tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90659162020053415322024-03-13T21:55:52.994-07:00Sunshine In A Blue CupBe happy for this moment...this moment IS your Life!Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.comBlogger149125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-83037137400204668512020-06-30T04:07:00.003-07:002020-06-30T04:11:07.496-07:00Happy Birthday Bubby love from us. x<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;">Happy birthday Bubby. Today you would be 21.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Twenty-one…wow! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;">I’d give anything to know what you’d look like with your golden
mop?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What would you love to do. Would you love to read, or play loud
music, or exercise around our lake. Would you be living in the big smoke?
Loving going out and having drinks with your friends like your sister does?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In some ways you’re a stranger to me now--a magical little girl
forever four, trapped in time. So innocent, who loved simple things like books
and the Wiggles and M & M’s and having us sit on the bed with you and spend
time smoothing your forehead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But who would you be now?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I will forever wonder as each year passes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But today you weren’t forgotten. You got flowers, and meaningful
texts, and calls. Just for you Bubby! Your sister even got a fluorescent green
teddy for her to cuddle on your special day to bring her comfort. She's working now, making doughnuts and coffee and smiling at strangers.....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I wonder when there’ll come a time that it doesn’t hurt? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That I won’t wonder how you’d wear your hair or what your favourite
thing in the world to do would be? I’ll always wonder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A friend of ours sent me a song tonight. The last song Glen
Campbell wrote, about how he won’t miss anyone when he dies. Because when you’re
gone it’s the ones we leave behind that feel the pain and hurt. The wondering…..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They say there’s the famous five stages of grief; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">denial.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">anger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But there’s so many more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">anxiety.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Time makes most days easy. But there’s always reminders. Everywhere
and always.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was only asked last week how many children I have. And I felt
brave, “Two” I Said. Holding my breath and hoping she wouldn’t ask me more
questions that would lead to that awkward place of having to explain. And I hate
that.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And last night, one of the Instagram bloggers I follow who’s
baby died put a post up about her Medicare card, how it has her daughter that
died’s name on it and she will struggle with getting a new card without her
name on it. I sent her a message telling her our card goes from 1 to 2 to 4. Number
3 is missing. You’re number 3. And every time I use that I’m reminded. I wonder
if the girl at the medical reception wonders why 3 is blank….missing? It’s the little
reminders like these that stab at my heart Bubby. Something so silly in the grand
scheme of life. But it’s your life and it’s big to me…to your daddy…to your
sister.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I can only hope and imagine today you’re with Trishie, singing
and laughing. She has her arms wrapped around you, spinning you around…somewhere
special. I missed her call today but take comfort maybe, just maybe, you’re together
and you miss us too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Happy birthday Bubby. Mummy loves you always and misses you like
I can’t put into words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">xxx<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-61000634780766589972018-06-30T02:38:00.000-07:002018-06-30T18:36:45.305-07:00The funny thing about grief....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">The funny
thing about grief is it’s not so funny.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nineteen years
ago today, on a cold winters day, in the freezing air of an operating room, I became
a mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The doctor
held up a screaming red baby, my baby, and told me with a smile we had a
daughter. The little girl I’d always dreamed of. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We named her
Savannah Beverley, and in that moment, I knew I was the luckiest mum alive.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Fast forward
to today--today is Savannah’s 19</span><sup>th</sup><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> birthday. But she’s not here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I haven’t
seen her sweet smile or almost violet blue eyes since she was four and a half. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Today, like every birthday, it seems grief is my nemesis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Every year I
watch the date creep up on the calendar. When I book in appointments or see advertisements
on tv. Its one of the only days of the year I know my nemesis awaits. But every
year I am optimistic. “Maybe I’ll be okay this year,” “Maybe the tears won’t arrive.”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Its confusing
and exhausting to have to wonder and worry how I’ll feel on her day as I don’t
like being sad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Who likes
crying? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Who wants to
feel sad? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nobody!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But this morning,
I woke to rain on our tin roof. I turned on my phone to see Peter had text me a
photo of the sunrise in Darwin where he is. No words, just the beautiful image
of a dawning day. Our daughter’s day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I started
sobbing and couldn’t stop.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Why does
grief invade like a parasite on these days like none others? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The solid
ground I usually have turned into quicksand today. I cried like I didn’t last
year, or the year before. And I let it sit with me to try and analyse why? Why
couldn’t I put my sadness aside? Why couldn’t I stop? But I just couldn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This isn’t my
first rodeo with grief. Every year I think I know what to expect, but every
year it surprises me. And I have no control over it, which is one of the worst
bits. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How do you
control a feeling that mirrors the love you had for someone? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How do you
control the wishing that Savannah was tucked in her bed, waiting for Dempsey
and I to bring her presents in? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well you don’t.
You just let it work you over like a punching bag, in hope the feelings may
lessen. And today, as the day went on they did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lessened
because of beautiful friends who remembered my baby girl, with texts and messages. Lessened by Dempsey’s
hug. Lessened by love I’m lucky to have from <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i>my </i></b>people. It’s a simple and as complicated as that I believe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mid morning the
dog barked to a knock at the door. My beautiful friend Carol sent 19 delicate,
baby pink roses for Savannah. But when I thanked her she said she didn’t plan
the 19 roses—coincidence?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And that’s where
the little things that aren’t little things started to open me up to see the beauty
inside the grief. That maybe today my baby girl is still around. Reminding me
to smile and to be grateful for all I have. There is a force in friendship. A healing
hand, an invisible hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At lunchtime,
Dempsey chose where we’d eat out. As we strolled in the door, a smiling
waitress touched my arm and led us over to – Table 19. Coincidence? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dempsey was
a bit weirded out by this. She found it strange that we were seated at a table
with her sister’s birthday number on it. But I didn’t!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It brought me comfort and made me wonder….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When we got
home I felt a little better – no tears. Was it the sugar hit from the coca cola
or does the day get better as it goes on? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I still couldn’t
anaylise it. But I did notice the rain had stopped. And a rainbow was staring
at me across our lake. Again, I had to wonder--was this another sign from
Savannah?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I stared
at the rainbow, I scrolled through the emails on my phone, and there, staring at
me was an email from Savannah’s little BFF Amber, when she was three years old—who
doesn’t know today is Savvy’s birthday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In Amber’s
words; “ Hi Dee, this is Amber! I just got my tattoo and it came out amazing, I
am so happy I was finally able to get it for Savannah. I just wanted to show
you how it came out! I hope all is well. Love Amber."<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And the
funny thing about grief is, it can be funny, weird, unusual, and surprising,
but as much as it’s my enemy, it’s also my teacher. Teaching me I’ve survived
another birthday missing my little girl with curls. That Dempsey helps heal my
heart and that friends and my people hold my hand on days like today with their
messages of love and encouragement that Savannah was here, that she was loved
and that they will always remember.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Without the
grief you wouldn’t see the gratitude--and like a bruise, my consuming hurt today
will disappear—until next time--until next time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Happy birthday
Bubby! I miss you. x</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-83747898416490783242017-11-07T02:33:00.003-08:002017-11-07T03:13:35.691-08:00Change.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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What if life stayed the same?<br />
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If it got stuck like a scratched vinyl record and kept playing over and over--the same theme--the same moments--the same day? It would drive us insane.<br />
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We’d be bored.<br />
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We’d question our existence.<br />
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We wouldn’t value life lessons--our mistakes, our experiences or our successes, or what they teach us. How they build character—and resilience—and empathy.<br />
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Sometimes I’d love to be stuck in a day in the past. To relive some moments--like watching Savannah take her first wonky steps into my arms—or witnessing Dempsey’s first breath, screaming and red and beautiful.<br />
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But life’s not like that. There’s no way we can stop change, or life, or what a day will bring. And there’s beauty and hope in that.<br />
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As I watch Dempsey turn from a tween into a teen there’s so many gifts I didn’t get to experience with her sister who died. Like watching her at her concerts play her trumpet with so much pride as she taps her foot to the music—which makes me smile. Or seeing her rush into a café here in our small town and tie her apron up to help volunteer. I always sit in my car, watching her through the window and selfishy indulge in the warm feeling it gives me. Or even simply watching her giggle at a message on her phone, which she never shares.<br />
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After my sister died, and my mum, and my daughter so many changes happened with each death, I felt my life was out of control. The pain was relentless and the changes unstoppable.<br />
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My nephews and nieces had no mother to kiss them goodnight. I had no mother to call and lean on and to help me get through my own daughter dying. And Savannah, oh Savannah, there were so many changes in my life that I lost my identity. I misplaced my life. But I also gained so much through these painful changes.<br />
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Grief builds character.<br />
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It makes us more resilient, stronger to face change.<br />
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And even though grief manipulates my life sometimes, I’m possibly a better version of myself because of it. And I’m sure if you’re reading and you’ve been through a life changing challenge then you are too.<br />
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You notice the deep pink in the sunset, and smile at seeing someone you love laugh, really laugh, or achieve, or try to achieve. Yes, grief is life changing, but sometimes it’s the yin to the yang, without grief in my life, I wonder if my joy would be as intense, or my determination as passionate or my mindfulness as present?<br />
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On Monday I took my sisters twins out for lunch. You see they’ve finally finished their schooling after thirteen years and they’re busy studying hard and sitting exams which will change and mould their direction in life.<br />
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As we sat in a booth at our local pub, with one of their brothers, I listened to them, talking over one another, laughing, happy, yet anxious about what the future and change will bring. Like moving to the big smoke and attending a University they know nothing about.<br />
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But their enthusiasm and happiness about change was contagious.<br />
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I smiled as I sat there listening to them grill their big brother about city life.<br />
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Change is a coming again.<br />
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I’ll miss my twins, it’s like they’re mine. Even though they’re not. My sister would be over the moon proud!<br />
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In a few short months there’ll be big changes, for them, for me, for Dempsey and their dad. But I feel sure they’ll be okay. Knowing that grief has taught them too—to embrace change, to jump aboard the train of life and allow it to take them where it will and trust that all they’ve been through will help buffer them against any challenge they face, an invisible amour that will kick in when the chips are down.<br />
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And I know I’ll survive, and they will too—Emerald grabbed my arm and told me, “We’re so doing Sex in the City brunches with you in the city next year.” I smiled at that.<br />
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Life does alter and transform us, especially through grief.<br />
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But we adjust and we embrace—every day brings new light, new hope—and change x<br />
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**This post is for Matty's Mom who inspired me tonight x<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-23103929564718755002017-05-27T03:07:00.000-07:002017-05-27T03:30:24.180-07:00What if.........<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Imagine just for a minute if you could be someone
else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you weren't you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you hadn't had all the amazing stuff happen to you
in your life...or the bad or sad stuff…if you're like me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Would you choose to swap lives with someone else?
Would you want to change your story?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This week, Dempsey has been on camp in the big smoke. It’s
been difficult to cut the apron strings and not worry about where she is and
what she’s doing, wandering around a big city….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The fear of losing her too simmers just beneath the
surface, a deep seeded anxiety that I battle with, borne through grief and losing
her sister Savannah. But I’m working on this demon. I know I’m a work in
progress….and that’s ok too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Anyway, yesterday, as I arrived at Etihad Stadium in
Melbourne, where her classroom is to pick her up, I had half an hour to waste.
