Love

I miss you …

/ Denise / 2 Comments

Not in a sad way. I don’t cry big tears. And I don’t wear a long face because you are gone. What I miss is not sharing what my life has become with you.

Daddy, I know you would have probably asked me a million questions as to why I wouldn’t stick it out just another 5 years before I retired. And after many discussions, you’d stare off into the view quietly letting me know that even though you may not fully agree, you’d be right there supporting me all the way, as you always did. But believe me you’d be so happy for me now seeing the genuine smile on my face as I enjoy the simple things in life. Sunsets, walking on the beach any day of the week, sibling hotdog nights, gardening, traveling, sewing. Spending quality time with those who matter the most to me. My freedom to do what most pleases me.

Mum, you would be right there smiling at my side sharing special moments in my ‘cosy corner’ as we pull out pieces of fabric to make quilts together. Choosing the colours, laughing at the small pieces of fabric you saved years before, the ones I begged you to throw away, happy now to include them in a one-of-a-kind treasure for the grandkids. You would encourage me as I make my mistakes and smile a proud smile as I showed it off to you.

The boys have grown and flown the nest. Just like you warned. I know you’d be as proud of them as I am. They love like you taught us. And have made strong bonds like you showed us. They are loyal, strong and determined. And just like you had hoped, they’ve brought a special joy to my life.

The grandkids. Oh, the grandkids. You would love them, and they would love you right back. Dad with your always ready for a hug arms. Mum always ready to serve them their favourite treat. With your smile so gentle and your laugh so contagious. And of course, Dad, they all look just like you. The boys would be jumping all over the place as boys do, and the girls would have you wrapped ever so tightly around your little finger. And yes, as an answer to your prayers, I have been blessed with not one but two granddaughters.

The one thing that would make your face wince though is that they live so far away. But we’d Facetime them on your visits home and you would laugh and chat with them, always in awe at what technology could do.

But most of all I miss seeing you, kissing you hello and hugging you goodbye. Knowing that I could come visit you any day, any time.

On our way again…

/ Denise / 3 Comments

How many times must I make this journey to see my grandkids before I lose the excitement of getting there. Many many many more I can only imagine, for each visit brings its own thrills.

This time like 4 other times before, we are meeting one of our grandkids for the first time.

I remember Solomon our first, meeting him at 3 months old. And your first in everything always brings with it varying emotions. From excitement to anxiety. From ‘I can’t wait to get there’ to ‘Wait, is this really happening?’ From ‘Do I remember what to do with a baby’ to ‘Oh my word, I can’t wait to snuggle his baby toes’. And always to moments where your heart is so full it empties through your eyes.

But I’ve realised that those emotions never disappear. I remember Wyatt our second. Meeting him when he was already one year and a bit, after the drama that was Covid. There was a longing, a feeling of wanting to catch up on everything I had missed for the past year. FaceTime allowed us to get to know each other but only just barely. The real deal was about to happen. I could only imagine that I had been but a funny face on the other side of the screen for his entire life. Was I just a movie for him? Did he think I was a real person? What would his reaction be when he met me face to face and realised that that funny face was actually his Grandma? A permanent fixture in his life. A bit of dread mixed with anxiety but always my heart spilling out from my eyes.

I met Julius our third at the same time as Wyatt, just two months old. He was oblivious to anything around him. Just happy to have these big humans hugging and loving him day after day. He still loves his cuddles and at two months old he was an angel – ‘was’ being the operative word.

I never wanted to leave. My three grandsons were growing up and fast. I felt I had missed out on so much that it would be impossible to make up for lost time. Whatever moments I could enjoy, I did, without restrain. Whatever milestones I could witness, I committed to memory. Whatever cuddles I could get, I savoured. Leaving was the hardest part and still is. My heart would swell and my eyes would overflow. There would be moments of no return when I felt torn and broken into pieces.

