This morning I heard people talking on the radio about what you would say to someone if you knew it was the last chance you had... You played it over "Somewhere Over The Rainbow"... I had to stop what I was doing, just sit there and listen, because Nana passed away last Wednesday, and that song was played at her funeral this Monday gone. So this is what I'd say to my Poppa, who is still with us, but grieving so much for his wife of 54 years...
Poppa, you are the strongest man. You may not see it, but with everything you, Nana and our family have gone through together, you have stood your ground and held us together as we crumbled. We are here for you now. I promised Nana that we would take care of you, help you cry and remember whenever you need. We're a part of her and you, and we love you.
I hope people realise the importance of grandparents, and take some time out to tell them you love them; appreciate all their funny ways, their stories and memories. Because once they're gone, a chapter of your history closes. Cherish every moment...
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Nana Ash
When I was first told of your illness, Nana, I thought "this is just your turn to be doted on". After my cousins, then Poppa, and Aunty Jan, you took care of everyone with no fuss, no drama. Just love, kindness, compassion, and patience. This was just your turn for us to return the favour.
The first time I saw you after you had been diagnosed, I thought you looked normal, healthy, just yourself. No sign or symptoms of the cancer growing inside you. We acted like a normal family, ate chocolate and joked with each other - no worries, mate.
Then we visited you at home, with Poppa fussing over tea and visitors; a constant flow as everyone wanted to see you, be beside you, hug you and tell you how much of a trooper you are. Stay strong, Josie, it may be terminal but you got a lot left in the tank.
After a few visits, I thought I could see a change in you. We knew you were in pain, we know you too well. You kept such a brave face on for us, but we could tell this thing was hurting you, and there was nothing we could do to take that away. We didnt know the extent of this thing, we had no clue how to deal with it. You stayed strong, but in your eyes there was a change.
And then we found the shadows, the tumors in your brain. All the while I thought you'd be OK, but I didnt know exactly what that OK would be...
We had a party, you showed up and we had such a nice time. There was our family, our banter, our silly conversations. Aunty Jan made eclaires, Poppa tried his best to steal them, give us a laugh. You sat in the corner with a headscarf on, watching over your family, not yourself - you havent been for a while. This will pass, we thought, and you'll be back to your old self. We were so thankful you made the effort that night.
You went up to the beach, to go home for a little while. I thought to visit you, but none of us expected what came next to come so soon. Your insides were so damaged from all this cancer, they started to give up. In hospital, you wanted no more drugs. In the middle of the night, you left us.
It feels surreal now. You were so lively, so alive, you did have so much life left in you. And now all I hope is that you made it down onto the sand, to be by the water.
Our strong matriarch, I miss you.
We love you, always will.
The first time I saw you after you had been diagnosed, I thought you looked normal, healthy, just yourself. No sign or symptoms of the cancer growing inside you. We acted like a normal family, ate chocolate and joked with each other - no worries, mate.
Then we visited you at home, with Poppa fussing over tea and visitors; a constant flow as everyone wanted to see you, be beside you, hug you and tell you how much of a trooper you are. Stay strong, Josie, it may be terminal but you got a lot left in the tank.
After a few visits, I thought I could see a change in you. We knew you were in pain, we know you too well. You kept such a brave face on for us, but we could tell this thing was hurting you, and there was nothing we could do to take that away. We didnt know the extent of this thing, we had no clue how to deal with it. You stayed strong, but in your eyes there was a change.
And then we found the shadows, the tumors in your brain. All the while I thought you'd be OK, but I didnt know exactly what that OK would be...
We had a party, you showed up and we had such a nice time. There was our family, our banter, our silly conversations. Aunty Jan made eclaires, Poppa tried his best to steal them, give us a laugh. You sat in the corner with a headscarf on, watching over your family, not yourself - you havent been for a while. This will pass, we thought, and you'll be back to your old self. We were so thankful you made the effort that night.
You went up to the beach, to go home for a little while. I thought to visit you, but none of us expected what came next to come so soon. Your insides were so damaged from all this cancer, they started to give up. In hospital, you wanted no more drugs. In the middle of the night, you left us.
It feels surreal now. You were so lively, so alive, you did have so much life left in you. And now all I hope is that you made it down onto the sand, to be by the water.
Our strong matriarch, I miss you.
We love you, always will.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
It's so quiet when it snows...
On a sunny Sunday afternoon, this place head towards winter alarmingly fast. You see things change - the clothes get darker, the boots come on; the food gets hotter; people stay indoors. No midday sun floods through my windows anymore, the sun is too low in the sky today.
And all i can think of is how much I miss my other home.
The landscape in the winter here is not desirable. We have no snow-capped mountains in this city, no frozen rivers, no crisp sunny days that makes everything resemble heaven - glowing and white...
On the days where it is cold enough to see your breath, and feel your face prickle with the cold, a bus can roar past and the moment has gone. Even on the coldest days in Salzburg, in the quiet mountain air you could appreciate these moments, as small as they are.
The people here dont greet you as you walk down the street, they keep their heads down and stay in their own world. I miss "Grüß Gott!" from shop owners and the smiles from people you dont know.
We wont be having any impromptu snow fights this year, or midnight walks in the falling snow. It's so quiet when it snows...
And all i can think of is how much I miss my other home.
The landscape in the winter here is not desirable. We have no snow-capped mountains in this city, no frozen rivers, no crisp sunny days that makes everything resemble heaven - glowing and white...
On the days where it is cold enough to see your breath, and feel your face prickle with the cold, a bus can roar past and the moment has gone. Even on the coldest days in Salzburg, in the quiet mountain air you could appreciate these moments, as small as they are.
The people here dont greet you as you walk down the street, they keep their heads down and stay in their own world. I miss "Grüß Gott!" from shop owners and the smiles from people you dont know.
We wont be having any impromptu snow fights this year, or midnight walks in the falling snow. It's so quiet when it snows...
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