A haze of hopefulness and trepidation

We bought a Christmas ham this year which I did not expect to do. Although this is a traditional activity and part of the normal preparations for the festive gatherings, we are not in a normal state of being. 

So, when my husband adamantly asked for one to be ordered I simply agreed, flummoxed by the request, and arranged for my daughter to complete the task. Afterall we were in the throes of rigorous cancer treatment and Daryl could barely speak, let alone, eat. 

The ham now sits in our fridge, and like me, is possibly confused by its presence post-Christmas. I did suggest baking it on Christmas eve, but that suggestion was shut down quite stoically. Just as well, as I was exhausted, and the idea of cooking was truly unappealing.

 

Now, Christmas and Boxing Day have been and gone, in what feels like a haze of hopefulness and trepidation. 

I worried Daryl wouldn’t be up for the chaos of Christmas breakfast, a tradition on my side of the family that brings us all together, resulting in big personalities vying for attention, tall tales, and even bigger hugs all around a very loud dining table. 

Yet, in the early hours of the morning as we prepared to go, Daryl didn’t even whisper a complaint or suggest staying home, despite a difficult night cementing the weariness in our bones, just that bit deeper. 

I worried that our presence would dampen the spirit of the morning, I worried that Daryl would feel self-conscious, that he would feel left out, that he would be exhausted. But I needn’t have worried - despite the tears that welled when some of our clan laid eyes on him, the extra tight hugs, the careful lowering of exuberant voices - the mornings celebrations were perfect in all its imperfections. 

I shed quiet tears and ached for the loved ones who were missing from the table - loved ones taken too soon by the angels of death, others through choices made from petty grievances and stubborn pride - then I looked around and rejoiced in those present. I realised I have limited resources left in my emotional tank, so I must accept the situations as they are and make the best of each one. I recently read a small sentence with a big message, and it read, “The biggest mistake you make is to live your life like you’ll get another chance to experience all the beauty that surrounds you.” And it’s true. We have experienced so much grief and loss this year that this needs to be reinforced, repeatedly, until it is our truth.

 

Working in the retail sector I watch and read the trends around the industry and listen to the people who shop in our store. I hear their grumblings, grievances and listen to the choices many are making to enhance their lives and those around them. For our family we chose experiences as the theme for our gifting this year. This has been highlighted by Daryl’s journey which has touched us all in some way, emphasising the brevity of life and opportunity. We were doubly blessed when our children chose to gift us similarly, with an experience to enjoy down the track, when Daryl is up for a new adventure. A day we look forward to very much. 

 

The remainder of the festive days were filled with family and friends. Daryl pushed himself to participate in family traditions throughout the big day and while these choices cost him physically, rendering him unwell for the evening and into the night, I’d suggest he would repeat it again, given the same circumstances. 

 

Today, the heatwave which has taken hold in Victoria is still in full force and we have taken refuge indoors, resting in the air-conditioning and enjoying the company of visitors to our home. Even the pups have been allowed inside to get some reprieve from the sweltering conditions. It’s hard to believe we had the wood fire on two weeks ago!

 

The Christmas ham still sits staidly in our fridge, and I finally asked the question about its fate. Turns out this humble ham is Daryl’s symbol of hope and healing. It will be providing the base for a celebratory feast to say thank you, sometime in the near future; a future we cannot even envision today, but one that is building moment by moment. For now, we take inspiration from the words of our children:

 

Finding the words in times of hardship is never an easy task, as such, we search for words used before – in doing so, we found this beautiful piece that made us smile. We hope it brings you both a bit of happiness too….’Home’ – Nikki Barnes.

 

Find the people and places that make you feel home.

Find the ones who take care of your soul and make like you can be completely yourself around them.

Find the ones who light you up from the inside out and encourage you to be yourself.

Find the places where you feel at peace, the places you could spend forever exploring and wandering.

Find the places that make you want to see even more of the world and the ones that make you happy to be alive…

And whenever you find one of these people or places, hold onto them so tight.

Tell those people you love them often.

Visit those places as much as you can.

Never let go of those people or places because when you find peace and love and joy in the world, it is worth more than gold.

It is where you are meant to be.

 

We love you both endlessly.

 

Love always, The Gang xox

 

 

Until next time,

N

 

 

 

 

Christmas Wishes

For more than 50 years I have looked forward to Christmas Day and all the hope and joy it promises to deliver. 

As a parent, I worked myself into a frenzy trying to make the experience a treasure trove of memories for my children and those around us. I wanted them to have traditions - tree decorating, fruit cake, mince pies (homemade), Christmas punch, carols for 25 days straight, poorly made stockings-filled with love and undies. I wanted them to grow with the knowledge the day was more than just a present grab. I wanted them to appreciate the people in their lives, family and friends, and enjoy the gift of giving, not just receiving. I ached for them to have so much more than I did as a child. I yearned for them to experience joy, to know they were worth the effort. I dream in many small ways this was achieved, but I doubt I got it right all the time. But then, like Christmas, I am not perfect and in this imperfection, I hope they reflect on the positives, cut their mum some slack for the unnecessary stress, forgive her woeful sewing skills and grow from the experiences they have shared in their lifetimes. 