These three grandchildren became the magnet that would draw me back to Australia time and time again. I was growing accustomed. I was in my comfort zone with these boys. They had also come to visit and knew that their Grandma also had a home of her own. She had dogs and fish and lived close to the sea. They had lots of cousins where Grandma lived. There were toys and books and a hill they could roll down in glee.

And so, I thought that the visits would become just a normal way of life. I could do this without the ‘what ifs’ going through my mind. Maybe the anxiety would go away and just be replaced with excitement. Maybe my heart wouldn’t swell so much and the tears would dry up.

But nope! As fate would have it, a Princess was born and everything turned topsy turvy. A little girl. How would I even know what to do with a girl? Boys were rough and tumble. I could do that. They loved being outdoors riding their bikes and digging in the sand at the beach. We mastered that. But a Princess? The excitement once again was mixed with anxiety. And the thought of meeting the first girl filled my heart to overflowing. I could hardly wait. And the journey took forever.

I met my Thea Molly Rose at 4 months old. Already her personality was shining through, and she melted my heart with her big smile and ready to come to Grandma with open ar. We bonded easily. She allowed me into her Princess world and quickly wedged her way into my heart making it ever so difficult to leave.

And now Princess no. 2 has arrived. She’ll be just 10 days old when I meet her. And I will leave her when she’s not even two months old. Already my heart is growing making room for another lifelong love. And once again the excitement is mixed with anxiety. The ‘she’s so small and will not even remember me’ haunts my every thought.

I am already preparing myself for the inevitable. A swollen heart, swollen eyes, pieces of my heart left across the globe and a longing to make the journey once again. For I already have another little love to meet before the end of the year.

I know now though, that these emotions are never far away and will resurface as soon as my journey begins, whether I like it or not.

The best time ever…

/ Denise / Leave a comment

“Let’s go firefighters” and off we went to the movies.

The excitement was building (for us anyway) ever since we discovered that Moana 2 would be showing before we left Aussie. And as soon as we told the boys we were going, we were all pumped.

“Julsie, we’re not going to school today. We are going to see Moana with Grandma and Pappi and Wyatt”. Faces lit with excitement and good behaviour was the order of the day.

The car ride was a bit long I must admit, but the songs and storytelling certainly helped in passing the time successfully. When we arrived at Wyatt’s school, the excitement intensified. Jumping and running to meet us, joyfully waving goodbye to his teachers and friends, Wyatt literally launched into the car joining his two cousins, sharing snacks, chatting about everything under this sun, singing the Moana songs like true Moana-ites.

We were finally on our way.

As we reached the Mall they were let loose and ran ahead like crazy picnies, stopping only to know which way to turn. The giggles, the screeches, the laughter, filled out hearts. We purchased 5 tickets and in reality only used 3 seats as one little firefighter needed some cuddles during the ‘scary’ parts, much to my delight, and the other two had their movie comments to discuss throughout.

“I need cuddles, Grandma.”

They’ve grown so much since we last saw them just a mere 3 months ago.

Solomon, now 5 is maturing daily. Loves story telling. Is knowledgeable on any animal topic. Is engrossed with Lego and never forgets anything as “it is right here in my memory” Grandma. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is a loving big brother, except when his rules are not followed.

Wyatt is 4 and his big brother instincts are kicking in slowly but surely. Loves riding to and from school with his Pappi, gets a kick out of playing football on an afternoon and is super excited to join his new friends at Ju Jitsu. His hugs are heartfelt and when his little face lights up you can’t help but fall in love all over again.

Little Julius just turned 3 and does not stop talking, or singing for that matter. He too loves story telling and knows how to push his big brother’s buttons pulling the “I’m the little one card” when he needs it. His hugs are to die for and his smile melts your heart.

Thea Molly Rose. A 1 year old toddler going on 13. Aware of everything around her and super sensitive to her brother’s needs, bringing him his water bottle when she sees him fussing. She’s not a push over by any means and has mastered the art of wrapping you around her little finger. Julius is wary of her as she makes her needs/demands known in no uncertain terms. I imagine she will be a force to be reckoned with.