I noticed a big green emblem, a familiar symbol, like an old friend, the green
sign of Starbucks was like a beacon calling me in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I pulled open the grimy glass door, the bitter aroma
of coffee hit me, along with the humming of small talk and the welcoming sight
of muffins bulging with chocolate chips and blueberries staring at me through
the glass counter. Over the noise of grinding coffee beans I ordered my flat
white. The smiling girl in the green apron asking me my name to write on my
cup.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And for a second I stood there and thought--what if I
told her a different name? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What if I invented a new name? A new name-a new
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What if I picked up someone else’s cup and became them? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I know some
days when Savannah was dying, watching her in pain and feeling so helpless, I
would’ve stolen someone else's cup in a heartbeat. But now?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I stood
in line, waiting, I contemplated this. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What if I had the opportunity to exchange all that
I’ve experienced, exchanged in a second for one `that's filled with everything
I desire, without all the sad moments of my life?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I was picturing this, a notification lit up my
phone. ‘<i>Snapchat from Charlotte</i>’, my niece. Her pretty face filled my screen
with the message, ‘<i>can't wait to talk to you about something that's happened’</i> and
then it buzzed again, from her twin Emerald, snapping me with a photo of a blister on her thumb from
writing her English exam. And it made me think--if I wasn't me I wouldn't have
them….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I wouldn’t be sitting here sipping my Starbucks, writing
this on my Evernote app in the warm sunshine waiting for my baby to finish her
class for the week at Etihad stadium. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If I wasn’t me, I wouldn’t have the absolute joy of
Dempsey! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Watching strangers pass by, I noticed a lady with a
leash with a guide dog in training, a pretty girl sitting behind me with Lucy
on her necklace, smiling at her phone at a message she'd probably received. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 19.9733px;">I realised they’ve all got different stories to mine….but I wouldn't swap my life for anyone's.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With its ups and downs, scars and memories, laughter
and tears, I realise I’ve earned these
invisible scars, and the laugh lines and the love my life is full of. They’re mine. And along the way, my experiences have taught
me to be grateful and to notice the little things that fill my blue cup with
sunshine that I wouldn’t have noticed before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, there's many gifts intertwined in our lives. Some
good. Some bad. But these are our teachers. Educating us to grow and accept and
to be mindful that in a heartbeat, life can spin on a dime. Changing the life
you had into something so foreign you don’t think you’ll survive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But you do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Because these bites from our lives remind us to sip
the coffee slower, and feel the sunshine warming your back, to listen to the
laughter and to be grateful for our own unique experience that can turn challenges
into lessons, gaining mindfulness for simply being alive…..they make us who we are!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What would you do….would you change your cup? x <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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*this post is for Scott Davidson, who inspired me with his story x</div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-34131688204456598302017-02-18T00:36:00.004-08:002017-02-18T01:04:33.665-08:00We keep this love in a photograph.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Do you ever
have a moment when something taps you on the shoulder to remind you life is
passing by so quickly? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I do….like
when my daughter Dempsey leans up against my back, trying to point out that she’s
almost taller than me….or my twin nieces who do this too….who now<i><b> are</b></i> taller!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And I know
we can’t somehow hit the ‘pause’ button on life, but we can at least try and trick
the clock…we can freeze it for another day! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But how do we
stop time.....w</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">ith a
photograph!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We can’t hit
the pause button, but we do have a save button.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Save for later….save for a time when we may need some laughter, or
tears.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Or a time when we need to return
to a moment otherwise gone forever…….</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And this
week I’ve had a few reminders to take more photos…to capture precious moments
that can be forgotton.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">You see Dempsey
got a guitar for Xmas.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">She already plays
the French Horn, Trumpet annddd piano, (which she wont play in front of
me!).</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">So you can imagine my hesitation when
she announced she wanted a guitar.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But
Xmas morning, in a shiny black padded case, she was gifted one.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A good one!</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One that should last forever.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Xmas
morning, I sat on the sofa with my steaming mug of tea, watching her awkwardly
hold and strum it. She’s got a long way
to go I thought to myself. Even if she
will get a few lessons in her music class at school.....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But this week, as
I grabbed her bedroom door handle to tell her dinner was ready, I could hear
music drifting out from under her door. I stood silent like a stalker and listened. I listened and I smiled!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And I got
goosebumps! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Through the
door, I could hear her strumming her guitar, in tune, and singing…to Ed Sheeran’s
song “Photograph.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And she was
amazing! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My little
girl has taught herself to play this song from You Tube! And it sounded beautiful! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I stood
silently at her door, scared to move in case she knew I was there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I stared at
the photograph of four year old Dempsey on the wall, and I listened to my baby,
playing her guitar and singing. And I felt
so lucky to be her Mum!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, as soon
as I opened her door she stopped! And of
course, like any teenager, wouldn’t let me take a video, or a photo or play in
front of me…..no matter how hard I tried to bribe her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But the
song, ‘Photograph’ and her singing reminded me I need to take more photos. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I need to
remember to get out my camera and record these special moments that<i> can</i> take us back. I know I have regrets I didn’t take enough
photos of her sister’s four years with us.
I only have a limited number of photos…but so many memories locked in my
mind that I can’t share with Dempsey about her sister and for that I have
guilt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <i> Baby Dempsey and her big sister Savannah</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But going
through a storage box from our LA home, I found a locket that was given to
Savannah for her birthday. I gave it to
Dempsey because she was only one years old when her sister died....and told her I thought her sister would want her to have it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I went
back to her room later…Dempsey was sitting on her bed, rolling the necklace over
and over in her hand as she played on her computer. I didn’t say anything….but I noticed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And that
night as I tucked her into bed, she had put the necklace on. She hasn’t taken it off since!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <i>Dempsey with her Savannah's locket on </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And this act
of her not taking her sister’s necklace off tells me so many things….it pulls
at my heartstrings, it warms my soul but most of all it reminds me that
memories and keepsakes are important. They’re
essential to cataloguing or recalling moments and things that have meaning….just
to us!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So I’m going
to make the effort to capture as many photos as I can…for later…for her…for my nieces
and nephews. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It will be a return ticket
for them… moments to revisit and laugh over…or brag about, or to make fun of….but
they’ll have them…memories held, frozen in time….priceless!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-5436131386307683052016-08-01T04:37:00.002-07:002016-08-01T04:56:06.669-07:00Just Keep Swimming....... x<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Yesterday, my sister’s daughter Charlotte drove to my
house. Yes drove! She’s old enough now and has her learner
permit. I’m so proud of her. I couldn’t wait to watch her drive out of my
driveway…and of course not back into my garage door! And as Charlotte slowly edged back and forth
with the car, giggling, my brother in law Tone rolling his eyes from the passenger seat, she
finally got it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">She straightened up the
car and drove slowly out of my driveway.
And in one of those strange reflective moments, with her bright yellow L
plate stuck to the back window, I couldn’t help but notice the other bright
yellow sticker on the car bumper under her L plate. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It said “Touched Be
The Road Toll.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I stood on our front steps madly waving and blowing kisses
to Charlotte who gave me a big thumbs up.
I know she couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. But it was a poignant reminder of life. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">One, how it goes on, that people do survive tragedy and
thrive and two, that these little moments after grief aren’t little moments. They have the ability to trigger such instant
responses. At a subconscious level! The sun was shining, I was filled with a
sense of such pride and happiness but in a second of seeing that sticker and
Charlotte’s L plate I was reminded just how fragile and unfair life can be
sometimes. Unfair that it wasn’t my
sister standing with me, so proud. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">So how do we ready ourselves for those triggers after grief?
</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">How do we ignore them, shut them out, block them, avoid
them? </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Well I’ve learned you can’t!
It’s all part of the process. A
process they call healing…or moving forward.
But sometimes it’s like one step forward, two steps back!</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">But with every shot of pain and recognition comes more resilience. More strength….to cope when these sparks of
grief strike. I’m not scared of them now….well
not as much as I was. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsALP9wI0c0GJ9LxLBA_gg-P2k7Q5tFdMywdg0Pza8G7ZjNeya6YPFEKpGh38aPzMiiE1yfoZ-pStm7OVHrf7EQDHSPrhq0F3uuic3wCoNSxvhRXO29B7Jbz4LLOzbAAb04Oa510Nvr5xh/s1600/g2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsALP9wI0c0GJ9LxLBA_gg-P2k7Q5tFdMywdg0Pza8G7ZjNeya6YPFEKpGh38aPzMiiE1yfoZ-pStm7OVHrf7EQDHSPrhq0F3uuic3wCoNSxvhRXO29B7Jbz4LLOzbAAb04Oa510Nvr5xh/s320/g2.png" width="281" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And I wonder how other people cope with these little set
backs or obstacles? Whether they’re part
and parcel of grief or whether I’m stuck, or I have too much time to
contemplate? Or all this means is that
the love I had for those gone will always prompt sadness sometimes? Is it odd or normal to still feel this way?</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’m glad its August as it’s the later part of the year where
it seems I get a breather from all the reminders of those I’ve lost. May was Mother’s Day. June was Savannah’s birthday and July my baby
has her birthday. Which seems always
overshadowed by her sisters. And I hate that!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And all these special days prompt tears and wondering and
questioning why? Year after year. Its like you have to deal with the difficult
stuff for three days. The day before,
the day of and the flatness of the day after….the recovery. But we
do recover. We regroup. We mend.
And thats the true miracle of the human condition. Just keep swimming as Dory said!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Nq40VBNltjMPNWXCuxBjpo7kfxiX3qSNHJfgzi9doVX-TBFkoD7kZUaBBIp2FA1yovMMS1SrKMUimLYuHkpk4yscxiR9Y9oFJP4N7S7xzCS7YSuCyFH8lhzgtM6hGnKx-Jh7BZUQHycg/s1600/g3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Nq40VBNltjMPNWXCuxBjpo7kfxiX3qSNHJfgzi9doVX-TBFkoD7kZUaBBIp2FA1yovMMS1SrKMUimLYuHkpk4yscxiR9Y9oFJP4N7S7xzCS7YSuCyFH8lhzgtM6hGnKx-Jh7BZUQHycg/s320/g3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">You’d think I’d be better at this by now. But it seems grief is like an eclipse. When it’s around, everything else seems to be
shadowed. Even the good stuff! The triggers are just that, like someone has
a gun pointed. The best way to deal with
them is to let the pain sit with you, or pour out of you. Whatever works! But I do know that burying the pain can
create addiction. And with addiction,
unless you deal with whatever is causing the pain, you will never fix the addiction
if you have one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And the other night I watched a TV show called
‘Offspring.’ A scene in it showed one of
the main characters celebrating her birthday.
The table was full of family, laughing.
She got up to make a speech, how it was the first birthday without her
dad. And in the scene she melts into a
mess of tears. And out of the blue,
lying on my couch under a fluffy throw rug, I started sobbing. And I couldn’t stop. It was like someone turned a tap on. </span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I miss my dad. </span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I m i s s m y d a d! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">That one little scene in a silly show triggered grief tears
and set me off! </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">But I wiped my wet face with the fluffy throw rug, took a
deep breath and let the pain sit with me.
And you know what….after a few minutes, the sadness passed. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">However I still got up, grabbed a crystal glass off the
shelf, and poured myself a red. i know I’m
a work in progress….and that’s ok too! X</span></div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-35988600512447043042016-02-22T01:33:00.002-08:002016-02-22T01:40:47.634-08:00Tapping those red shoes.....................<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Pain can be our teacher....<br />
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Yesterday, Dempsey found a small purple velvet box in my
sideboard drawer. She wandered up to me
very sheepishly with it behind her back and asked me if she could have what’s
inside. </div>
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“What is it Precious?”
I asked, wracking my brain to remember what was inside that box?</div>
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Dempsey smiled and slowly opened it, not taking her eyes off
mine. Inside was Peter’s mother’s ruby
ring.</div>
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“Who’s is it Mummy?”
she asked.</div>
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I told her it was Daddy’s mother’s…..her grandmother’s, who
died when she was only two. Who we
weren’t close with.</div>
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“What is it with me and Grandmother’s!!! Why don’t I even have one?” she asked. </div>
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I pulled her into me, wrapped my arms around her and kissed
her head. I told her that not everyone
has a grandma, and that I know it’s not fair she doesn’t have <i>any</i> but that’s just the way it is.</div>
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It made me think how the school of hard knocks can certainly
teaches us resilience….and some days acceptance of our ‘lot in life.’ But it is also a breeding ground for wishing
for things we cant have…..impossible things, and that’s when some days can be
torture and you want the sun to sink quickly so it’ll be a new day. </div>
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Wanting things that will never be only gets you down and as
difficult as it may be sometimes, you have to dig deep and look at what you DO
have instead. It’s a hard habit to nurture,
but it IS possible….. </div>
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Facebook is a great example of misreading other people lives
and wishing for what they have! It’s a
platform that can easily trigger feelings of wanting what we can’t have, or
wishing we had a different life. </div>
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But is all that stuff that people carefully post an
illusion? </div>
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When I see my friends on Facebook posting pictures of their
healthy kids Savannah’s age, or photos of them with their healthy mothers out
lunching in the sunshine, it creates that perspective that everyone’s life is
perfect, that other people have what I don’t.
And its difficult to try to change your way of thinking….but you have
to, otherwise you find yourself spiraling into that place of pining for things
that will never be. And that’s
detrimental to the soul…..</div>
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Everyone has the power within to change their way of
thinking, to dig deep when you need to….</div>
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YOU have the ability to focus on the positives or accept
what’s <i>not</i> to be, it’s how we
interpret ‘our lives’ that matters….it’s those shitty days and shitty feelings
that become our building blocks, stacking one block after another, after
another, fostering strength and shaping our armor. </div>
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And as my dad used to say, “There’s always someone worse off
than you Diana!” and it’s this mantra I
quietly say to myself when all else fails…because there is! And that, saying is sometimes my life
raft…..it brings perspective and jolts me back into my reality of how lucky I am!</div>
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Yes, Demps doesn’t have any grandma’s and I don’t have my
mother, sister or daughter here. But I
did! And I DO have girlfriends and close
people in my life who have stepped up and are there everyday, that call me and
make me laugh. That hug me and hug
Dempsey….they are like my loved ones, even though they aren’t! </div>
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Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she realizes she had
the power all along to take her home, just by tapping her red shoes....she just had
to discover herself!</div>
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We also have the capacity to realize we can change our way
of thinking….it’s there…it’s been there all along……</div>
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So today, I’ve been down in the dumps, wishing for things I
can’t have but trying to remember my mantras and remembering the Glinda the
Good Witch from Wizard of Oz reminding Dorothy;</div>
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“You’ve always had the power my Dear, you just had to learn
it yourself!” X </div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-17825539586123440032015-10-16T00:37:00.001-07:002015-10-16T00:37:42.982-07:00Happy trumps sad....always! X<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<h2>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></h2>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Since last time I've written, I've had a birthday.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I hate
birthdays. Not because I turn a year
older…..but because most of the people I love aren’t here to share it with me. Birthdays after someone you love has died are
never, ever the same!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">This year, I was
without another important family member.