This year I am passing the festive baton onto my middle daughter, and her family, who have offered to take on the tradition of Christmas breakfast. I am delighted and saddened in the same heartbeat. I know I won't be able to roll out the festive feast in 22 days, but I wish I could do so. 

The smell of bacon cooking infused with coffee brewing, the mess of pancake batter splattering over the cooktops, muffins toasting to various degrees of crunch, the sticky fingers from cutting up fruit, and the endless cups of tea being prepared in a kitchen way too small to fit the extended family, along with the sounds of table setting and children helping, will be missing from our home and will be replaced with just us. There will be no strains of Christmas carols to make the kids groan and our annual song 'Christmas Shoes' will not be played; there won't be mounds of torn wrapping paper strewn across the floor, quickly collected by my eldest daughter, and neither of us will wear silly Santa hats. 

I expect by the time the morning of December 25 rolls around, I will be extremely grateful for the silence, to start the day slowly, to ensure Daryl can join us. I will be thankful for the opportunity to pack up the stockings and gifts and hopefully drive just a short distance away to join the chaos of our family Christmas tradition. Maybe we will wear silly hats, listen to the sounds of Christmas carols or they will be drowned out by the delightful din from excited grandchildren and grown-ups alike. Whatever the morning brings will be just right. I will, as I do every year, observe my family, through tearful eyes and a full heart, counting my blessings as they open their gifts, exchange hugs and words of appreciation. For us, it is an opportunity to bless our children and their partners (all 15 of them). But this year, no-one deserves some TLC more so, than my own husband and their father, step-father, grandfather - Daryl. 

Daryl has endured the horrors of intensive radiation and chemotherapy treatment for a cancer diagnosis that shattered our world some six months ago. This has been a period of our lives that we never anticipated, like many before us, and we have had to find our way, navigating a medical system and developing a whole new vocabulary. We have needed to live away from home to be near the hospital, away from the people in our world, away from our work, our business. We have had to adjust to a new normal even when this normal kept morphing and changing, leaving little room for complacency. We are not friends with this new normal, merely companions for the near future, until we might bid it goodbye.

In the weeks leading up to this Christmas we find ourselves re-evaluating everything we once believed, fought for, or considered relevant. In all this reflection, it is clear the priorities are not our material possessions but the people in our life, some near, some far. The ancient philosopher Epictetus wrote "The key is to keep company only with people who uplift you, whose presence calls forth your best." He is correct.  We have been unable to change the circumstances we found ourselves in, but we could and have influenced the journey. Some days have been darker than others, but today, like every day we are yet to be gifted, we are choosing to embrace the positive, accept the reality and release anything we cannot change. 

Christmas will mark the beginning of the recovery phase for Daryl, a period of healing and rest, of waiting for the next instalment. We are blessed to be able to wait back at the farm surrounded by the familiar smells and sounds of home. It is nice to be in our environment and to be greeted by our four-legged freeloaders and our cackle of hens. To walk into our business, breathe in the scent and be soothed by the soulfulness of stories is like a dose of Daryl's magic pain potions, - it brings calmness and relief. Now the festive decorations are starting to go up, we are being modest this year, and for once I am ok with the theory of less-is-best.

Christmas it is not being cancelled at Rivergum the year, although it was considered, it will be merely changed. Like us, it will evolve into another form, fitting into the heart of our family, as it gathers together for the first time, in so long. 

However you spend this festive season and the days leading up to your celebrations I wish you many things, but most importantly I with you good health, good people and good luck (luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity - Seneca). 

Don't wait to do things you wish to do - do them now. There's never enough time, never enough money, nothing is perfect - that's ok. Do them anyway.

Until next time,

N 

Feels Like Home

The soulful tunes of Norah Jones’s “Feels Like Home” is playing softly in the background on the antiquated CD player, a freshly poured glass of gin and tonic is pleasant company along with sounds of the ocean conversing with the sands situated just beyond the caravan park and with my feet up, seated outside the van, I am alone but certainly not lonely.

The gin is a Christmas gift from Daryl, purchased and then imported from England, it is a subtle reminder of good times in my recent memory. The beach, certainly the sounds emanating from its shore, fills me with a sense of belonging, peace and permission to indulge in the world of words whether it be through reading a novel or three or tapping away at my laptop as I am doing now. A perfect way to begin a brief sojourn from the real world. I am most fortunate and a little selfish, to be here. Daryl has just driven back towards the farm, with work commitments making his stay brief but I hope he would say enjoyable. Just the two of us, kids and friends were banned and we took 24 hours out of ordinary life. Later my longtime friend and her two young teens will arrive, tomorrow, my twin sons and daughter, with little people in tow, will join me and the van will be full of stuff and noise once again. I am looking forward to it all, but for now, I will relish in the serenity.  