It is heart warming to see them together. Excited and happy to be with each other as often as they can. Riding, swimming, playing, just being kids who are cousins.

It’s been a world wind of a visit. A mere 5 weeks together. And I’ll do it over and over again, as long as my body and mind can handle it.

A hesitant pilgrim in Medugorje…

/ Denise / Leave a comment

Three years into my retirement I felt the need to explore my spirituality. I had never really been interested in pilgrimages as I feared the intensity of it – the non-stop prayers, attending multiple masses daily, being lectured to on religion, visiting church after church. Or so I envisioned it to be. I also feared not being touched. Touched in the sense of not receiving the graces so many had received on their own journey.

But more and more, my friends were talking about their personal experiences, always with wonder and excitement. I began to listen. To put my hesitation aside and open my heart and mind to the possibilities. During my many previous travels I had visited Fatima in Portugal in my early twenties but purely as a place to see with no real interest in the appearance of the Blessed Virgin Mary to the young children. There was once a pilgrimage movement to Betania in Venezuela but I was never so inclined to visit. I guess I just wasn’t ready.

Medugorje however, had always intrigued me. A similar story of the Blessed Virgin Mary appearing to the little children but somehow it felt different. Maybe because it was happening in my lifetime, but I wanted to give it a try. One year in the making, with many questions asked of those who had already visited, books being read and my many must-haves and mustn’t-haves in place, I set out with close friends. Clearing my mind, I went with no expectations whatsoever.

We had joined a tour group which fit my requirements. Engaging all the right touch points, sharing enough information to pique your interest, offering enough free time to wonder on my own, affording the opportunity at all times to be as engaged as you decided to be. Initially I took on the role of spectator. Watching, listening, going through the motions. Opening my mind and my heart to whatever.

Surprisingly it didn’t take long to get into the groove and to move from spectator to full-fledged pilgrim. I soon began to feel happy, honoured, excited, to be referred to as a pilgrim. To experience what it truly meant to witness and be part of a community with such a strong faith. Where, in Medugorje, their daily life reflects their belief in a God who loves them. A life steeped in the tradition of worshipping the Risen Lord and paying homage to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Where daily mass is a lifestyle. Where honouring the apparitions by re-living the experience of the young children many years ago is part and parcel of who you are. Where doctrines of prayer are passed down from generation to generation without resistance. A small community living their faith. A small community with no crime.

We visited the Blue Cross where the Virgin Mary warned the children of the impending danger of the ‘blue angels’ (police) who were looking for them. Climbed Apparition Hill where the Blessed Virgin Mary first appeared to the children, stopping at the Wooden Cross erected in honour of the Virgin’s message of peace to Mirjana –

“Peace peace peace only peace. There must be peace. Between God and man and Between man and mankind.”

We set off early one morning to climb Cross Mountain stopping to pray the Stations of the Cross along the way. While it was physically challenging, it has left a lasting impression in my heart.

And even though I was initially hesitant to participate in daily mass and prayer, it was a natural progression to be a willing participant. Our Sunday mass was officiated by our tour group’s priest in an outdoor setting which exuded peace – a cosy forum accessed by a stoney path surrounded by trees giving it an ethereal atmosphere.

Indeed Medugorje has been aptly described as a “very special place where heaven touched the earth”.

I prayed for my children and grandchildren, for my family and friends. I offered up petitions for those in need. I prayed for myself. That I can be so filled with awe for the Risen Lord and love of the Blessed Virgin Mary, that I may reflect, if only faintly, their love. Be responsible if only in my own little bubble for the transference of peace. To try as I might, understand how to live a life that is pleasing to God.

As Mother Elvira, founder of the Cenacolo Community in 1983 to provide hope and healing to those suffering from addiction said –

“We are not born just to finish our lives here, we are born to walk towards Heaven.”

