So I've been going through some of the boxes that are still packed . The ones that didn't hold the kitchen equipment and bedding , that were not critical to my survival when the container first arrived with my worldly possessions from South Africa.
And I found some old school memorabilia, certificates of achievement , you know, those all important spelling things , and full attendance for 100 years straight , all those typical nerdy things that 10 year olds are so proud of , but pretend doesn't matter to them.
I stumbled onto some of my old poems. I was quite the little pen-woman in my primary school days. Particularly after my grandparents died. I suppose it was my way of dealing with something big and shocking that I really couldn't process any other way.
It was something that shook up my whole family. My grandparents, my Aunt , and 2 cousins , all died in the same car accident , when a drunk driver , on the wrong side of the highway ( freeway if you're Australian) hit them head on , at a hell of a speed.
We were told they all died instantly , but that wasn't really true , because we did find out from some witness statements that they heard a baby crying for a good 20 minutes after the accident happened. I suppose the police and investigators wanted us to be spared the knowledge that anyone in that car may have suffered in the slightest.
How do you deal with something like that at 12 years old? When your mother , the person who is your rock and foundation has been shaken to her core , and can barely stand up in the morning she is so grief-stricken at losing her parents and sister all in one go .
Well , according my 12 year old self , you pray every day , you ask God , and Jesus to heal everyone . And then you wait , and watch, and pray some more. And when that doesn't work , which it won't of course , because healing comes from dealing with issues , not from a mythical man in the sky and his benevolent half-son. You ask your scripture teacher if you're praying wrong. And when that doesn't work . Then you start writing, and at first you pour out your anger. Anger at God for not healing people. Anger at yourself for believing in fairy stories . Anger back at God for letting them die. Anger at anyone who drinks alcohol. ( that last one took me a long time to get over, and while my friends were happily experimenting with a tot here and there at 16 and 17 , I was firmly in the teetotaller camp until way past my 18th birthday) . And then you move onto sadness and grief, and that's where the following piece of writing comes from.
I found it today with all the certificates and papers from school that my mother had kept. And it makes miss my family , but more than that - it makes me grateful for the people in my life who have brought me wholeness and comfort. Peace , acceptance , and a strong shoulder to cry on.
And I found some old school memorabilia, certificates of achievement , you know, those all important spelling things , and full attendance for 100 years straight , all those typical nerdy things that 10 year olds are so proud of , but pretend doesn't matter to them.
I stumbled onto some of my old poems. I was quite the little pen-woman in my primary school days. Particularly after my grandparents died. I suppose it was my way of dealing with something big and shocking that I really couldn't process any other way.
It was something that shook up my whole family. My grandparents, my Aunt , and 2 cousins , all died in the same car accident , when a drunk driver , on the wrong side of the highway ( freeway if you're Australian) hit them head on , at a hell of a speed.
We were told they all died instantly , but that wasn't really true , because we did find out from some witness statements that they heard a baby crying for a good 20 minutes after the accident happened. I suppose the police and investigators wanted us to be spared the knowledge that anyone in that car may have suffered in the slightest.
How do you deal with something like that at 12 years old? When your mother , the person who is your rock and foundation has been shaken to her core , and can barely stand up in the morning she is so grief-stricken at losing her parents and sister all in one go .
Well , according my 12 year old self , you pray every day , you ask God , and Jesus to heal everyone . And then you wait , and watch, and pray some more. And when that doesn't work , which it won't of course , because healing comes from dealing with issues , not from a mythical man in the sky and his benevolent half-son. You ask your scripture teacher if you're praying wrong. And when that doesn't work . Then you start writing, and at first you pour out your anger. Anger at God for not healing people. Anger at yourself for believing in fairy stories . Anger back at God for letting them die. Anger at anyone who drinks alcohol. ( that last one took me a long time to get over, and while my friends were happily experimenting with a tot here and there at 16 and 17 , I was firmly in the teetotaller camp until way past my 18th birthday) . And then you move onto sadness and grief, and that's where the following piece of writing comes from.
I found it today with all the certificates and papers from school that my mother had kept. And it makes miss my family , but more than that - it makes me grateful for the people in my life who have brought me wholeness and comfort. Peace , acceptance , and a strong shoulder to cry on.
Winter Without Them
The Summer came and they went.
Now summers gone and autumn's left.
Winter now comes creeping in
to freeze our fingers, make us spin.
Winter without them is colder - yes,
more sneezes, more coughs , no-one
to cuddle , comfort and bless.
Yes- Winter is colder without them
but when summer comes
our thoughts will wander
bringing them back to our minds , our hearts.
So , winter has come to make us forget
but summer will come, and we shall remember them yet.
losing a loved one can be really drastic, it literally shakes one if it is all of a sudden. Lots of love to you and your mom, and prayers for the deceased. Memories should always be cherished.
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