My dad!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">For as long as I
can remember, on the morning of my birthday, it’s like I’m psychic. I’d know the first phone call I'd receive would be from my dad, with a smile in his humble voice, wishing me a quiet “Happy
birthday Diana!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">So this year it
seems I’m psychic too….as I knew the phone wouldn’t ring, I knew I wouldn’t
hear Dad’s voice, or share a conversation with him….not on any day ever
again! And it hit me hard. It is like the reality of his death and him
not being here has finally sunk in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And I was sad! I was a blubbering mess!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I had the biggest
pity party…..where tears came along, anger brought his frown, sadness brought
the red wine and of course pity cheered me on….
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">By mid afternoon I
opened a bottle of wine, hoping to drown out all these emotions that showed up
ready to party. And I managed to
forget….for a little while…..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But I’ve learnt
through my journey that delaying the heartache, or burying the emotions or
using something to try and fix your grief doesn’t work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Yes, to go into
battle with grief you have to armour up….whether it be with friends support, a
listening ear, or through feeling the pain and allowing that to settle in your
being and then seep out of your eyes in the form of tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">There’s no magic
spell or pill that you can take to mend a broken heart. It will always be broken….but sitting on my
deck on my birthday, feeling sorry for myself, I noticed a flash of yellow pull
up in my driveway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I heard the slam
of 3 car doors and watched as my sister’s twins and husband came smiling around
the corner with a shiny yellow box that said “Moet” in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Charlotte</st1:place></st1:city>’s hand. Each of my sister’s daughters took a turn at
squeezing me so tight, they managed to transfer a few stitches into my broken
bits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And I do have a
broken heart….but…..half of it is still intact….and that half is an enormous
muscle filled with hope and the ability to recognize and appreciate joy. And I’m grateful that at least that half will
always eclipse the broken bi<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>ts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I grabbed five of
my mother’s precious crystal flutes and called Dempsey. I told the girls I was going to share my
beautiful bottle of sparkling bubbles with them….only if it was a sip! YOLO I told them! </span><span lang="EN-AU" style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Their faces lit up....Dempsey
was a bit hesitant, but I told her a sip of French champagne is ok because its
my birthday….and if we were in Italy, they’d most likely be enjoying red wine
with their dinner at night….well that was my excuse anyway! I wanted them to feel special and to create a
memory where in years to come maybe they’d reminisce and say “Remember old aunt
Diana giving us a sip of French Champagne on her birthday!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And this week my
baby has been on camp….the anxiety of Dempsey not being in my clutches is very
real and it’s a demon I fight with….a bit like the emotions I battle on special
days. But I’ve been trying to trust in
the Universe and trust Dempsey’s big sister will keep her safe….but it feels
like someone has cut my left arm off. The
house is way too quiet!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And it’s in these
quiet moments when you can’t escape, that all those grief emotions start to
bubble up to the surface and you have to face them. There’s nowhere to run….where do you run
to? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Who do you
tell? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Who wants to
listen to someone who’s sad and down?
Nobody! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">So I’ve had to
face a lot of buried emotions this past week…and it’s been exhausting, but I’ve
feel like I’ve come through the fog, I feel like I’ve won a war! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And last night, my
sister’s girls had their Production at school.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Emerald asked with
puppy dog eyes if I’d please go! And to
be honest I didn’t feel up to it. I just
wanted to wallow at home. But I went….for
my sister!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And as I sat next
to their dad and watched them light up the stage with their presence, beauty
and fun energy…..I thought of my big sister.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One of them is
becoming more like her every day in the way she pulls faces, and how she holds
her head….even though she can’t know Tarnia’s quirky little ways as she was
only a baby when she died.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But there on that
wooden stage was my sister…reincarnated.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I was so proud to
be there watching….also a little melancholy that Tarnia has missed out on so
many of these moments. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And it hit me then….that
there is life in grief….that there can be happiness in sadness and that you can’t
escape fear and pain anymore than you can avoid the joy and beauty in moments….
e v e r y s i n g l e d a y !
And that right there was my light bulb moment!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Yes, between the
pauses of grief, beauty and joy shines through and fixes the broken bits…..there’s
no safety net….but for every down moment, the UP one’s fill our blue cup with
sunshine and give us strength and courage to face whatever life throws at us. They sweep us up and carry us along, slowly mending our broken hearts and ensuring our smile will always return.... X <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-2078390902138209352015-08-29T04:32:00.001-07:002015-08-29T04:32:36.279-07:00The gifts...........<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grief is such a lonely place. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you’re in the thick of it, it’s like quicksand…there’s
nothing that can help you. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And I’ve found like a surfer, you just have to ride out the
wave…….</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And for anyone reading who’s in that place…that’s OK too…cos
I’m here to tell you, it does get better………..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I usually find if I’m down, the next day I feel stronger….and
I seem to get a renewed energy to face the world with a different outlook. It’s bizarre, this concept, but it’s the roller
coaster theory of being up and down…the high…and the low! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like Friday. You see
my baby went to the big smoke with the debating team.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had to have her at the bus at 0730am stat! Which was a far bit earlier than normal….but
Dempsey was excited….dressed in full uniform, with her blazer and tie knotted
perfectly in place and a smile on her face that couldn’t be wiped off.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pulled up my car behind the school bus, got out and embarrassingly
(to Demps) took a proud photo of course….to capture the memory. </div>
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Then I got back in my car and sat there. I just sat there, enjoying the moment. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Through my windscreen I watched other parents come and go,
dropping their kids off quickly. But I stayed
that little bit longer…watching my baby’s face, lit up with excitement and
enthusiasm, chatting to her friends, making silly teenage faces as she boarded
the bus. Then I tucked the moment and
the joy it brought to me deep in my heart, and drove off…..with Kings of Leon
blaring through my car speakers, leaving the school bus behind in my rear-view
mirror! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So tonight I’m a little melancholy…I don’t know why. Maybe it’s wishing for things I can’t have.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I guess you can’t be ‘up’ all the time. And it’s OK to be a little down
sometimes. As the down times make the up
times so much richer. The gift of grief
has taught me that….it’s also taught me </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Knowing sad makes happy so much bigger and brighter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Knowing how the lowest of lows feels means understanding up
has to happen…it’s the law of gravity!!! <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Watching someone you care about achieve something they’ve
worked so hard for makes success more rewarding. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Loving and losing something so precious teaches you that
love is all there is. That it’s sweet and
intoxicating….and addictive….and you finally g e t it!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Life seems bigger and brighter some days! Rainbows and sunrises seem more vibrant and
breathtaking. They just never get old do
they?</div>
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<i>Sunrise in my front yard last week...breathtaking</i></div>
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There’s no cook book like Nigella's that can publish a recipe on how to
cook grief so someone can taste what it’s like…to understand how it might feel or what people deal with if they've suffered loss. Only
those that have been through it understand how it feels and smells and looks.</div>
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But after some time, grief can be a gift. Well, it has been with me.</div>
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It’s taught me how to embrace life, even with its sometimes
cruel consequences. It’s taught me to
cherish the small moments that I’m privileged with…like today with it’s winter
chill. That reminded me of mother nature’s
bite, but also of her beauty with a sky full of marshmallow clouds that somehow
made up for the cold winter’s day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoT7Q2AFgoQ1b0VAHGolGtsBssgElh8R5kzMGvjGxqkyx5jWhnsy7tnqzCY7yBicf50a6tOYmIzYZlqoztBIjGIRPb0xk8PCgJ4Hpp4UXPxlo9EGfJZAQ_xeW1_sOv7hCq26KLq5EVdmWv/s1600/IMG_7357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoT7Q2AFgoQ1b0VAHGolGtsBssgElh8R5kzMGvjGxqkyx5jWhnsy7tnqzCY7yBicf50a6tOYmIzYZlqoztBIjGIRPb0xk8PCgJ4Hpp4UXPxlo9EGfJZAQ_xeW1_sOv7hCq26KLq5EVdmWv/s320/IMG_7357.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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And I don’t think I’d recognize them if it weren’t for
losing the most precious thing in my world.</div>
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Loss makes you understand that life is a gift, a privilege….something
to wrap both arms around and embrace and to face with energy and gusto as
tomorrow is not a given for anybody. </div>
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Whatever it is…I’m grateful for it. Cos tonight I’m thankful to be sitting here,
with a rich glass of merlot…..the sound of frogs serenading me on my lake…Teddy
dog at my feet, my friends and family only a phone call away. </div>
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And my special little girl, sitting at her
desk in her room, drawing with Derwent pencils under a halogen lamp, and
gifting me with special moments, every day…..e v e r y day!</div>
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How lucky I am…..</div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-90859786186910706642015-07-26T01:07:00.000-07:002015-07-26T01:07:37.855-07:00YOLO - What if we had an expiry tag?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhElMZRXayNSCg1bW8FKRmoCoykLP-FfMMVAe1GxRuJnX45aa7kUQHV1AD_VImI-7I5FOUCY4BImIFC-N8kvDQi9xIx2-tflYHvnaG2zD_vifaqCNgV92-ErLcSwDZqCj1oZoAjSmzfrfuw/s1600/9e5ffc009f8ed161667d6b55fa27cdb9%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhElMZRXayNSCg1bW8FKRmoCoykLP-FfMMVAe1GxRuJnX45aa7kUQHV1AD_VImI-7I5FOUCY4BImIFC-N8kvDQi9xIx2-tflYHvnaG2zD_vifaqCNgV92-ErLcSwDZqCj1oZoAjSmzfrfuw/s320/9e5ffc009f8ed161667d6b55fa27cdb9%255B1%255D.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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What if we all had an expiry date tied to us on a tag?</div>
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What if you knew what your expiry date was?</div>
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Would you do anything different than what you are today???</div>
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Would you write a list of all those things you want to do???</div>
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It’s funny, but for anyone who’s been through a life
changing event, it transforms</div>
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you…..in so many many ways.
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And at the time you can only see the bad if it’s a tragedy
or a challenge. You become bogged down
and consumed with the “why me?” and the “if only’s.” But over time, as you heal and become more resilient….and
you start to understand the fragility and randomness of life, you begin to
understand just how short life really is.
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You begin to want to suck the marrow out of e v e r y little
morsel of each day, good or bad.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifz1UNsUMX0qafRRThodxW8WA6UNQ6xTQTN4saiFD_yX8gPbv6VaKZQefX0sjp-FecvdJLjJRpd3N3IC0mTZL5HtQPhgGCDJuQX3ulcXu4Ef6qYPFKG7265dGR0qtGEIt13j58gTRU0Pmp/s1600/imagesZCM30MTN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifz1UNsUMX0qafRRThodxW8WA6UNQ6xTQTN4saiFD_yX8gPbv6VaKZQefX0sjp-FecvdJLjJRpd3N3IC0mTZL5HtQPhgGCDJuQX3ulcXu4Ef6qYPFKG7265dGR0qtGEIt13j58gTRU0Pmp/s320/imagesZCM30MTN.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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My friend who I wrote about in an earlier blog who was
diagnosed with a brain tumor a few years ago is doing great, however she’s been
given the gift of recognizing life is short and random shit happens to good
people, no matter if you’ve done everything right in life.</div>
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Anyway, this friend and I had a conversation on Friday….about
how people live, or how we should try to live….and we talked about what people would do
if they had an expiry tag pinned to them.
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It’s an interesting concept.
It makes you question your mortality and your time or how you spend it…..and
just what it is you want to do with your one wild and precious life? </div>
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I know losing my sister, mother and four year old daughter
have made me understand life is short….and there’s no guarantee’s.</div>
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And last night, my BFF and I were chatting….she’s tossing up
whether to undertake more study. YOLO(You
Only Live Once) I said down the phone!</div>
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And it’s true….YOLO should be pinned to our chest too!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT4dW55yFor0wUKO1_BPAthWcxU5l73wu8GbeioW8HPKybGbWNFIjUhZV0B4xFGk3mpW6mf9BZRGGVTLXr6UAyjtJDvNJdK5T0ZzcXTapdVLoS4-phUs308CFtWHTC-OO2qulW97qOiWXT/s1600/beauty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT4dW55yFor0wUKO1_BPAthWcxU5l73wu8GbeioW8HPKybGbWNFIjUhZV0B4xFGk3mpW6mf9BZRGGVTLXr6UAyjtJDvNJdK5T0ZzcXTapdVLoS4-phUs308CFtWHTC-OO2qulW97qOiWXT/s320/beauty.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The gift of grief has taught me how to suck the marrow….how
to get up and go and to not put things off.