Hot on the tail of a busy Christmas day, last night we strolled on the beach, watched the sunset and spoke with family from England, whose day was just about to begin. It is so easy now to keep in touch and we were thrilled they were home, albeit rugged up to fend away the winter chill, while we were in shorts and thongs. Our own day was filled with family festivities beginning on Christmas eve as we prepared our contributions to the day in the form of pavlova’s (Daryl's specialty) and roast turkey (my specialty), all the while entertaining two granddaughters so their parents could prepare and assemble gifts too big to fit under the Christmas tree. Celebrations began in the early afternoon, with a visit across the road where the cats will be holidaying for a week, their placement was the perfect opportunity to share a drink and gifts with our neighbour and some of her family, visiting from interstate. The little girls were very happy to play with two other girls and made fast friends. The cats settled, although I doubt they will thank me for their temporary relocation. The catch ups continued to Churchill and ended at the traditional Christmas eve dinner with most of Daryl’s family. Loads of food, kids running amuck is usual and a visit from Santa on his firetruck was a treat for all the little ones. The biggest treat however, by far, was the surprise appearance of my son Damien, who showed up from sunny Queensland, rendering me speechless for a few moments. With my eyes stinging with tears, I thought my legs would give way as I went to him, hugging him so tightly, we could barely breathe. I miss him so much and his unexpected visit seems to have been a carefully guarded secret within my own clan. As I prepared for Christmas morning, knowing all my babies would all be present was a priceless gift, and I couldn’t help smiling as we stuffed stockings well past midnight in readiness for an early start. Despite the fact my youngest baby is 19, they still get a childish buzz out of their Santa stockings, which is now carried onto their own children (without relinquishing their own!). Continuing with family traditions Christmas breakfast was a feast shared with special friends, who

we count as family, a visit from twin Santa’s and the exchanging of many gifts and letters. It is my choice to write each of the grandchildren a letter each Christmas, although they cannot yet read, I hope this will be something they will cherish many years down the track. The reality of feeding 30 odd people is never easy but I have to say my son and his partner did a sterling job getting it all together, and with a little help from the rest of us, we enjoyed copious amounts of fare and a drop of celebratory sparkles and ale. Onward, we arrived at the next feast sharing this part with Daryl’s son’s in-laws. A quieter affair it was just lovely, especially with the addition of their first child, who at only six weeks of age, was oblivious to all the fuss around him.

It was then time to pack and make our way to the van. Our place of rest and relaxation (interspersed with a few housekeeping jobs here and there). It had taken some convincing to get Daryl here for only one night, but he did and it was a good idea.

Sitting here now, I am part way through my drink, the air is slightly cooler and the families around me are filling the air with the fragrance of camp food, namely sausages on the barbeque. The magpies are attentive in the hope of an easy feed, while I can hear the hammering of pegs into the ground where the newest arrivals set up their campsites. Despite the third year of drought, the parks ground is relatively easy to hammer into, and we also spent a short time getting our outdoor flooring and gazebo in place earlier today, providing us shelter but also privacy and protection from the westerly winds, known to rise up and batter sites at its will.

I will see the New Year in from here and will be joined by Daryl, some friends and anyone else who chooses to come up. It will be a causal event, with a roast on the Weber, drinks and a game or two of cards. I expect we will see the New Year fireworks from the shores of Red Bluff and will ignore the crowds who will gather at Lakes Entrance. This is my kind of party, with as little fuss and fanfare as possible in the company of good friends and family. If you’re wondering who looks after the farm while we do all this relaxing, despair not, the animals are well tendered to with our trusty farm-sitter employed to watch over the ever-browning grass, the flock of hens, their protector alpacas and our small herd of cows with their young calves, in our absence. At last count we had 15 young babies running around, kicking up a lot of dust, so before we left the morass was opened and they all hoofed it down the paddock to feed on the green grass amongst the gum trees that will provide them with ample shelter in the upcoming days of heat. Temperatures forecast in the low 40’s are becoming more common and with bushfires already burning across thousands of hectares of Australia we are always mindful of the risks during the summer season. This year our fire season started early, interstate, with a ferocity we have not experienced for some years. For now, we are fine but vigilant.

The opportunity to take a break also gives a chance to put the paint brushes down and leave the chaos of house renovations for a time. They are coming along with the new kitchen now functional and I must say, looking fabulous, with our red gum bench tops and new oven. The laundry has also had a makeover and is not only more pleasing to the eye, it is far more functional. Never a fan of painting, I am enduring the process and grateful for every moment of assistance from family and friends. The process, like many major life events, has been the catalyst of a few flared tempers and fiery exchanges between Daryl and I in recent weeks fuelled by the end of the year fatigue and my resignation from my job, I am pleased to say we have made it through relatively unscathed. Leaving my former employer of three years was another major decision but I have no doubt it was a good choice given the instant relief of tension from my body and mind once I said a final farewell. Blessed to have secured another job I am excited about a different future.

With a new decade knocking on our figurative door, I am hopeful 2020 will bring opportunities for change, challenge and contemplation. I turn 50 next year and while this is not a significant event for some – it is for me.

Whatever 2020 means for you I hope it is just perfect.

Until next time,

N