Archive for March, 2011

Dear Darl, it’s March 30, 2011.

394 days….

Lock-down drill at school today saw Shelly and I sharing the storage room with our least favourite teacher and 21 hot, stinky Year 7 kids.


Even better when the stupid young teacher thought I should squat down to be more out of sight (for 10 minutes  –  I think not).  I couldn’t sit down as there was not enough room on the floor … I would have done this.

But squat? no way.

So I stood up.  Still out of sight.  Citing a non-existent dodgy knee.


I’m glad I knew about it and warned K&H it would be on as the alarm is quite loud and scary.


In other news, I stayed at school all afternoon and hear all the year 1s read from H’s class.  I have to say that he is really quite good.  … and he *likes* reading which is even better.

Then Mum took the kids out to buy my birthday present.  I shall see the delights of the $2 shop tomorrow.


I must be more stressed than I think I am….

…I’ve had acne rosacea break out on my chin on Feb 27 … and linger.  The face wash and acidic cream are not helping it much.

I only get this when my body is stressed, but my mind tells me I’m OK.

The first time was during Honours year at Uni.  It cleared up (finally) when I took a course of antibiotics for some other infection.

The second time was 6 weeks before we were married.  The &^*( old doctor I saw in the small town where we lived was very unhelpful … but luckily the local pharmacist (and neighbour) was much more accommodating and my face was blister-free within days.

Then I got it when I was pregnant with H.  The pregnancy that followed the miscarriage at 10 weeks.  The pregnancy when I was stressed out of my brain that *something* would go wrong.  No antibiotics that time…

Then nothing until now … a year after you died.

So while I really do feel OK in the wider scheme of how completely horrible this year has been, my body obviously is not feeling the love.

I have a few blisters on my chin and just as soon as one lot heal, another lot bubble up.

I’m persevering with OTC cream, but fear that I may need the dreaded antibiotics before much longer…


A hug from you would fix this.

I know it.

I need you.

I miss you.

I love you.



393 days…

Dad’s birthday greetings were sung down the phone this morning – K on piano and H singing.

We will celebrate together on Thursday night … I think Mum is worried that I won’t celebrate my own  birthday so she has invited us there for the combined dinner.

Except this year, I won’t get a cake with a bit cut off the side from Dad’s birthday….


We are all getting tired.  This is a long term – 12 weeks.  All the kids are grumpy, ratty and their behaviour is deteriorating, reflecting their exhaustion.

That’s the tiring thing about teaching …. working with about 25 personalities in various stages of tiredness.  I swear some of the kids don’t’ sleep at home and come to school tired, hungry and very, very grumpy.

and sick.  So many kids at school who look like death slightly reheated.

…and teachers dropping like flies with flu.

I hope I don’t’ get sick too….


I miss you.

I love you.


Dear Darl, it’s March 28, 2011.

392 days…

I took the kids shopping for Dad’s birthday present this afternoon.

We chose from the $2 shop – why break with tradition.

I also know that Mum is planning on taking them to this shop on Wednesday afternoon to buy *my* birthday present.

So I was able to warn Mum NOT to let K but the waving,  solar-powered  golden cat for me.  The same one K wanted to buy Poppy, but which I managed to talk into some stickers and some chocolates.

Mum knows that I saved her from that golden bullet that would sit proudly amongst the 20-year-old dancing sunflowers that wiggle when you clap.

Oh wait…. they aren’t at Mum and Dad’s place… they are here.

They are YOUR god-damned dancing sunflowers that keep reappearing despite being hidden countless times.  The sunflowers that I hate, yet cannot bear to throw away because they were YOUR god-damned dancing sunflowers.  With sunglasses.

They don’t need to be joined by a kitchy cat.



I don’t really want my birthday this year.

In lots of ways, it will be harder than my birthday last year when I was still in such a fog of grief  that I liked the surprise party my friends organised.

The party to replace the actual, swanky, grown-up party that I had planned.

The swanky, grown-up party I had to cancel.

I’m not in that fog anymore … but the thought of time marching on without you is unbearable.

Yet I can’t wait to be as old as my 94-year-old Nana who is now so weak that we expect her to leave any day now.


In her sleep.

Not ripped violently in half (if my nightmares are to be believed).

…and when she goes, I want butterflies and rainbows.

I want *something* that says that she is at peace and wants us to know it.

…and please can she NOT die on my birthday.

I miss you.

I love you.



391 days…

Mum is home!  YAY!  It was so lovely to see her today.  She is my rock and I don’t know where Id be without her.

Aside from that, the day was ….OK.

Life is just …. OK.

Going in circles.

The circles are not-traumatic.

They don’t hurt so much.

But they go on and on without end.

I miss you.

I love you.



390 days…

I’ve been avoiding cleaning the kitchen today.

I haven’t been idle .. no …

I’ve washed the car.

I’ve cleaned out the garage.

I’ve weeded out the Poinciana seedlings.

I’ve cleaned out the chook cage.

I’ve pulled up pavers and I’ve backfilled with rubble.

I’ve hung out two loads of laundry.

I’ve taken photographs.

…anything to avoid being *inside* on such a nice day.


Speaking of photographs … this is my pic of the day:

Red Rocket on 365 Project

I believe you may just recognise it as the car you found at the dump when you were about 20. The car you brought it home and did it up for your nieces and nephews … and then it sat at the farm in the sun for another 20 or so years until we had our own children.
Our kids have great memories of playing in this car with you….