To buy that bottle of Moet….or dance on that table! To tell friends and family how much they mean
to me….to take risks and to push myself.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw7MH7qppKtzTSeDN1un-1W8iXIcqIZ1zg1qdOX6b1GviPVjL5i7UVEKYS783IfmsSAXLnBpx8aNTA0eeXW5rpNA18v6HpbsYsWPdyr8X3r5chY8PZSG1L7OwlkL-KZuRwISAwvirXpOvh/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw7MH7qppKtzTSeDN1un-1W8iXIcqIZ1zg1qdOX6b1GviPVjL5i7UVEKYS783IfmsSAXLnBpx8aNTA0eeXW5rpNA18v6HpbsYsWPdyr8X3r5chY8PZSG1L7OwlkL-KZuRwISAwvirXpOvh/s320/unnamed.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>yes that's me dancing on that table! :)</i></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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We’re all dying. Every
day. But are we living?</div>
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Do we put off things because they’re too hard? Or because we’re scared of rejection…or
failure? Or is it we just can’t be
bothered? </div>
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Life is such a gift…and I know that’s clichéd, but its
true. I know it’s a privilege for me to
wake every day. </div>
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I know I’m absolutely blessed to have a daughter who’s happy
and healthy….how things could be different, just by a twist of fate. Knowing these things has changed me….they’re
the remiinder….the kick and the sparkle that lights my spirit to make me take
risks and live each day and appreciate what I have. </div>
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My precious daughter turned thirteen this week. Dempsey reminds me every day how life is
passing us by so quickly…that time is ticking away and that this day will never
happen again….so to make the most of it! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEr6eejMtVzxoexhgKeivJkIpHn-qO5DaTSA0SoJxBNFjffVfdGtM5HnZQMZmSCVp4t-JnsBmibLoX3ueOmo49awMiiBjDU0yNO4GwQ87Cf3OeHNOr_HMs_-cpSMPWRqHrDQgJSCYmDO7_/s1600/demps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEr6eejMtVzxoexhgKeivJkIpHn-qO5DaTSA0SoJxBNFjffVfdGtM5HnZQMZmSCVp4t-JnsBmibLoX3ueOmo49awMiiBjDU0yNO4GwQ87Cf3OeHNOr_HMs_-cpSMPWRqHrDQgJSCYmDO7_/s320/demps.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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And as I type I’m smiling, Dempsey just leaned over my
shoulder and read what I’m writing, when she got to YOLO came the reminder that
maybe I am getting old…..”Really Mummy?” was her response. But when I asked what she thinks YOLO means….out
of the mouth of my newly teen daughter came the wise words……”You should try all
the things you’ve ever wanted to try.” Maybe
she does listen!</div>
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I have to sign off now….and go write my list….what will yours
say? X</div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-83766696786474572662015-06-29T02:57:00.002-07:002015-06-29T02:58:44.370-07:00Happy Birthday Savannah!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Dear Bubby,</span><br />
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<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Tomorrow is your birthday. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
You would be sixteen! Sixteen! Wow!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAxqXM7Ed-IZZhfBbyY9UUTpR66v2HcD2YrVrQOMCviPzqFQG6pCm4d3-ayoytIldbiNQxoleRPoAI-l6J2VAJEn8k-2_Wy0GAdpZFjKFp_YyUcHejh2nXm8UUoaBCuQmnFw0T8gwE-ap/s1600/mumandmesavvy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAxqXM7Ed-IZZhfBbyY9UUTpR66v2HcD2YrVrQOMCviPzqFQG6pCm4d3-ayoytIldbiNQxoleRPoAI-l6J2VAJEn8k-2_Wy0GAdpZFjKFp_YyUcHejh2nXm8UUoaBCuQmnFw0T8gwE-ap/s400/mumandmesavvy.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Oh how I wish I could wrap my arms around you tomorrow and hug you..</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
How I wish I had something special that you'd like. But I don't know what you'd like, because you aren't here. </div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
I miss you. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Dempsey misses you.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
We talked about you last night.....on Dempseys bed. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
We talked about what it would be like if you were here. How you might have a boyfriend. How you and Demps would probably hang out together. How she would probably embarrass you. Cos that's what little sisters do....</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Dempsey smiled at that. </div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
I hate that I don't know how you'd be wearing your hair or if you'd have homework during the holidays. Or what you might want to do on your special day. </div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
But most of all I miss your eyes. I could see into your soul Bubby. </div>
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But I have your picture next to our table where we have dinner. You watch us every night. </div>
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I'd give anything if you could join us. </div>
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Your cousins are here staying. </div>
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Emerald reminds me of what you might look like. </div>
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I know you'd love them......you'd add to the laughter I hear when the three girls are together. </div>
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It hurts that if you hurt I can't help you. But I'm hoping in heaven there's no hurt. </div>
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You will always be my touchstone. </div>
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I think of you in every place. </div>
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I know you're around....especially when I see a glorious rainbow. Or a carpet of stars or I feel the warm sun on my face. </div>
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I know you're around Bubby......</div>
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Tomorrow I'll light your candle. </div>
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Tomorrow I'll send a hug to heaven. </div>
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Please send Mummy a sign.</div>
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Anything.</div>
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To let me know, wherever you are, you're celebrating your special day and you know I miss you.....more with each passing year. </div>
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Mummy loves you....always</div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-14619279542661626442015-05-09T04:29:00.002-07:002015-05-09T04:29:37.958-07:00Motherless Mother's Day.....a day without your child. X<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have my sister’s twins living with us at the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On Thursday they locked themselves out of
their house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a locksmith let us
in, I sat on their couch waiting for them to collect their things.</div>
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I sat quietly in their lounge room waiting for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked up at the walls, at photos of my
sister, one with her sitting with baby Emerald…. her arms wrapped protectively
around Emmy’s bunny rug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
beaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
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I sat there staring at the photo, thinking how unfair it is
that the girls, my nieces, won’t ever know that love, that protectiveness like
a lioness that only a mother can give.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That unconditional love!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when
they’re with me while their dad works, I kiss them good night and tell them I
love them every night, I know its not the same.</div>
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It’s Mother’s Day tomorrow and already I’m hating on the
day.</div>
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Already everyone on Facebook is loading up happy photos of
their alive mothers…..the shops around my town are adorned with advertisements
for Mother’s Day and it hurts.</div>
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Every. Single. Year. </div>
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I wait for a different feeling to wash over me. But it
doesn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On days’ like Mother’s Day the
pain is unavoidable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like it’s a
triple whammy, especially this year having my sister’s girls with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
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I know they feel it, like I feel sad I don’t have my mum
here, or my daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s shit that I
have to text my sister’s kids to say I’m thinking of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I know I have Dempsey, which people
remind me of….but this day will always be incomplete for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel the sting, and the ache runs deep.</div>
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Oh how I wish I could phone my mum, or have a wine with my
sister tomorrow, or have BOTH my girls throw their arms around my neck and say
“Happy Mother’s Day Mummy!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but I know
that’s impossible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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My mother had such a presence…a way of making not just me
but everyone feel special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I guess I
miss that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I guess that’s ok
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least I can own my feelings of longing,
which is a step towards healing.</div>
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When I was a little girl, I would wake early on Mother’s Day
morning and ride my bike around our neighborhood, stealing the prettiest
flowers I could find over the fence of our neighbours…I never got caught
either!!! <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t wait to ride home and gift them to
Mum…just to see her reaction and smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How do you replace that?<br />
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Last weekend I saw my cousin, who lost her son Paul when he was
32. Heash had a friend visiting who’s daughter Catherine has also died.....and its weird
but we sat in the room.... and we were happy and laughing! And I thought how astounding it
is that we three mum’s have all lost children, and we were in the same room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
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A club nobody wants to join, however there we were....surviving, smiling
and still enjoying life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of us have
our mum’s either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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It was weird, but to
anyone who’s lost or has just suffered the loss of their mother or child….you do
survive, and you do embrace life again….sometimes with a scary passion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Death has taught me that! </div>
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<em>this was taken on Mother's Day with Savvy </em></div>
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I hope tomorrow I’ll find comfort in my sisters girls, and
in Dempsey.....she also made me a Mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I’ll avoid the happy places, I’ll probably cry as I always do, I’ll
long for Savannah and my Mum, but I’ll also remember their love…..and that will
always live deep within me, and help me when I'm down....and never, ever go away…..</div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com132tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-34951564901551922382015-01-08T01:38:00.000-08:002015-01-08T02:04:02.216-08:00The death of my father........<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I’m sitting typing this on our outdoor deck as Summer rain
pelts down on our tin roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Across our
lake I’m looking at a magnificent double rainbow in all its glory….a sign I hope.</div>
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On November 16<sup>th</sup>, five weeks ago, my adored Dad
took his last breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s weird to
write that…and I still feel disconnected from his death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like he’s still here, still just a five minute drive away…I
think the closeness we shared has left that imprint in my psyche.</div>
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And I hadn’t really processed that I’ve now lost both mum
and dad until a friend used that horrible word ‘orphan.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t feel like an orphan, but I guess that’s
the term for a person who has no parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I already hate that word!</div>
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We are never ready for those shocking phone calls are
we?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although you’d think I’d be ready
for them now!</div>
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I was enjoying a work conference in picturesque <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tasmania</st1:place></st1:state>, a reward for
my hard work, when I got a call from my husband to say Dad had suffered a
stroke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was shocked of course, wasn’t
ready again for such news!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d only
spoken to him from the airport, again, naively thinking he’d be there when I returned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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After hearing the news, I was hopeful it would be one of
those strokes where maybe Dad just had a minor deficit in his voice or his
limbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But after a frantic call to the hospital, the
same one where my mother was and my sister….I learned that dad had suffered a
fatal stroke….the nurse informing me that he would NOT recover….that he’d been
moved to the palliative care room and I needed to get back as quick as I could
if I wanted to say goodbye.</div>
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My voice was rushed, desperate, as I asked the nurse to put the phone to his ear, so I could
tell him I loved him, in case I didn’t get another chance….and for my own
selfish reasons, I got to tell him….and that I was on my way home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad could only mumble, “cant’ talk, cant’
talk. <o:p> </o:p></div>
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All I could think about when I hung up was the date…it was my
mother’s anniversary….however I felt some sort of peace that maybe his time
would be the same day as mums...........<o:p> </o:p></div>
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And like after my sister died, I wished for a magic carpet
to transport me home as fast as possible…but as I already know, that’s
impossible too!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to wait out a
sleepless night, and then through my tears, crazily jump on a plane and pray
that he’d be there when I got the five hours back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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On the plane home I sat biting my nails, willing the plane
home as fast as it could go, crying and trying to hold it together and hide my
pain from other passengers…. until I could rush to his bedside. </div>
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I got on the wrong bus at the airport, got stuck in traffic
and drove most of the way with the road blurred through my tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I made it.</div>
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I made it back for a whole day before he died.</div>
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He was unconscious most of that time, a morphine pump
ensuring his passing to the other side with some sort of dignity….pain free.</div>
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The bleed in his brain covered almost his entire frontal
lobe….the CT Scan confirmed my greatest fear.</div>
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‘My person,’...the only one who will ever truly love me unconditionally.... my rock , my daddy….the first man I ever loved
wasn’t coming back.</div>
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In his hospital room was his wife and some of her relatives,
the mood was somber however they wouldn’t stop talking…about insignificant shit…this
is MY dad, my time! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I wanted to yell, “Fucking shut up!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted
time with him alone….just he and I…like when I was a little girl and I’d sit on
the side of his bed every night and listen to what we’d be doing on the farm in
the morning!!!</div>
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I got an hour and a half with my amazing dad…..alone,
holding his hand and telling him how much he meant to me, and how much I’ll
miss him, my tears dripping down my face, falling onto his arm.</div>
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The pain was burning and I knew it was only a matter of time
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“Dad if you know I’m here squeeze my hand.”</div>
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I felt a flutter of his fingers….I know he knew I was there….and
that gives me some comfort….</div>
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But I wasn’t there when he went at 3.20am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was sound asleep, exhausted but figuring
there would be more time tomorrow……you’d think I’d learn by now…….</div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-67859817671942656472014-06-12T04:44:00.001-07:002014-06-12T04:44:05.655-07:00Survival....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">After
my daughter <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Savannah</st1:place></st1:city>
died, it took me a long time to be able to sit alone with my thoughts without
some sort of distraction to stop my mind wandering to a place that caused pain
and feelings of guilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">I have
a detrimental habit of over thinking everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of mulling things over and over in my mind
and questioning the ‘why’s” and the “if only’s” and the “its not fair.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when you’re in the shower, or the car
when a sad song comes on the radio, or in the dark hours of the night….. you
can’t escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a destructive process
to go over things you can’t change or you have no control over….its also human
nature.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">There’s
human nature and Mother Nature, the latter teaching me just recently that there
