We had to travel interstate for a funeral recently. The funeral was on the Sunday of a long weekend so that was good, only 1 work day would be lost. Or so we thought.
The rain fell solidly for the first three days of our trip. On the day of funeral we woke early (we were staying on a farm some distance from the city where the funeral was to be), and decided to drive around to see what was happening. One crossing, over a creek that flows from town, was already cut and it was only 6.30am. We decided to drive to town to see what was happening and, not unsurprisingly, there was water over the road at the only exit out of town. Quickly driving home we packed and left with minimal goodbyes, which felt wrong. If we'd left half an hour later I doubt we would have been able to get through town and make it to the city.
The weather that day was appalling. As our good friend said in his eulogy for his father "it felt like nature was screaming". People had travelled from interstate to be at the funeral and were unable to make it from the capital up to the inland city. We knew we couldn't make it back to the farm, so booked into a hotel.
That evening we went to a fabulous Turkish restaurant for dinner - possibly the only restaurant open in the city on that wild Sunday night. We toasted our friend and ate delicious food. Returning to our hotel we were told there was no power. The power didn't come on at all that night so, after a restless night, we got up early and headed back through thick fog to the farm.
We were meant to be heading home the next day, but we already knew we couldn't make it back to the airport. Flights were changed (someone was looking after us - I'd purchased fully flexible fares so no cost to change), car hire extended and we waited out the deluge. Come Tuesday morning we did a bit of a drive around looking at the swollen creeks, marvelling at the power of nature.
It was a weird break. We were sad that we had to attend a funeral, but looking forward to spending time with family, all tempered with anxiety about the weather. Not relaxing. Our sleep patterns were all over the place - going to bed early, waking early. Perhaps the greyness made our bodies think it was winter?
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
Sponteneity
This morning I had several chores needing to be accomplished - buy a new dress for a funeral we're going to, buy sandals to match the dress, buy a birthday gift for my sister in law. I'd achieved the first two and was heading off to begin the third when I bumped into the children of a friend of mine. Their mother was in the Apple store trying to get her computer woes sorted. Knowing my friend I thought this could take some time (she seems to have ongoing computer woes that mystify me, but some people have that sort of relationship with technology!)
As an aside, on the way back to the store, when we were agreeing that technology and my friend don't mesh well her kids helpfully told me that she had once gone to the Apple store because her phone wasn't ringing. The Apple people told her that her phone was set on silent. I wasn't surprised by this. I don't think her kids were, either. Oh, and my friend is also blonde!
We rocked up and she was on the Apple store phone getting help from someone somewhere in the world. I'd already asked the kids if they'd had morning tea (no!) and neither had I. So I suggested that I whisk the kids off for morning tea - giving her peace of mind and allow her concentrate on trying to get her technology woes sorted.
The kids, knowing I'm a soft touch, had milkshakes and shared a caramel slice. I had coffee and orange and almond cake (that old standby for the wheat intolerant). And we chatted and chatted and chatted! It was lovely! They're 8 and 12. I've known them since before birth. Births which were hard won (their poor father underwent surgery in order to make it possible to have them). One of my treasured memories is standing over the crib of the eldest when she was days old, looking at this gorgeous baby my wonderful friends had created.
They are growing into lovely young people - full of life and optimism. I hope we have more spontaneous get togethers in our futures!
As an aside, on the way back to the store, when we were agreeing that technology and my friend don't mesh well her kids helpfully told me that she had once gone to the Apple store because her phone wasn't ringing. The Apple people told her that her phone was set on silent. I wasn't surprised by this. I don't think her kids were, either. Oh, and my friend is also blonde!
We rocked up and she was on the Apple store phone getting help from someone somewhere in the world. I'd already asked the kids if they'd had morning tea (no!) and neither had I. So I suggested that I whisk the kids off for morning tea - giving her peace of mind and allow her concentrate on trying to get her technology woes sorted.
The kids, knowing I'm a soft touch, had milkshakes and shared a caramel slice. I had coffee and orange and almond cake (that old standby for the wheat intolerant). And we chatted and chatted and chatted! It was lovely! They're 8 and 12. I've known them since before birth. Births which were hard won (their poor father underwent surgery in order to make it possible to have them). One of my treasured memories is standing over the crib of the eldest when she was days old, looking at this gorgeous baby my wonderful friends had created.
They are growing into lovely young people - full of life and optimism. I hope we have more spontaneous get togethers in our futures!
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Vale Barry
We received one of those phone calls today. The conversation quickly went from cheery hellos (on our end) to "Oh no" to "I'm so sorry" to "When's the funeral". I was listening in from the kitchen and my heart sank. All sorts of scenarios were unfolding in my head. The reality was that the father of my husband's best mate had passed. He had cancer, so his death wasn't unexpected, but it was sooner than anyone had anticipated.
We're both deeply saddened. He was a good man. An environmental advocate, an outstanding natural athlete, a man of integrity. His recent passion had been damselflies - collecting, identifying and learning about them. He and his wife had travelled the world, raised three gorgeous daughters and a son and had a gaggle of grand kids.
So, instead of kicking back enjoying the Australia Day break with friends, we're heading off for a celebration of a different kind. On the upside we will get to spend precious time with my husband's family - his father begins treatment for cancer the morning we leave. I fear this is not the last cancer-related funeral we will be attending this year.
We're both deeply saddened. He was a good man. An environmental advocate, an outstanding natural athlete, a man of integrity. His recent passion had been damselflies - collecting, identifying and learning about them. He and his wife had travelled the world, raised three gorgeous daughters and a son and had a gaggle of grand kids.
So, instead of kicking back enjoying the Australia Day break with friends, we're heading off for a celebration of a different kind. On the upside we will get to spend precious time with my husband's family - his father begins treatment for cancer the morning we leave. I fear this is not the last cancer-related funeral we will be attending this year.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Supporting your friends
I was talking with friend today about attending the funeral of a mutual friend's mother. The friend I was speaking with was amazed that I'd attend a funeral of someone I'd never met. Whilst I had actually met my friend's mother once, many years ago for about 30 seconds, I'm attending the funeral to show my friend that I care about her, and want to support at this time.
Other than sending a card, an email, flowers or calling, I don't know what else I would do to show my friends that I want to offer them respect and condolences at such a difficult time. I'm also interested to hear about this woman's life.
My friend's mother was a respected potter. The National Gallery has pieces of her work in their collection. I have a piece of hers (given as a gift to me years ago). Years ago I went to the last exhibition my friends mother held. Her work was the type that appealed to me - delicate but robust, gorgeous glazes. refined. You could see the confidence of the craftswomen as she had formed the clay.
Other than sending a card, an email, flowers or calling, I don't know what else I would do to show my friends that I want to offer them respect and condolences at such a difficult time. I'm also interested to hear about this woman's life.
My friend's mother was a respected potter. The National Gallery has pieces of her work in their collection. I have a piece of hers (given as a gift to me years ago). Years ago I went to the last exhibition my friends mother held. Her work was the type that appealed to me - delicate but robust, gorgeous glazes. refined. You could see the confidence of the craftswomen as she had formed the clay.
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