Thea Molly Rose turns one today…

/ Denise / 6 Comments

I am a mother of 3 boys. I’ve lived the life of lots of talk, lots of action, constant movement until bedtime for many many years. Mine were the only female hormones jumping up and down in my house. Even my pets were all male. Testosterone abounded. The camping, the fishing, rough and tumble games, hiking, outdoor sporting activities. You name it. We did it. All with the boys in mind.

Then one day I took the off chance to see if I could pass at least one of my hobbies onto my boys. I called them all together, turned on my sewing machine, and started to show them the joy of putting fabric together to create something new and useful. At first, they seemed interested. And I was pleased. Such sweet boys humouring their mother. But as I went on, I noticed through the corner of my eye that my audience was dwindling slowly but surely. Until my youngest could take it no more and sneaked away to giggle somewhere with his brothers. I must admit I was a bit hurt, but I smiled. At least I tried. Fortunately though, my love of the garden was not lost on them. And today at least two take pride in growing their own food and creating a warm and welcoming outdoor environment for their families.

And the boys kept coming. One, two and then three grandsons were born. I felt at home. I knew what to do. I knew what they’d love. I knew how to be rough and tumble. I knew how to play their games. I knew how to love them. I was in my comfort zone.

Then little Thea Molly Rose graces our presence. For a long time, I had wished for a little girl to love. But being a tomboy myself growing up, I could never truly imagine what it would be like to have a little girl around. I never played with dolls, I never liked wearing dresses, I loved playing cricket with my elder brother, and I spent a lot of time climbing trees with our neighbours. So, Thea has literally pulled me out of my comfort zone, for I imagine that she will like all those things that I have no experience with. But maybe, just maybe, I can teach her to sew.

Thea turns one today. I met her when she was just 5 months old and left her two months later. We were just getting to know each other. I loved having her fall asleep in my arms. I loved taking her for a walk, and I loved our morning cuddles, as short lived as they were. I’ll meet her again in one month’s time which may very well seem like a first meeting all over again. For she will be a toddler. With her own mind. And her developing personality. She may no longer fall asleep in my arms, but I am hoping for some morning cuddles and most certainly looking forward to her teaching me how to love a little girl.

What 70 really looks like…

/ Denise / 2 Comments

I must have been 8 or 9 years old when I discovered that my mother had just turned 40. I stared at her cutting her birthday cake with my father and I wanted to burst into tears. She was smiling and happy. We were all happy. But to me 40 was such a big number. A number that felt ions away and in my childlike mind, my mother didn’t have much longer to live. And so, 40 became for me the big bad age.

When I turned 40, in the peak of health, with a young family like my mother had been some years prior, I felt dread. For no other reason than what my mind had recorded so long ago. I didn’t want to receive any birthday greetings so I escaped with my small family where no-one could reach me, just for the day. Since then, though, I’ve realised that age is just a number. Your health, your happiness, your family are a few of the most important things in life. And now that I am in my sixties and the real big numbers are staring me in the face, I dig deep into my memories for what those ages could possibly mean.

My mother breathed her last breath just a few months past the age of 70. She had been ailing since her early sixties. My father heroically took on the role of caregiver like no other. And even with her family rallying around her, her quality of life began to fade towards her late sixties. She had lost her speech. I can only imagine that she felt trapped no longer being able to communicate as she had wished. And yet, even with this memory, the dread that I felt at 40 no longer haunts me. It has now been replaced with a sense of newness of life. For in my own experience, there’s still time for adventure. There’s still time to learn new things. There’s still time to love – your family, your friends, yourself.

A few weeks ago, my sister turned 70. We had been joking about it for some time, reminiscing on our experiences and wondering what this new stage would bring for her. The day after we celebrated her, she messaged me – it’s not so bad after all – she said. I smiled a big smile. For my sister has now become my new beacon of what 70 looks like.

And what does 70 look like? It is at peace with oneself. It is accepting of what life has to offer. It is grateful for every moment, every day. It is quirky and has a sense of humour. Ready to go new places and experience new things. Its arms are wide open welcoming love and adventure. It is wise. It is kind. It is generous of heart and spirit.