I miss how much you loved fixing things like this up.

I miss your excitement over a “dump find”.

I miss you.

I love you.



Yes I mean YOU!

I looked on my little map thingy at the side of this page and noticed that you sometimes drop in to this little blog.

I’ve been watching the hits from that little dot on the map and they were at the same number for a while After the earthquake and I have been worried.

But today I looked and am so glad to see more hits from that little dot on the map.

Just wanted to let you know that I’ve been thinking of you, whoever you are.



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389 days…

As I write, GC is in the garage, replacing my broken radiator with a new one he sourced for me this week. Instead of costing $395 to have the radiator replaced at the local repair shop (this was the BEST price), GC has replaced it with a new one which has cost me $150 (the actual cost of the radiator).

…and this morning, he left for work and will continue home, and won’t be back again for a while….

So while the last month has had its ups and downs … and a lot of tongue biting from me … by the end of it, we were getting on OK on all things EXCEPT the elephant in the room (the farm) although I think he knows my thoughts on that now.

I’m glad he’s gone, but at the same time, I’m glad he was here.

Shocking, I know.


K did a stellar job in her maths test from a few weeks ago (I peeked at the scores).  She’s in the top bracket which should mean that she’ll be in a good position if they stream the maths classes next year.

…and H!  *I* had to make his “moving toy” project this time … no Daddy to help with that…. and he blew them away with his hovercraft.  It didn’t hurt that he’d seen me make one before, but he knew why each part was needed and could explain the forces (push) and energy (kinetic to elastic potential to kinetic) to make the toy move.  …and his design was spot on.


But none of this stopped me from having a Big Ugly Cry before I sat down to write this….

For some reason, I was struck with the sadness that you wouldn’t be at the big events in the kids’ lives.

You wont’ be at primary or high school graduation.

You won’t see them achieve their ambitions.

Get their license.

Their first car.

Graduate from uni.

Fall in love.

But mostly that you won’t walk K down the aisle when she gets married, you won’t give H a congratulatory hug when he weds, and you won’t be able to smell the heads and snuggle tiny grandbabies.

…and yes, I can *hear* you accusing me of  “being my own grandmother” but you know how I like to plan ahead!

Maybe they’ll choose different paths, but you’ll miss those too.

You’ll miss it all and I’ll have to do it all by myself.

and that sucks.

I miss you.

I love you.


388 days…

I read a poem just now.

The exact right words for me to read today.

I needed these words.

I need to believe them.

I know that they must be true….

After a While

After a while you learn
The subtle difference between
Holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t always mean security.

And you begin to learn
That kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes ahead
With the grace of a woman
Not the grief of a child

And you learn
To build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is
Too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way
Of falling down in mid flight

After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much
So you plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers

And you learn
That you really can endure
That you are really strong
And you really do have worth
And you learn and you learn
With every good bye you learn.

Veronica A. Shoffstall

Thank you for showing me this today – I needed to see it.

I miss you.

I love you.


Dear Darl, it’s March 23, 2011

387 days….

I heard about another widow I know …widowed after me … she has found someone new.

She is quite in love.

This makes me sad.

Not about her happiness.

Just that I am nowhere NEAR being there.

I don’t even want to look for someone new, even though I just want to be happily married again Right Now.

….but I want to be happily married to YOU.

Nobody else will do.

I guess it is good that I know myself well enough to see that I am not ready.

That I would only be using another person as a crutch.

Expecting characteristics and quirks that only belong to you and me.

Expecting another person to drag me out of this hell.

I’m Not there.

Not yet.

I know I don’t’ want to be alone for the rest of my life, but I can’t even imagine interacting with someone “new”.

When I met you, I had a deal with that bastard…  otherwise known as God … that I’d have a thumping realisation when I met my “Mr Right” .

I’d had enough of crap boyfriends and I didn’t want to spend any more time with people who were … well … just NOT right for me.

So at the tender age of 22,  I had sworn off men until I got that kick, that thump, that nod from above that *This One* was my Mr Right.

… and frankly, you couldn’t have come with any more bells and whistles …. it was almost like  a   flashing neon sigh saying “I’m Mr Right”.

It was obvious to both f us from the minute we met.

Obvious to everyone else at that party too.

We were Meant To Be.

So what worries me again is that while I’m here,  forsaking all others, pining after you….   that I may miss the next flashing neon light.

I miss you.

I love you.



386 days…

A family photo fell from the bookshelf today.  The frame is still intact, but the stand has broken.

I was quite emotional about it …. there’s no chance of getting another family photo like it.  Ever.

So even though it’s been over a year now, the idea that you are dead and never coming back still sneaks up and grabs me by the throat.


One of “my boys” from last year came up to me today.

He is the boy who’s Dad died in September last year.

Brain tumour.

His grandfather died last Friday … from the same type of rare tumour that killed his father.


He asked me if I could come to his grandfather’s funeral tomorrow.

I had to say “no” as I really couldn’t have any more time off.

But it was hard to say to a little face (a tough, adorable, ragamuffin face) that I couldn’t go.

A little face that’s seen too many sad days.

Much like the sad little faces of K and H.

…and again, I just can’t understand *why*.

Why us?


I will never understand.

I just know that I miss you.

I love you.