is hope if I just keep taking day by day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I drive a lot with my new job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Recently I couldn’t help but notice the ‘hope’ in a bunch of tree’s
lining the side of the freeway, reminding me that I will survive, and that with
loss comes strength and renewal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Lately,
I’ve found I’m back in ‘that’ place of being afraid of being alone with my
thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For different reasons….things
going on in my life that feel out of control like a vortex, sucking me in to
that dark place again….compounded by the fact it’s June, Savannah’s month!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 10pt;">My dad
hasn’t been well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s been diagnosed
with Pulmonary Fibrosis, which is a progressive disease that will eventually
take his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s struggling to
breathe, on constant oxygen, a shell of his former self. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He can’t even walk to the toilet to wee
without fighting to breathe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A week ago he was referred to Pallative Care. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know he’s on borrowed time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s terrifying to think my dad’s time is
drawing closer and I’ll lose him too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Grief
and loss has taught me sometimes you have to accept ‘your deal’ in life and make
the best of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grief has also taught me
to appreciate time and happiness…or creating happiness….cos <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that’s</i></b>
all there is!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">I’ve
had my sister’s twins living with me while their dad goes off to work to
provide things for them they’ve been missing out on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s great for Dempsey having them here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s great for me too cos I feel like I’m
giving back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bond at bedtime if we
pile on the bed and chat about teenage girl stuff is food for my soul….and
maybe too much information for Dempsey. </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 10pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">And I’ve
been taking my work home too a bit lately, thinking of people I work with who
are a lot worse off than me…their heartbreak…their ‘deal in life’ and its
difficult sometimes to accept life can be so shitty and there’s nothing I can
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My personal life has hit heartbreak
and it seems my shoulders are heavy lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And I’m trying to channel my past strength back into my soul to
survive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">But
what does survival look like?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">I know
survival looks like being able to smile again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Survival
is feeling alive, or doing whatever makes you feel alive, like driving my car
with the roof off and feeling the wind in my hair and the sun warming my face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Survival
is never giving up on a day if you’re given an opportunity to enjoy life’s
pleasures!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Survival
is crying when you need to, releasing the endorphins that tears bring….and
being able to start again tomorrow….and know “It WILL get better.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Its
seeing the bottom of a bottle when nothing else will relieve ‘that’ pain….being
able to disappear in a bottomless glass of red wine….even if it is for a few
hours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Its
knowing when to protect your heart, and saying yes to the things that will lead
you on a path where one day you know the sun will shine through the grey bits
again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Survival
is knowing that nothing else can destroy you because you’ve already been
destroyed…you’ve been to the bowels of life and you understand there’s nothing
else but finding happiness in the little things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Which
brings me back to HOPE and those trees…..</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">In February this year we had devastating bush fires not far from my home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Driving past the area that was ravaged by fire and seeing the tree’s on the side of the road reminded me about HOPE.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">These trees that have been thriving and growing for years were suddenly ravaged by fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few months ago they were hopeless black sticks…their core ravished…dead wood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, they’ve survived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Driving past I couldn’t help but notice the new growth, the tiny green leaves that have sprouted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first signs of survival…….</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">We can
all be resilient like those tree’s....coming back from the abyss, where we’ve been burnt to the core,
lifeless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>We can grow new roots and have
hope that tomorrow is a new day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>We can
try to push through our hardships and survive and even though there seems to be
no life left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The human spirit can
overcome.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">And I am struggling at the
moment, but I need to remember…like the trees, I will survive.... x<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-17761926787990522442013-08-13T04:42:00.001-07:002013-08-13T04:42:16.718-07:00Grief the Puppeteer X<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkzcDBMWBjip1Rj9MXB55idL_YsoFepdhhu_FBtqZFg9EiY2z5lCW5Vf3EIN0mcLtcJ2utOspijpw4_uzTKICCCDbaBT6Zvyw8u-gRIqhFcbB3wq7AxnuJTqiQhKT0juzIOkmNe-dh-UM/s1600/blog1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkzcDBMWBjip1Rj9MXB55idL_YsoFepdhhu_FBtqZFg9EiY2z5lCW5Vf3EIN0mcLtcJ2utOspijpw4_uzTKICCCDbaBT6Zvyw8u-gRIqhFcbB3wq7AxnuJTqiQhKT0juzIOkmNe-dh-UM/s1600/blog1.bmp" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p>It’s been so long since I’ve written anything…and I feel a
bit ashamed about that. I was reminded today by Lu, who sent me a message saying two little words..."Thank you... for giving me hope...after the death of my teenage son Adem who died from Leukemia" Lu wrote me beautiful words which helped put my fingers on the keys tonight in hope of helping someone who
might’ve just had a day like I did today!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
For you Lu, with thanks for inspiring me.... x</span><br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>A lot has happened since I last wrote.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>H A
V E <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>J O B!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One I love and one I think found me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m working with families who’ve had a child placed in their care,
usually due to abandonment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s called
kinship care, and it’s similar to what my mum and dad did with support for my
brother in law Tone.</div>
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Anyway, I love it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
feel like all my experiences in life and being ‘that’ person that was desperate
for help when Savannah was sick can finally be channeled into being someone
else’s hero….like so many were for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its
fuel to get a phone call from a client, just to say “Thank you!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Never underestimate the power of those two little
words!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But my clients don’t know my story, cos it’s
not about me, and they don’t secretly know that in helping them, my daughter,
sister and mum’s deaths have meaning….its what drives me to get out of bed
every day.</div>
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Which brings me to today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Today we had a training day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
I must admit, I was looking forward to a cruisey day at “Art Therapy” as the
email stated that I hit ‘reply…accept’ to.</div>
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What I didn’t know is what would be stirred up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>My work collegues and I filed into a room, and sat in a
circle while the ‘Art Therapist’ discussed the process we would go through
making a puppet that would assist us with our child clients…a puppet!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was quietly amused to think making a
cardboard puppet could in any way be therapeutic.</div>
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We closed our eyes and meditated on who in our life had
inspired us, has had a huge impact on us…and she said “you’ll stumble on the
right person they’ll come into your mind and find you!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I instantly thought of my beautiful Mum.</div>
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We lined up and grabbed cardboard templates and started
cutting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The therapist telling us not to
be surprised as to the emotions making this puppet would stir in us….or in the
future in our clients.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My colleague and
I fought over the paint, light heartedly giggling at our child like cutting
techniques….until we were told like school children, “No Talking!” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Silently, everyone went about making their cardboard
puppets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I instantly knew I wanted my
puppet’s head to be like a sun, like the shining light in my life my mum
was…and still is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<br />
I painted my puppet a sunny yellow, with her arms wide open like Mum's always were...and I painted her
fingernails and toes, like mum always reminded me would make me feel
better…even if it’s only nail polish…it reminds me of her and always does the
trick if I feel like a gratis gift.<br />
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<br />
Music filled the room and like a conduit….started my
emotional connection not just with my art, but with the little things that
would turn this puppet into a symbol of my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And all of a sudden my psyche turned from fun
into a poignant snowball that I couldn’t stop from escalating into a giant ball
of sensations…and it scared me that I had no control….in a room full of new
work mates!<br />
<br />
The silence was broken with “Five minutes to go!” <br />
<br />
<br />
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Phew, I was glad the session was almost over, I’d dodged a
melt down!<o:p> </o:p></div>
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I sat and looked proudly at my puppet, at the faint smear of
red paint I’d placed on her chest to represent mum’s soul…her amazing spirit
that I miss so much and that reminds me to “Be happy Darling!”</div>
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And then we were told we had to break into groups and
discuss our puppets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s silly but
I was dreading “if” I could keep it together!<br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My work collegues
certainly don’t know my journey….and you know, most people don’t know your
demons…what you think about at night when the house is still and you can’t
escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the truth is no one knows…
whats in your heart, that blunt force of grief that hits sometimes and you
can’t wish it out of your head. </div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I listened to Jane and John discuss their puppets, and who
the puppet represented would say about them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And like a snow ball set in motion, that mind numbing feeling of dread
and burning tears began to sear in my eyes and throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to concentrate on Janes patterned scarf,
and the brown mole on Johns face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it
wasn’t working…it was my turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
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I couldn’t do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was like the snow ball had grown into a fully fledged avalanche.</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
As I grabbed my throat, I started bawling, sobbing…in front
of two people that I hardly knew, and who didn’t know what to do with
me!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted the ground to open up and
I wanted to disappear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My composure was
lost…gone, there was no getting it back.</div>
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Jane rubbed my back and tried to comfort me, but I could see
the horror and helplessness in her eyes….and I wanted to escape….so I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To the toilet, where I sat in a stall and
sobbed like one of my little clients.</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
How I under estimated the power of this therapy session and
how it’s taught me we’re never ‘over it’ that no amount of time takes away the
hurt and sometimes we have to succumb to the pain and just let it sit with
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Today reminded me maybe I should still visit the idea of
therapy, that maybe I need more sessions like today to quiet those demons.</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Dempsey certainly reminded me at dinner that I definitely
need more art classes to polish up my puppet making skills….with “Its not that
good Mummy…who is it meant to be?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
But my only thought as I looked at Dempsey’s innocent
smiling face was…."I hope one day Demps may make a puppet…and she’ll choose to
do her mother…with an armor that’s shining as brightly as the yellow I chose
for my Mother today." x</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
</div>
Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-63352932081892654822013-04-27T03:54:00.001-07:002013-04-27T04:19:37.507-07:00Musings on upcoming Mothers Day. x<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My beautiful mum loved camellias and Youth Dew perfume and Carly Simon and bubbly champagne…in a crystal glass! She loved laughing with her friends and dressing up for a night out in high heels. She loved the pink cherry blossoms that framed our house and early mornings where the sun streams in through a window…she loved McDonalds Caramel Sundaes and Spring was her favorite month. She also loved me….<br />
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Do you ever smell a memory? I do, especially if I wander past someone who is wearing my mum’s signature scent. If I get a whiff of Youth Dew, its like my mum is around, it invades my senses, invokes comfort and releases old memories like sitting on my mums lap, in our over sized velvet lounge chairs in front of our gas heater when I was a little girl…how safe I felt wrapped up in mums arms, like nothing could hurt me.<br />
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I write about mum because today I opened a magazine and there was a camellia, there’s always something to evoke a memory….and of course Mothers Day is again just around the corner. <br />
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The stores already have all the Mother’s Day banners hung. Boring women’s magazines have the “mum” stories on the cover….and I’m feeling the pangs of hurt that I can’t seem to escape this time of year….every year.<br />
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I miss my mum, I miss her everyday. I think the hardest part is when something exciting happens that I want to tell her about. But I can’t. And I think that’s the challenging bit when you miss someone who’s irreplaceable….you have to accept it and work through the fact that they’re no longer here.<br />
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And then there’s Savannah…my daughter, who should also be here on Mother’s Day. When you’ve lost a child, Mothers Day loses all importance…its more like “Torture Day.” It’s a cruel reality that I’ll never have both my daughter’s here on that special Sunday…and it’s something I don’t think I’ll ever get over…its something that I work on e v e r y s i n g l e year..period! <br />
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<em>My first Mother's Day as a Mum with Savannah</em><br />
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I am wondering if this year will be a little better…or not, maybe more thought provoking. You see this year will be the first one I’ve spent with my sister’s children…who don’t have their mum here either. <br />
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I feel this mother’s day I’ll pour my love not just into Dempsey but into my nephews and nieces, who I know loathe the day like I do. And it helps to know unfortunately, there’s so many others out there that are in the same predicament as me….with lost daughters and sons…and mother’s. <br />
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And if you're missing your Mum...or your precious child...I hope there's somebody special you can hug who can fill your cup with sunshine if its blue....hugs have a way of transferring love I think....<br />
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I don’t like to spoil special days for Dempsey…so I’ll be enthusiastic when she gifts me something unique as she always does…..but I feel everyday is Mother’s Day for me. I don’t need a card or a present, or to be taken out for lunch to remind me of how lucky I am…that I am a mother, to two girls…I always will be….<br />
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<em>My precious Demps...:)</em><br />
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I know it’s a miracle to have Dempsey alive, and I’m so thankful that Savannah was mine…even though it was only for four short years. <br />
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And I can transfer my love into my sister’s four kids….for I know they miss not having a mother too! <br />
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And mum, oh my mum....I cry as I type this…..her undeniable and unconditional love for me is fuel not to be sad, to live life passionately like she did with her love for all things that fed her spirit…and in turn, me.<br />
