Love It

 For the first time this year on Mother's Day I'm the top of the food chain. I'm no longer a daughter, but I am a mother and a grandmother. What a shift in dynamics!  All my life I dreaded Mother's Day. It was Judgement Day in my mind. The day where no matter what I did, had done, or promised to do was not going to be good enough. My faults would be identified and glorified and my redeeming qualities paled into insignificance. The stress levels would rise to obscene levels and I felt physically ill. When I was younger I would attempt to outdo my previous years efforts in generosity. No point. I would over-organise and plan and create. No point.  The years between when my grandmother died and this year were the hardest. Grandma was the most appreciative woman and any efforts were highly rewarded and acknowledged. Her loss was huge not just to me, but I think to everyone who knew her. Even three decades later, people still say she was a star. So this year, I'm the old...

So we've become the sandwich generation. The meat in the sandwich of a genetic luncheon platter. How? When did this happen? I had a deep and meaningful discussion with the ham to my cheese this morning. We talked about lots of funnies before hitting some serious stuff.  Sandwiches. You see we are children, but we are parents. These other generations are the bread that make the sandwich. They are both absorbed with what they need, what they are, and generally consumed with whether they are white, brown, 5 seed, rye, or gluten free! They can be thick, thin, toast, even rolls really. Yet, while they are consumed with themselves, without us what are they? A lump of substance that lacks strength, that can be sliced, torn, used to soak up the spillls, toasted or croutoned! They are not a sandwich. And now think of a sandwich. The variety, the flavour, it is almost a life force. You can live on sandwiches. 3 meals a day - a bacon and egg sarnie for breakfast, a smoked salmon, cre...

Your mantra, repeated over and over, and always upheld by you in your life. Three years ago you left us all after finally finding something that could beat your spirit, and sadly it was your own health. The one thing we all take for granted, and the one thing we should never take for granted.  Without our health, our spirit falls and we can't get our head up to see the future.  Just what you went through three years ago.  To say we miss you, that our love has not decreased by even a minute amount is an understatement.  Every day you pop into our lives in some way to show us you are still nearby. The words though, they carry me onwards and upwards as you always used to say too.  When there are dark days, I just keep thinking I have to make up for the time you lost as well as what I want to achieve on my own as well.  There are so many things to do, so many good times to be had, and yet I still want to stop and just have quiet time on special days to r...

Life revolves around us, and sometimes we want to get off. How do I feel about suicide?  I have mixed views. I value human life in all forms and functions and believe that everyone has a role to play and a purpose to fulfill.  Do we have a right to cancel our fare and to bail out on those we love and those who love us?  Everyone has a different view, and many believe it is selfish. I am a Funeral Celebrant. I celebrate funerals, I celebrate lives lost to disease, accident, age and yes suicide. I work with those preparing for the death in palliative care and aged care. Those who want control to the very end.  And to some degree, I believe that suicide is indeed taking control to the very end of that persons journey and life. A medium once said that the souls he sees who have suicided have the deepest regret, and usually didn't intend to actually go through with it. They shocked themselves when they were suddenly on the other side and looking at their families ...

OK, it may not actually be the first Sunday of September, but in my house, 7th October is Father's Day. It has been since 1996 when my Dad died on this day. It was sudden, and yet not sudden. Dad had been sick since I was 3, but it wasn't a physical illness and it wasn't something that doctors ever got right. He'd had a bugger of a life, there's no other way of putting it really. He grew up with elderly parents, his Mum was 42, and his Dad 50 when he was born, and he was the youngest. His aunt lived with them and she was very disturbed from what she had witnessed during WW1 and earlier. His early life was plain miserable in many ways. At 13, he was a partisan fighter in Czechoslovakia, and his Mum hid two Jewish women in the house to protect them. His father was Jewish by birth, and the whole family was at risk. She was an amazing woman, and extremely strong. She did the right things. In marrying two women with the same birthday, he committed a very unusual...