her laugh, kiss her cheek? Shouldn't the skies be grey? The flowers dead? The laughter gone from the world?

But she wouldn't want that. She would want us to remember the good times, the stories we have collected in the lives she was a part of, the stories that make us laugh, that make us happy she was here at all. So when I catch myself laughing or smiling in these days since she left us I remember that I am laughing for her, for the beauty and the wonder that made her the amazing woman that she was. I am happy because I was lucky enough to call her my family and my friend. I am happy because everyday I choose to remember the example she set for those around her, that everyday I try to be a better mother, wife, daughter, sister and friend because of who she was.

I love you Carol, give your dad a kiss for me
x x

Comments

Post a Comment

Thanks for taking the time to comment!

Popular posts from this blog

I don't want to do this anymore

I am so over it right now. Everything feels hard. Everything feels shit. Everything makes me want to cry. I don't want to be a person any more. I don't want to be an anything any more. My children are smart. They get good grades, score well on NAPLAN, their teachers love them. Why then must they continue to do stupid things? I am so sick of a child running to tell me that so-and-so did such-and-such to me, I am sick of them hurting each other, I am sick of them destroying things, I am sick of them whinging, complaining, walking past rubbish on the floor, leaving shit everywhere, pretending they can't see the dog wee on the floor, having rooms that looking like the aftermath of a break and enter. I am sick of washing dishes, of sweeping floors, of the endless amounts of washing and folding and cleaning and tidying and cooking and planning and thinking. I am sick of feeling guilty for not being able to do those things that I should be doing, of feeling guilty that my husband...
7 comments
Read more

Confessions of a Fat Girl

I have been concerned about my weight and appearance ever since I was 12. I was teased in primary school for being fat and called names like porky. Here is a picture from my Year 7 Graduation to illustrate how fat and disgusting I was I say fat and disgusting because I truly believed when I was 12 that I was some hideously fat monster that no boy would ever want to kiss, no boy would ever want to go out with, no boy would ever love. It makes me so sad looking at this photo to know that I was so slim, so pretty, my life should have been full of wonder and possibility. Instead I began my journey down the long dark road that has led me to the depths of depression and an obsession with my weight (but thankfully never an eating disorder) and today it has led me to make this confession... I am currently the heaviest I have ever been in my entire life. I have eaten myself to the weight I never wanted to be. I am the exact thing I was teased for being. Along with the fact that I don...
4 comments
Read more

52Blogs: Voices and why I'm not really crazy

Quite often, when trying to explain my depression to people I use the phrase "my depression voice" or the "irrational voice" to describe the constant critic that lives in my head. Occasionally I wonder if people are going to take that to mean that I hear voices Beautiful Mind style or that I might start conducting a fight club with myself or talking to a giant rabbit. I can promise you that none of those thing are true, or are going to come true... well I might start talking to Frank but it's unlikely. However the truth is that I do deal with a constant voice in my head. The depression voice is always there, sometimes whispering quietly, sometimes screaming at me until I break. The depression voice is that arsehole that is constantly telling me that I'm not capable, that I'm worthless, that people don't like me. It's the voice that stops me from leaving my house, its the voice that looks in the mirror and tells me how ugly and unlovable I am...
4 comments
Read more