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And I’ll always be grateful for that.<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com69tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-21181619488498321032013-03-16T00:09:00.000-07:002013-03-16T00:55:05.848-07:00After a sibling dies - Replacement Children<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A few days ago I was contacted by Dr Abigail Brenner, a Psychiatrist from New York. Dr Brenner had read a few articles from my blog and asked if I’d be able to write an article to be published in a book she’s writing with co-author Rita Battat Silverman titled “The Replacement Child.”<br />
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The replacement child is a term often referred to a child who is conceived to replace a child who’s died or in my case, ‘<em>a sibling who takes over a role for a sibling who’s died at an older age’</em>. <br />
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However, in my instance, my daughter Dempsey and I share a unique perspective in the fact that we <em><strong>both</strong></em> have lost our sister’s and <em><strong>both</strong></em> are seen as replacement children.<br />
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I thought I’d share the article I wrote for Dr Brenner in hope it helps anyone out there that is also a ‘replacement child’ or is struggling after the death of a sibling.<br />
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Keep an eye out for Dr Brenner’s book. I’ll be posting details when it’s published. Dr Brenner’s website is<a href="http://www.abigailbrenner.com/" target="_blank"> http://abigailbrenner.com</a> where she’s written some fantastic articles. She’s also a contributor to <a href="http://www.psychologytoday.com/">http://www.psychologytoday.com</a> which is a resource full of outstanding articles that can help. <br />
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Here is my article on Sibling Loss – Replacement Children;<br />
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<em>This is the last photo I have of my sister and me...its a reminder to take more photos....</em><br />
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My daughter and I share a special bond. Both our only sister’s have died. <br />
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The death of my first child Savannah created the same unique loss for my other daughter Dempsey. <br />
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Sometimes, we are known as ‘replacement children’.<br />
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However, I feel I have an advantage over Dempsey, because I’m an adult. I can comprehend the ‘how’ and ‘whys’ and can process my sadness to a greater degree. Dempsey is only a tiny ten years old, she was almost two when her sister Savannah died at the age of four and a half. She never knew her! I’m thankful I had 34 years with my sister Tarnia.<br />
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However, I’ve learned, no matter the age, the feelings and thoughts after losing a sibling are similar. The only difference is Dempsey’s questions about her sister’s death are unfiltered….honest, unlike mine which I hide most days like a shameful secret.<br />
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Yesterday, Dempsey and I had a chat about the loss of her sister Savannah, and my sister Tarnia, as we sometimes do. <br />
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You see yesterday, my sister’s twin daughters Emerald and Charlotte were over at our house for a swim, the splashing going on in the pool went from giggles to tears in a heartbeat.<br />
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An argument erupted over a silly game, “Marco Polo”…and when the twins left, Dempsey burst into a ball of tears in my arms. Crying about the argument, because she loves her cousins, they’re like sister’s to her. Sister’s like the one she doesn’t have here.<br />
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I hugged her and we chatted about the silly fight. I told her she has to be kind to her cousins, to forgive them. That one day, Daddy and I will be gone and it’ll be important she has her cousins in her life as she doesn’t have her sister here….or any other sibling.<br />
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Later, when she was in bed, I thought about our conversation, I always wrestle with guilt that she doesn’t have her sister here and that I couldn’t give her another sibling. I thought how the death of a brother or sister leave lifetime scars, a cocktail of emotions that linger on years after their deaths. <br />
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For me, losing my sister changed my identity. It changed my place in our family from being the baby to stepping up into my sister’s shoes and becoming a replacement for her….in many many ways. I still struggle with some of the fall out of her death. It never goes away, and if anything, as time goes on, it gets harder because she’s not here. I think that’s the most challenging thing, that death is final.<br />
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Some of the things I struggled with and still do are these;<br />
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<u><strong>Guilt;</strong></u> Guilt that it wasn’t me that died. Why her and not me? Guilt that after some time, I could laugh again and enjoy life….and Tarnia never would again.<br />
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Guilt that I get to witness her children growing up and not her! It was me that attended her son Alexander’s Graduation, and me that her other son Fraser pours his love into. Me that got to take her twin daughters shopping for their first bra…. <br />
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I also have guilt that as Dempsey grows into a woman she won’t have her sister here to support her when she needs someone. And I can’t dismiss these feeling’s, I’ve learned how to accept that this is part of who I am now. <br />
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I’ve managed to channel my grief over my sister’s death into something constructive by keeping a journal of memories about Tarnia that’s helped me to heal and relieve some of my guilt. Her four children, especially her twin daughter’s who were only six months old when she died will cherish this one day. <br />
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<strong><u>Sadness;</u></strong> The sadness comes and goes. On difficult days like birthdays and anniversaries it returns in force. However, for a long time after Tarnia died it was like I was invisible. Everyone was supporting Mom and Dad, and rightly so, not many people asked the simple question, “How are you doing Diana?” I was left alone to deal with losing my sister while at the same time morphing into my mother’s role, comforting her as she was inconsolable. And because of this I hide my tears from Dempsey when she cries for her sister….it’s heartbreaking, but I never want her to feel she somehow has to ‘fix’ my grief or that she’s responsible for my happiness because of her sister’s death. <br />
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I fear Dempsey will also have guilt as we were praying Dempsey’s stem cells from her cord blood would save Savannah…but this wasn’t to be and I’m afraid this may play on her psyche in years to come…that she couldn’t save her sister too.<br />
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<strong><u>Anxiety;</u></strong> Anxiety is now part of my being, like the birthmark on my neck; I carry it around everyday because of my sister and my daughter’s death. I’ve become a helicopter Mom as a result of that anxiety and fear. Because I know in a heartbeat that life can change. <br />
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I hate Dempsey being out of my sight, and I worry when she wants to be a thrill seeker, jumping off a pier or kayaking on our lake! Sometimes, Dempsey reminds me to “Stop Mommy!” And I hate myself for not being able to control this evil twin that I live with. <br />
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<strong><u>Anger;</u></strong> After Tarnia died, I was angry at her, which was ridiculous! Anger that she caused so much pain to Mom and Dad…to her husband and kids….that she altered my life.<br />
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Anger at my Dad that sometimes he favored my sister’s children over mine, I feel he still does this sometimes. It’s a demon I still struggle with. <br />
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<u><strong>Wondering;</strong></u> The reflecting and wondering is unyielding, relentless…for me it’s the ultimate emotion in the grief process. I know Dempsey always wonder’s too. She often asks; <em>“What was Savannah like?” “Did she love me?” “What would it be like if my sister was still here?”</em>…amongst so many questions she longs to know, as do I…and I realize that she’ll struggle with this as her life unfolds. <br />
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For a long time after my sister and my daughter died the wondering became an obsession. Once I followed a stranger around the supermarket because she looked so much like my sister…I couldn’t stop staring at her…and imagining, just for a second it was Tarnia! <br />
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And some nights, I watch Dempsey sleep, soaking in the resemblance between my child who’s here and the one who’s not. I also know I can’t fix this part of Dempsey’s life…without her sister, it’s something I can only give her tools to deal with as she grows.<br />
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Sibling grief runs as deep as losing my child. It’s always there, however different, it’s shaped and molded me into a new person. <br />
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I feel my biggest responsibility now is to be there for my sister’s children, to love them and support them. And then there’s Dempsey. She will feel the ripples of her sister’s death her whole life….like I do. <br />
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I can’t change that, however I can take what I’ve learned through having experienced the same unique loss and provide her with guidance and knowledge that she is her own special irreplaceable being. To never make her feel she is inferior to her sister who isn’t here or that she’ll never live up to who Savannah was to me. <br />
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I <em>can</em> reinforce she should never have guilt, that she’s innocent of not being able to save her sister. <em>Instead</em> of sadness she should be happy she had a sister, and that we have photos and meaningful videos and my memories of their time together. And also that anger and anxiety create unhappiness. I teach her we all have choices that will shape who we become, so to always choose to live life to the fullest and enjoy every moment she’s blessed with.<br />
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However, the wondering.....that’s something I think she’ll learn to incorporate into her life…as I have, a byproduct of grief that losing a loved one, especially a sibling brings.<br />
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Yes, Dempsey and I share not just a mother/daughter relationship but a connection, that as an adult she will come to understand and if I lead by example, and demonstrate to her that girl friends and cousins <em>can</em> be sisters, family you choose for yourself! <br />
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That all is not lost, and that lessons in losing a sibling teach us compassion and appreciation and that’s something I will be grateful my sister left me with forever……like her death.<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-91159775182897006722013-02-28T01:12:00.000-08:002013-02-28T02:29:38.084-08:00Merging Grief.... x<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<em>This is a sunset outside our home...breathtaking!</em><br />
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Our new house sits on top of a hill. Some day’s I feel like I’m King of the Castle!<br />
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On a clear day, you can see hills miles from our home…..and on a really clear day :), you can see the roads that snake up these hills. Probably ones that farmers herd their cows along! <br />
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Last night, I was sitting on our deck, sipping a chilled glass of New Zealand Sav Blanc, watching gnarly storm clouds roll in when Dempsey wandered out, fresh from the shower, in her mismatched jammies.....one of her endearing habits that makes me smile…and nag sometimes that she can’t get the matching bit right. :) Anyway, getting back to the story...<br />
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Sometimes, Dempsey’s off the cuff comments cause me to reflect. <br />
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Standing out in the dirt, in her clean pj’s she stared out at the horizon and said; <em>“Mummy, look at the sky. It’s a mix of day and night!” </em><br />
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“Yes, you’re right Precious!” I agreed. <br />
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The sky was contrasted in dark AND light….starting to merge into one. <br />
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And it reminded me of my journey through grief. <br />
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How after time, sometimes a long time, your sadness begins to merge with your happiness and you find you begin to get a handle on your emotions. <br />
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That those dark days happen less, as glimmers of light through life’s cherished moments and support from family and friends cause cracks to appear in the overwhelming dismal days.<br />
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And sometimes, you have breakthroughs, like the sun shining through the clouds, like I had on Saturday. <br />
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You see on Saturday, Dempsey was invited to a sleep over at her new friend Jenny’s house. <br />
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We were to meet the family at our local pool for a swim party first. <br />
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Dempsey spent what seemed like forever getting ready…she was excited. I hadn’t really had a conversation with this little girls mum before, so I was looking forward to a friendly chat at the pool.<br />
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As soon as we got there, Dempsey raced over to her friends who were lining up at the diving board. <br />
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I wandered over to the picnic bench and thanked Jenny’s mum for inviting Dempsey. And it’s a funny thing but I haven’t been confronted with having to tell ‘my story’ with a stranger for a while…well not since meeting Rose in the park in the USA.<br />
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And this is where my breakthrough came.<br />
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The conversation went like this;<br />
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<em>“So Diana, what are you going to do while we have Dempsey sleep over? Do you have a free night or do you have your other daughter at home tonight?”</em><br />
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As soon as this mum said these words I knew she thought Dempsey’s sister was alive!<br />
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I was taken aback! I've never been asked this question...ever...as most people know about Savannah...that she will never be at home again! But oh how I wish.....<br />I felt odd.<br />
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I felt strong. <br />
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I <em>didn’t</em>’ feel like I was about to cry for once, or dread the reaction I knew I’d get. I actually smiled, <strong>s.m.i.l.e.d</strong>…wow, progress for me! <br />
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Usually I have to have had a few drinks not to cry or at least tear up or feel guilty about the effect telling someone about the death of my daughter has on them. <br />
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I smiled as I said, <em>“Our other daughter Savannah isn’t alive, she passed away when she was four and a half…I’ll be by myself tonight!” </em><br />
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And I know now what to expect when you drop the bombshell….how it triggers an air of awkwardness. <br />
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The mum answered with; <em>“Oh, I’m so sorry, Jenny told me Dempsey has an older sister!”</em> as she stared at her feet……..<br />
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I was so proud of myself, I actually said, <em>“Thank you! Dempsey does have an older sister, she’s just not here with us anymore.” </em><br />
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And there it was, the elephant in the room, or by the pool so to speak! <br />
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Another mother I hadn’t met, who was standing beside her, blurted one of the most stupid comments I’ve heard in years! With a rush of words she stated; <em>“Everything happens for a reason I think!”</em><br />
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WTF!! <br />
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Happens for a reason??? <br />
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What reason, I wanted to snark back. <br />
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But I didn’t! <br />
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I held my composure and actually felt sorry for her. It’s taken me a long time to get to this place! <br />
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So last night, thinking about my perceptive Demps and her comments about the sky merging made me realize my emotions from my grief journey have also merged, the line most days now isn’t definitive…it’s dark mixed <strong>brightly </strong>with light, sadness <strong>dimmed</strong> by my happiness, dark nights,<strong> illuminated</strong> by grateful days. <br />
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It’s a mix of holding on and letting go. It always will be.....<br />
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And I know some people aren’t where I’m at yet, it can take years…but you will be, I promise, one day…..<br />
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It hasn’t rained here for months. <br />
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But last night, Demps and I watched the skies grow darker, we listened to thunder rumbling in the distance…..and then heavens let loose. <br />
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I welcomed the refreshing rain, breathing it in…thinking about how far I’ve come….<br />
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After all, in this life, one thing I know for sure….it’s all about learning to dance in the rain! x<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-77741543909958068612013-02-14T02:43:00.001-08:002013-02-14T02:47:03.421-08:00Special kids bring special awareness... x<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Dempsey and I were running late for school this morning. <br />
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I was rushing, cranky, trying to make the green light which turned red in the distance, “Damn!” I said under my breathe, as I noticed a side street that might be a short cut to Dempsey’s new school. <br />