Thanks to my sister, I look forward to 70, hoping that I too will find that it’s not so bad after all.

Leaving is the hardest part…

/ Denise / 9 Comments
My superheroes

Just a little over a year ago I left my grandchildren with the heaviest of hearts. There was just not enough time to share my love with them. And now one year later, the departure is no less heart wrenching.

I can’t complain though. 2022 was amazing. With two visits to Aussie and a Christmas season shared with all at home. I will never complain. But leaving is always the hardest part. The cuddles become sweeter. The laughs become louder. The moments more precious.

Solomon is now 4. He is, for all intents and purposes, a big boy. He is a loving big brother. His cousins adore him. He is gentle and kind, most of the time. Conversations vary from little boy to almost teenager. But there is always a conversation and he more often than not starts with – “Grandma, did you know….?” sharing his 4-year old wisdom whenever he can. His obsession with Super heroes is beyond. “You want to come visit my superhero house Grandma?” Of course I answered. “But just know Grandma that it always snows on Fridays.” “Well I’ll have to bring my warm jacket.” I reply. “Not to worry Grandma,” he consoles. “I have warm clothes for 80-year olds……” “What about 40-year olds,” I counter. “Yes Grandma all ages. Not to worry.” I frown. 80 year olds? Well really.

Solomon – loving big brother and cousin

Wyatt is 3. Learning to be a big brother. Always busy and still can’t keep still for long. Doesn’t know how to walk from A to B. Must run. Easily distracted unless it involves cars, planes or trains – a worrisome characteristic when learning to ride his bike, looking all over the place except ahead of him. Loves to help in the garden except when he stumbles upon his water gun and must squirt everything in sight. Loves the ocean as he calls it, running into the waves and toppling over, bubbling up in peals of laughter. Not good for grandparents. Thankfully he knows how to swim. His cuddles, when he decides to share them, warm your heart. And you don’t want to let go.

Wyatt – always on the move

Julius is 2 going on 12. Talks non-stop. Not needing any response really. Full sentences with an accent that takes some time getting accustomed to. “Where dis come from?” is his favourite question with a hint of Trini lingo. “Shops!” is the go-to answer. And of course, the age-old question of ‘Why?’. He is learning to love the water, but it can’t be too cold. “I want to cuddle you” jerks at your heart but you soon learn that it usually gets him off the ground and from A to B very easily. But you don’t care. A cuddle is a cuddle. He has a mischievous streak. A smile that melts ice. Determined with no fear.

Julius – thinks he is a big boy always with a story to tell

Then there is our Thea Molly Rose – almost 7 months. Our newest angel. Our first granddaughter and the first girl in the family. She has captured our hearts with her open smile, quiet nature (for now) and her delicious thunder thighs. She is quietened by Solomon and excited by her brother, Wyatt who makes her laugh at the slightest action. She loves hugs and kisses, probably because she can’t yet dodge them on her own. And I have this feeling that she will rule her brother and cousins with the wave of a finger. Time will tell.

Thea – our newest angel

Their laughter. Their stories. Their different personalities keep you on your toes. Your heart swells with each look, each smile, each cuddle, each small hand slipped into yours. Each time you hear them utter the word, ‘Grandma’. And you can’t tear yourself away. But you must.

Until next time my angels.

Grandma loves you to the planets and back, over and over and over again.

They may hold my hand for a little while, but they will forever hold my heart.

Happy New Year

/ Denise / 1 Comment
May your life be filled with love

It’s been a while since I’ve made any New Year resolutions. Primarily because I always seem to loose the moment the New Year begins. I forget. I change my mind. I simply can’t keep it up. Whatever it may have been. My resolutions became something I thought I wanted to do and never did. And as such I spent the year kicking myself for not being able to achieve what I thought were non-complex goals.

