Somedays it is the smallest things

by frogpondsrock on January 11, 2011

in cancer,Grief,real life

Yesterday morning was cold, so cold in fact that I decided to light the fire. The newpaper that I grabbed to start the fire was dated  June 10th 2009.

I looked at the date and it took me a second or two while I stared at the date to realize that Mum was still alive on the 10th of June 2009.

I sat in front of the fire and skimmed through the newspaper, reading articles that Mum and I had shared. Old news of the world that gave me a tenuous link back to my mother.

I have some of Mums perfume here and I sprayed some scent on the back of my hand trying to capture the smell of my mother  it was the wrong perfume though and instead of comforting me it gave me a headache.

Later on in the morning I was clearing a space in my super cluttered bedroom so that the electrician can change the meter box on Friday, ready for the power hook up to my studio.I found a small bag containing Mum’s wig, The wig in waiting we called it The smell of my mother was strong in this bag and after burying my face in the rough hair of the wig for a few moments I got on with the job at hand. As I was moving boxes of Mum’s things out of the way and idly wondering how long her stuff would remain in boxes, wondering whether I could get the Spouse to make a storage space in the roof of my studio. The thought of Mum’s things sitting in boxes covered in dust brought me undone again.

This morning as I am sitting here writing about my small woes the news of the Queensland floods just keeps on getting grimmer and grimmer.

8 dead 72 missing in Toowoomba

So my thoughts are with everyone in the midst of this National disaster and if anyone wants to help they can go here to find the relevant authorities.

{ 10 comments }

Jayne January 11, 2011 at 9:33 am

It has been unfathomable that an inland tsunami like that could appear so suddenly :(

Your woes are not small, each person’s grief is a private, personal thing that cannot be measured or compared to that of another person.

frogpondsrock January 11, 2011 at 9:36 am

I just watched some You tube footage via the abc of the flash flooding in Toowoomba and the first clip made me icy with horror.

sharon January 11, 2011 at 10:39 am

The flooding is so awful and the Toowoomba disaster is almost beyond belief. Seemed surreal when we watched the news last night on the TV, a third world event rather than something that would happen here. Will be scraping up some $$ for the appeal that’s for sure.

Here in the West there is a big fire raging approx 200km north of us that is destroying properties, animals and livelihoods which some despicable moron started deliberately. Still mostly out of control with strong hot and dry easterly winds fanning the flames. Words fail me when I think of these idiot arsonists and my punishment choices for them are quite draconian!

tiff January 11, 2011 at 6:25 pm

grief doesn’t stop for anything, my friend. Even the big stuff, the world stuff. Hugs, what you are going through is big too. I know though. I feel the same. it seems almost wrong to write about anything at all.

Barbara January 11, 2011 at 9:49 pm

I don’t think there’s anything I can say that won’t sound trite so I’m just here, thinking of you and all the people that are going through hard times now.

Beet January 11, 2011 at 10:13 pm

It’s not small stuff hon, it’s your stuff and it’s no less or more than anyone else’s stuff. hugs.

That youtube footage was horrifying wasn’t it!

plumtree January 12, 2011 at 4:35 am

Hugs, and snap to Jayne and Tiff. ((( )))

river January 12, 2011 at 2:55 pm

It is sometimes the smallest things isn’t it?
I find I’m not comfortable wearing white t-shirts as much as I used to, because all of my dad’s t-shirts were always white. He’s been gone 11 years this coming Saturday. Everytime I see a white t-shirt on a short tanned man with dark hair, I “see” my dad.

Watershedd January 12, 2011 at 11:02 pm

My grandfather died when I was small. I’ve blogged about it a couple of time. I remember a few things, items, feelings, events. A vivid memory is of a small red leather box with gilt markings that sat on the coffee table, holding my grandfather’s tobacco. A few years ago, my father gave it to me. It was one of the very few things he had of his father and he wanted me to have it. It’s worth nothing, but after 35 years, it still smells of his tobacco. It takes me back to sitting on his lap, reading a specific book and the innocence before I realised what death was.

Big hugs to you. go bury your head in your mother’s wig and draw her scent in. Sometimes, we need those things. X

Madmother January 19, 2011 at 3:39 pm

Oh, I so understand this one. It is that moment of forgetting they are gone and then the feeling of free-fall into pain once more. I lost my mum, Wise Woman, on October 21st last year. I miss her with every fibre of my being.

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