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I clicked my blinker on and swerved down the unfamiliar street. And I’m glad I did. I discovered there’s another school hidden beneath trees behind Dempsey’s school.<br />
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As I weaved my way round past this ‘other’ school I noticed kids getting off a bus…being helped off a bus….special kids…kids with cerebral palsy…kids in wheel chairs…kids with noticeable disabilities. And I instantly thought of Savannah.<br />
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I pulled up outside Dempsey’s prestigious private school and she leapt out, back pack heaved up on her back…her skinny legs sprinting down the pavement and in the gate just as the bell rang.<br />
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I watched Demps run through the entrance of her school. <br />
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And I sat there and reflected on what it’d be like if Savannah was still alive and attending that ‘special’ school? And how it seemed like now, a simple asphalt road and a twist of fate is the only thing separating me from ‘that life’….my old life…across the road from where I was parked. <br />
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I sat in my car for a while, watching parents devotedly deliver their special children through that ‘different’ gate. <br />
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It stirred up a few emotions…<br />
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A longing for Savannah, utmost respect for the special Mums’ of these special children and a wondering of what life would be like if Savannah was still alive and I was still one of those mums…cos I was once. <br />
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I know from having the privilege of a special needs child, one with a terminal illness, that needed a lot of care, that you treasure every. little. thing. your ‘special’ child achieves. <br />
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Like smiles amongst their pain, or a night where they have peace….you accept this is how your life is…and you wouldn’t have it any other way…you wouldn’t swap your baby for anything! <br />
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Sure, you’d change the suffering if you could, however experiencing adversity changes us, makes us grow and become more compassionate to others on Struggle Street. And I’m thankful to Savannah for teaching me that. <br />
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I wonder if those mums feel isolated like I did when Savvy was sick and I couldn’t leave the house? Or if they look across the road and yearn for a different life, like I once did? But today, watching from my car window, I envied them…they still have their precious children with them, hardships and all. And I know they wouldn’t swap their kids for the ones lining up at Dempsey’s school.<br />
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I know their children are their teaches, as Savannah continues to be to me, that the rewards in having a special child are enormous. <br />
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So today, these kids were reminders to me to be grateful…for what I ‘had’ and for the things I'm lucky enough to enjoy in my healthy child…..but I can still imagine, what it’d be like to be dropping my two girls off, even if it was at a special school.<br />
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And when I got home, I found this piece of cotton in our hallway, on the floor…tangled up in a somewhat music note shape….a sign maybe?? <br />
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Reminding me to stop and listen to the music…to enjoy life’s assorted notes and experiences and to be happy that I have what I do! To slow down and hug Dempsey more…and to smile and wave next time I drive down that street…..<br />
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So tomorrow, tomorrow I’m thinking, maybe, just maybe, that’ll be my new route to drop Dempsey off at school! :)<br />
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Wishing you sunshine if your cup is blue today and a reminder to stop and enjoy the rays.....even if someday's they're hidden beneath the grey..... :) x<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-44687318951730934762013-02-08T02:26:00.001-08:002013-02-08T03:00:39.179-08:00Tomorrow's :) x<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This saying seems appropriate for me today…or this week. To quote Pink’s song – Blow me one more kiss – <em>“Just when I think it can't get worse, I had a shit day (no!) You had a shit day (no!), we've had a shit day (no!)</em><br />
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I’ve had my heart set on a job that I know I’d be passionate about….that I applied for and have been waiting all week to hear if I at least got an interview….<br />
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I’ve never been a girl that can just ‘hold your horses’ more like a ‘giddy up’ kinda girl….so this prolonging the agony of not knowing, the carrying my cell phone in my pocket all week and checking my email every ten minutes, when this company said they’d “Inform all candidates Monday the 4th of Feb” was itching away at me like a fresh mosquito bite. <br />
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Maybe I’m just tired cos I’m waking at 4am and not able to get back to sleep… mulling everything over from my week and the ‘why’s’ I hadn’t been called yet! I even got up and watched the sun come up…. <br />
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Our dog Teddy scrambled up on the side of my bed and put his nose on my clean sheets…even his doe eyes didn’t lighten my mood!<br />
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And opening this new carton of fresh eggs certainly didn’t humor me….these little brown bum nuts smiling up at me made me want to scramble the lot of them and wipe the smiles off their shells!!!<br />
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After dropping my precious one off at school I took Teddy Dog for a sprint around the lake, breathing in the fresh air and sweating out my frustrations...music blasting in my ears….that helped a little! :) <br />
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By mid morning, it finally got the better of me and I rang the company only to be politely told interviews were taking place today….which meant obviously I didn’t make the cut, even though I ticked all the right boxes!!! <br />
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And I know after everything I’ve been through this is really a minor set back in the grand scheme of life and daily challenges people face. But today it was like the house of cards finally tumbled. I didn’t’ cry, but I was just flat…down….low, whatever you want to call it. Just disappointed I guess. <br />
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I rang my friend to have a whinge, telling him it’s the fourth job I’ve gone for and no luck…he told me, <em>“Dee, call me back when you’ve been for 100 jobs and rejected….you’re alive aren’t you??”</em> And he’s right….which is why I probably called him….it’s good to have a friend that tells you how it is…that rejection can sometimes mean something better is waiting…I hope so!<br />
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I hung up the phone, made a cup of green tea and sat back and looked around me, focusing on the beauty I’m surrounded with. I thought how shit days are shit, or shit weeks…but they don’t last…well at least that’s what I told myself as I stared out the window at our lake and the glistening reflection caught in our pool fence…the pelican party going on right outside our house. <br />
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I took a deep breathe in and thought of other people worse off than me, especially kids suffering at the Children’s Hospital, or loved ones hooked up to Chemo in Cancer wards….I told myself to buck up, something else better will come along, I’ve just got to trust the Universe and not lose faith in my ability to keep trying. It’s called strength not weakness, we all have it if we dig deep....and I know I’m good for it.<br />
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And just as I was starting to feel I was turning my frown upside down, our bloody neighbor’s dog sprinted past our window……hanging out of his mouth was the new FULL packet of our cat’s food he’d stolen from our garage!!!!<br />
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I leapt up and hammered on the glass….but he didn’t stop, he ran faster…under his fence he bolted……success! :)<br />
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I finally had to laugh; at least someone’s had a win in our neighborhood today! :)<br />
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Anyway, I hit the supermarket, bought myself a bottle of bubbles, which I’m enjoying , in a crystal glass for my mum...as I’m typing this. <br />
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My sisters twins are here tonight, having a sleep over with Dempsey while Tone’s taken Fraser out for a father/son bonding dinner. <br />
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The girls just asked me what my blog tonight is about…so I told them, and asked what they’d say to me to make me feel better that I didn’t get the job. They smiled as they said, “You just gotta suck it up Princess” :) And I have, and I am, it's not what really matters.<br />
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I know tomorrow is a new day. And to anyone fighting their own battle today, probably bigger than mine....tomorrow's, well tomorrow's never run out you know!<br />
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Cheers x<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-31589143174743480272013-01-20T21:59:00.001-08:002013-01-21T01:16:59.536-08:00The gift a box full of darkness brings....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One thing my journey through grief has taught me is to see the beauty in the world. <br />
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After last week, after Savannah’s anniversary, I’ve learnt hitting rock bottom…going to that basement of agony enhances the ecstasy and the bliss that life is full of…if you look for it…take it in, breathe it, live it….and most of all…enjoy it. <br />
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I’ve learned that if you travel to that pit, there’s only one place to go…and that’s to climb aboard the elevator of life and hit the <em><strong>up</strong></em> button….back to your starting point where you rebuild and embrace the life you have…and notice the good bits.<br />
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And when you can do that….you find clarity.<br />
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After a day of feeling flat after Savvy’s anniversary I decided to get out of the house and take Dempsey, my sister’s twins and their friend to an enchanting spot I’d heard about called “The Blue Pools”…it even sounds magical right? :)<br />
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A forty minute drive through thick dense Australian bush leads you down a twisty, almost one lane (scary) road to a clearing where you can park and wander down a dusty track to this piece of paradise….wow!<br />
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Like a swimming hole you read about in a book…the clear cold water is surrounded by walls of natural rock…with the blue sky as the back drop…rustic pebbles line the bottom of the pools. It took my breathe away!<br />
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And it’s times like this I wonder if I’d see this beauty without having travelled through grief…whether I’d take it for granted, or just not be able to appreciate how lucky I am to be able to recognize the value of something so beautiful…and free! :)<br />
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Watching the girls wade out and shriek at how cold the water was made me laugh….and Teddy bark! :)<br />
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I stood with my feet in the cool water, and contemplated, as I always do, how during challenges you can’t fight the process. Whether it’s a small problem or a large one…a trickle, a gush….or, a down pour! <br />
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When facing hard stuff, it’s like you’re paddling upstream against a strong current…but if you let go…and go with the flow and don’t fight…you find the current washes you back down stream to safety…..to start again…and that’s a beautiful thing!<br />
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I’ve learned being happy with who I am and accepting how my life is has a huge affect on facing any hard days. I know my grief will always follow me around like my shadow…and some days it will be like a giant in my life, over shadowing every piece of my being....<br />
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But other times it’s small and stunted and doesn’t eclipse my day….it moves into the shade and its not overpowering.<br />
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It can’t take the limelight away from enjoying the tiniest of moments…like taking these three tweens for ice cream…sitting and listening to their simple stories about the goings on in their lives….and seeing Dempsey smile…or seeing her laugh….or feeling her hand in mine. Those moments will forever outshine the bad bits…even if it tags along….it will never outshine my spirit or my love for life…<br />
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How privileged I am. :) x<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-7808346711906538332013-01-13T23:12:00.003-08:002013-01-13T23:12:39.358-08:00Another Anniversary Bubby.... x<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<em>To all my beautiful family and friends who remembered our Angel today…<strong>Thank You</strong>…your loving support, flowers, gentle words and thoughts are more than any mother and friend could ever hope for. x</em><br />
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Today is your day Bubby…..<br />
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I woke up early this morning as the sun sliced through our bedroom blinds, pouring a steady stream of light onto my doona. <br />
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It’s difficult to see the sun this morning.<br />
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Outside my window I could hear the soft hum of our pool filter kick in…the sheep across our lake bleating for their breakfast and Teddy scratching at the laundry door to be let out….life goes on….and that’s the hard bit.<br />
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I lay in bed and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe….my pillow soaked from my tears.<br />
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Today is the one day every year I dread....it hurts.<br />
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Thinking of what you went through Bubby…of your pain, at your tiny body struggling to die…these memories will always make me cry today and make me so so sorry as your mummy that I couldn’t help you.<br />
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I hate today and all it represents….all the awful memories it holds.<br />
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I thought yesterday…maybe this year I’d be okay...but there are no rules! <br />
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But I can’t forget.<br />
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This morning I am sad.<br />
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I feel very alone in my grief.<br />
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This morning I’m transported back in time…..I have no one here to give me a hug, I can’t call my mum or go and visit her for the comfort and words I know she’d have to make me feel better. <br />
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Today I’m having a pity party…and that’s ok too.<br />
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I’m disappointed that Daddy chose yesterday to leave for the USA…knowing he knows today is your day….and that maybe I need him…. <br />
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Today I’ll go to Poppies for a hug….but Poppie isn’t comfortable with being compassionate about today…he thinks “you have to get on with it” and “not think about it all”…and that its easy…but Poppie knows deep down its not easy….because I’ve seen the pain in his eyes when he lost his daughter too.<br />
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This morning I am sad.<br />
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The only thing that’s going to put some sunshine in my day today is a little girl who’s in her room a few walls away…who’s happy and healthy and alive. <br />
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I know Dempsey will throw her arms around my neck and squeeze me tight….and that will help.<br />
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And today I’ll take her somewhere special and do something fun that you couldn’t do Bubby…cos that’s all mummy can do to relieve my guilt and sadness that <em>you</em> aren’t in your room, tucked up safely sleeping…and I’ll never understand why…it makes no sense.<br />
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As each year passes, you get further away…fragments of your time with us disappear…and the new memories don’t come…and I think that’s the hardest bit about missing you.<br />
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You’re never far from my thoughts…I miss you and miss who you’d be today. But I’m grateful people will remember your sweet ways and do something they love today in your honor.<br />
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Today I’ll try and remember you as you were…beautiful and sweet and shy…with golden curls and a love for books…and your big blue eyes…always smiling Bubby…and I hope you think of Mummy like that too, smiling, and always grateful you were mine.<br />
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And I know tomorrow will be a new day….as it will be wherever you are…..<br />
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I’ll always carry you in my heart Bubby…no matter where you are….. x<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-60676581458362509902013-01-11T03:58:00.000-08:002013-01-11T04:17:18.352-08:00Christmas Cheer and Facing Fears... x<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Yesterday we finally took down our Christmas tree.<br />
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Its branches were crisp and dry, its needles dropping to the floor as Dempsey and I pulled one after another of the decorations from its dead branches….<br />
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And while we were doing this Demps piped up and said, “<em>I wonder what we’ll be doing next year when we decorate the tree Mummy?”</em><br />
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My wise little ten year old made me contemplate this…and I thought to myself: Yes, I wonder what we’ll be doing…how much my baby will grow and change both in centimeters and spirit through different life experiences she’ll be exposed to? <br />
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What I’ll be doing...if I'll change? <br />
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What people will enter and leave our lives?<br />
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In a few days time it'll be our daughter Savannah's Anniversary...her passing also makes me contemplate fears and change...she taught me a lot about being brave!<br />
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<em>My brother in law Tone, and my sister's twins and Fraser, minus Alexander!</em><br />
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Like our Christmas tree, life changes, brings new and exciting stuff each day…and of course the boring mundane chores like washing and cleaning, both of which I might add I’m enjoying in our new home…a new house seems to make it all worth it!<br />
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It seems the kids have evolved too…grown fins and prune fingers and turned into mermaids! :)<br />
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They’re loving our pool, and I’m loving watching them through the glass…watching the innocent fun these girls seem to find in a game of “Marco Polo!”<br />
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Our Christmas day is always different with so many chairs missing family members that should be here….especially our daughter Savannah...but we're all grateful to celebrate together and enjoy the day....<br />
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This year it was my dad missing..…he was too sick to enjoy devouring our turkey and traditional steaming plum pudding laced with coins…even though I sent a plate to him…..the kids didn’t seem affected that Poppie wasn’t here which was great… <br />
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I contemplated what our table would be like without his comforting presence if his vacant chair was permanent. I missed my dad this year, really missed him more than I thought. <br />
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But he’s on the mend, only yesterday, finally being diagnosed with whooping cough…who would’ve thought?? <br />
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But whooping cough is fixable…and curable, so I know he’ll be back around our family T in no time! And that makes me a very happy camper!!<br />
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Christmas night, Peter pulled out all stops, opening Santa’s sack and enlightening the kids night with glow sticks, masks, crackers and candy! <br />
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I sat back and watched, smiling at how lucky I am to be able to witness these kids still enjoying the simple joy a piece of plastic with glowing jelly inside can bring!<br />
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Its Summer in Oz and we’ve had a few hot days…so as a family, we decided to hit the beach. <br />
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The only hang up I had about driving the twenty minutes to one of natures wonders, is that to get there you have to drive along the road that my sister Tarnia was killed on. And I <em>thought</em> I’d be okay about that!<br />
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I haven’t been on this remote wooded road for years….and in a profound awkward way I discovered a basic black strip of concrete, that hundreds of people travel on every week, still does my head in!! <br />
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I know by now to pick my battles with the grief vampires! How they can sometimes suck the life out of you…change your mood and take away your breath in a second. <br />
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And as silly as that may sound to some, I’ve decided to take the easy way out next time and just not go! <br />
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I think it’s easier than facing some of my demons of going over and over what my sister would’ve been doing while she was driving down that narrow pretty piece of road…what she was thinking…what her children went through, and of course having to face all those dark shadowed memories of the days after her death. <br />
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However, all that aside, it was finally worth it when we got there…after I’d managed to hold my breath for most of the drive down <em>that </em>road! <br />
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We had fish and chips on a wonky wooden picnic bench…the endearing sight of a famous beach side grotty BBQ that you’d only see in Australia made me smile.......<br />
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…and of course the sight of the Aussie flag always makes me feel sentimental and reminds me I’m home and safe!<br />
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Then to stumble down a tiny track leading to the ocean…with the sound of the waves crashing in the foreground and hot sand stuck in my flip flops reminded me to be grateful….Teddy was grateful and as eager as Dempsey to get there too…his first time at the ocean! <br />
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Trying to get a good photo of my baby was also a challenge…not as bad as the drive, but still a test with Teddy trying to hog the lens......<br />
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…Demps and I are still giggling at this shot! :)<br />
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So after a day of sun, surf and anxiety :), it was worth it....to get out of the house and spend a day in the fresh air, surrounded by Mother Natures medicine!<br />
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However, she didn’t manage to cure my uneasiness or fears of <em>that</em> road….even the ice cream I gorged on driving home didn’t fix my obsession of the ‘<em>what if’s’</em><em> </em>as I spent the whole trip home on the edge of my seat…focused on the side of the road....searching out the window for a white cross camouflaged in the bush land, that marked the spot where my sister took her last breath. <br />
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And you know what, we’re all different, and I wonder..maybe this year I'll grow more too and change and not let things feed my fears….but sometimes....that’s just the way it has to be...for now...and I’ve realized that’s ok too…………. x<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-51729251846509917892012-12-24T03:37:00.000-08:002012-12-24T13:22:45.507-08:00And So This Is Christmas......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It’s a strange time of year to be blogging I know...the night before Santa arrives…a night when I have so many things I should be doing, like wrapping those few straggler presents…emailing people back…and cleaning up my dinner dishes….but I feel like writing, so I thought I’d put fingers on the keyboards.<br />
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I’ve so many emotions swirling around this week…this time of year…especially with all that’s happened in Sandy Hook, with the tragic shootings. I can’t even begin to imagine what the families who’ve lost loved ones are going through tonight. It truly rips at my heart…..<br />
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The absolute endless sadness and longing I know they must be going through and of course the unanswered questions as to ‘Why?’ My heart goes out to all of those grieving who must be in the clutches of the worst grief has to offer. Tomorrow, I’ll spend time while enjoying my Christmas with quiet thoughts of them.<br />
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<em>This was today over our home...I like to think it's Heaven reaching down to us..</em><br />
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My mood has been affected a lot by the tragic events in the USA, also because my precious Dad has been in hospital with breathing difficulties and it seems he’s not Superman as I thought he always was. And this is playing deep in my psyche too. I’m not ready yet to lose him too.<br />
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Lately, I’ve been surrounded by love and invitations to many social, joyful “Christmassy” outings that have stirred up the evil twin in me that yearns for Savannah and all my loved ones around this time of year. I listen to people complaining about trivial shit and over indulgent children and how many presents their kids are getting this year…when what I want Santa to bring me will never be…but you can’t mention that reality cos it’s not politically correct…so I stay silent…but sometimes it eats me up like some vile virus...<br />
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<em>Our beautiful Angel....</em><br />
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On a more positive note, which I prefer….last week, I had the privilege of taking my beautiful twin nieces shopping…for their first ever bra! A right of passage for us girls, something soooo important as a teenager…and one I still vividly remember experiencing with my mum. The embarrassment....and excitement mixed in together as a stranger fits you in a pretty pink piece of satin.<br />
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And as I stood outside the change rooms, while Emerald and Charlotte tried on trendy size A bra’s… sticking their heads through the maroon curtain with giggles and questions…. I thought a lot about my sister Tarnia…how sad it is that she isn’t here to enjoy this moment…also, how I have this honor with my nieces that I didn’t have with my own daughter Savannah…AND how these moments are what counts…being there for the ones that need us, being present and loving with all that we have…. <br />
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I can’t change my circumstances….but I can be grateful that I’ve had this pleasure with Emerald and Charlotte…a once in a lifetime thing for us girlies…and it was…. and I thank their Dad for allowing me that!<br />
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We’ve had warm balmy days here lately…ones where the cicadas chirp in tune with the frogs in our lake…where the breeze on our back deck is like nights I remember as a kid. Where strangers in shops are tired but happy…who are all on the same mission as us…to spread love and spend time with those precious to them….that’s what Christmas is to me these days…..<br />
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The kids have been making great use of our new pool…the giggles and happiness I hear coming out of this fiberglass pit filled with water is music to my soul…even if they are loud…they are alive and full of innocent delight…and this stuff fuels my soul.<br />
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So tomorrow is Christmas…just now, I sat with my elbows resting on our kitchen bench asking Dempsey what she thinks Christmas is all about.<br />
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And as she stuffed a few more kernel’s of popcorn into her mouth…through her warbled words…this was her take….out of the mouth of my ten year old babe…maybe some of what I tell her does get through…..her words…my Christmas present this year…what more could a Mama hope for…<br />
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<em>“I think Christmas is about being grateful that I’m here and being joyful and spreading joy and all that and yeah, its not about all the presents I get, even though I love getting presents, its about being thankful and happy because this could be your last Christmas....” </em><br />
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And<em>…..”So this is Christmas</em><br />
<em>And what have you done</em><br />
<em>Another year over</em><br />
<em>And a new one just begun</em><br />
<em>And so this is Christmas</em><br />
<em>I hope you have fun</em><br />
<em>The near and the dear one</em><br />
<em>The old and the young”</em><br />
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To all those that have been touched by the Sandy Hook tragedy…tomorrow my candle will be burning brightly with you in mind…in hope that you get through your Christmas day the best way you can. X<br />
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Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9065916202005341532.post-63004033277239390252012-11-15T19:06:00.000-08:002012-11-15T19:11:18.152-08:00Through Mum's and my looking glass... x<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I think time literally flies here in Australia! Well, it has since I’ve last blogged!!!! :)<br />
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Lately I feel like I’m straight out of the pages of Alice in Wonderland…like the white rabbit.......rushing around with a clock around my neck…aware that time<em> is</em> passing by so quickly, however, not seeming to be able to slow down….<br />
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But this afternoon I’ve stopped the clock…come inside from being outside weeding to write.<br />
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You see Wednesday was my beautiful mum’s anniversary! <br />
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And I only had but a few tears….and then a big breathe in and a smile for my mum who isn’t here. <br />
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I’ve come a long way from those first few Anniversaries, where the hurt was fresh like a new wound and the realization that death is final…that we never get to see, hear, smell or touch those that are gone ever again. <br />
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And you think it’s unimaginable, a snowballs chance in hell, that the pain will lessen…but it’s only impossible if you believe it is! <br />
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Time like grief teaches us a lot of things…like to appreciate the little moments with your kids, they go from bibbed babes to tweens in a heartbeat it seems. <br />
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Time teaches us to tell those we love, just <em>how</em> much, and <em>why</em> they are special to us as we never know when we’ll see those close to our hearts again. <br />
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It teaches us that instead of regret we should <em>rejoice</em> and through grief we discover time doesn’t really heal…it just allows us a continuous current of days to learn to live with our losses.<br />
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Time has also made me realize I’m not the same girl I was…<em>I</em> think I’m a better version of my old self, because of the wisdom I’ve learnt on my journey!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcKcp2Z9NcoAarnNEbx9bZZVAAJwbDEaXnjZvIXjg3S2SyuEVzvihPrvLKIO9uC6Wvwp8S4j-DhIZPezsjf_YSq6atbMfYs0T5k1mBVwwntdknCkWwpeNDpQFtTIYaPPVeSaCeg4hbyew/s1600/alice.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="527" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcKcp2Z9NcoAarnNEbx9bZZVAAJwbDEaXnjZvIXjg3S2SyuEVzvihPrvLKIO9uC6Wvwp8S4j-DhIZPezsjf_YSq6atbMfYs0T5k1mBVwwntdknCkWwpeNDpQFtTIYaPPVeSaCeg4hbyew/s640/alice.bmp" width="640" /></a><br />
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We <em>can’t</em> go back, we can only go forward in <em>hope</em> of taking what we’ve learnt and stowing it away and using that knowledge to live life to the fullest. I know that’s what my Mum would want from me as her daughter…she was a great philosopher about time and enjoying every single day!<br />
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This is the last photo I have of Mum…my rock!<br />
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She’d actually be mortified if she knew I’d put it on my blog. But I wanted to share her amazing spirit I think I’ve captured in this picture.<br />
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It was taken only a few months before she died….Dempsey is the little bub snuggled up on her chest. And even though we knew when this was taken that Mum only had weeks to live, she’s still smiling…with her magical spark in her eyes.<br />
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A few weeks ago, I had one of my readers emailed me and ask how I prepared for the death of my daughter….as she is facing the same heartbreaking fate in the future days.....<br />
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She wanted to know how I survived? <br />
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I wrote her a long email…and I shared that one of the ways is through the wisdom my Mum instilled inside my soul.<br />
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So on my mother Beverley’s special day, I’d like to share, in her words, some of my tools that have helped me overcome and enjoy, like she did……..<br />
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<em>“Focus on the good in everything…the positive instead of the negative….you’ll always find it.”</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Don’t worry over things you can’t change, they have a way of sorting themselves out.”</em></div>
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<em>"Always be Yourself!"</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Always wear a smile, it’s the best accessory.”</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep going…things always get better.”</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Take a moment every morning to see the beauty outside your window.”</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“You can do anything you put your mind to!”</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Be happy with what you have, there’s always someone worse off.”</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Don’t leave the house without lipstick on….looking good = feeling good.” –</em> Mums choice was always apricot! :)<br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Go look at yourself in the mirror Darling and smile…you are beautiful you!”</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Champagne should always be shared with a friend in a crystal glass!”</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Be aware of the treasures in a normal day.”</em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>“Attitude drives destiny.”</em><br />
<em><br /></em>These are just a few I reflect on when I’m having a Debbie Downer day…one of my sayings I tell myself is that “Tomorrow is a new day!”<br />
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My beautiful Mum helped mold and shape who I am today…she made me strong and wise and gave me tools to be happy and to never lose my sense of amazement and surprise of just how magical being alive is….<em>even</em> on those hard days. <br />
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So now it’s my responsibility to share and guide Dempsey with what I know…and I do…I wish she forever sees the wonder in the world and finds things that feed her spirit.<br />
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So today, <em>I’ve</em> found something to feed my essence…a gorgeous wall of happiness I’ve created in our new kid’s rumpus room…timeless works of art from my<em> two</em> babies…forever captured on canvas. <br />
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But I’m really <em>not</em> Alice in Wonderland :).....I won’t wake and realize everything that’s happened in my life has been a dream.....<strong>but</strong> I can take what I’ve learnt from my adored Mum and my journey so far…I own that…it’s mine to keep! <br />
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And in the event a rabbit hole ever appears…I’ll be all more the careful...<em>and</em> wiser! :) <br />
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<em></em>Diana Doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959587005117395783noreply@blogger.com12