In 2023 however I made a simple commitment. In April. One that I felt I could keep. One that resonated with who I was and who I wanted to be. I committed to being true to myself.

Some may disagree and I would sincerely appreciate the feedback whether or not I have succeeded. But at that moment in my life I decided point blank that I was working too hard to please everyone else. I had lost who I was.

I had a lingering memory of this fun-loving teenager and I wanted to be her once again. She loved life. She laughed a lot. She feared nothing. She could do anything she set her mind to. And she revelled in the security of the love of family.

So what had changed. I had a life to love. My sense of humour still prevailed. There was nothing to stop me from doing what I wanted to do. And Lord knows my family have never left my side. But I had lost my way. I let myself be swayed by the expectations of a society that I didn’t really want to be a part of. A society that wanted me to conform to their norms. To look like them. To be like them. And I was finding it hard to keep up for my aspirations no longer conformed. I no longer wanted to be like them. I was not one of them. And never would be.

With that revelation, I forgave myself all wrongdoings and moved on. Just like that. Almost like an epiphany. And just like that she returned. Slowly. One step at a time. One sweet laugh at a time. One small accomplishment at a time.

She was no longer a teenager. Lord knows she doesn’t look like one. But her heart and soul feel the energy and passion of a teenager. Her years though have taught her when to say ‘enough’ and move on. How to love with all your heart and be loved. How to be true to yourself.

The journey continues. My commitment remains strong. And I look forward to new growth, new love, new beginnings.

Happy New Year to everyone. May you find your true self. May you live your true life. May you be uplifted by the love of your family and friends.

For Roses …

/ Denise / 7 Comments

My mother-in-law

This is a brief simple recap of the relationship I shared with my mother-in-law who recently passed away. It is not meant to recount her many idiosyncrasies. It is not meant to expound her many wonderful and sometimes crazy traits nor remember her many quips which most find so endearing.

It is simply sharing another side of Roses that only a few chosen ones have been fortunate enough to experience. The in-law side.

My first introduction to Roses was facing her straight on from the back, her rear end pointed to the heavens as she doubled over on the floor in a desperate effort to relieve some ‘gas’. It was not a pretty sight. There are some things in life that you just can’t un-see. I stood still and remained silent. I wanted to run, but Roger my now husband, was holding my hand very tightly in a desperate effort to keep me there. She eventually jumped up, laughed her infectious ‘ha ha’ laugh, her blue eyes twinkling as they always did, and we moved on as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

And therein began a very open, no frills, no fuss, nothing to hide, take it or leave it type of relationship, with the woman who was to make a huge impression on my life and the life of my three sons.

Mothers-in-law have always had a bad rap, especially if you marry the first-born male. They are interfering, pushy, want to tell you how to take care of their ‘baby’, treat you as if you know nothing, and generally make your life a living hell. Or so I was warned. But he was so cute, I took my chances and waited, ready and armed for battle.

Well that battle never happened. Instead I was faced with a mother-in-law and father-in-law mind you, who were both so happy that I relieved them of their son, that I sometimes felt that I could do no wrong. On our 10th wedding anniversary Roses with her very mischievous sense of humor, presented me with a medal, laughing her ‘ha ha’ laugh, twinkling her blue eyes.

She never interfered, well not that I noticed anyway. She was always ready with advice when asked, generous of her time and love, and knew exactly when to appear, like magic, to show her support in whatever way needed. My boys loved her. Alexander, my second in particular, as he was the one who spent a few years at home before moving on his own, loved to visit his grandmother. She made him feel at home. They shared their stories and more often than not a drink or two. He was always welcome.

Each of my boys felt special. As I am sure all of her grandchildren did.

I learnt how to be a good mother-in-law from Roses. Well, the truth is that I learnt what a good mother-in-law looks like anyway. She made it seem so easy but in essence it’s a hard act to follow.

At her last moments, I thanked her for putting up with me. For never making me feel inadequate. For always making me feel like family.

Here’s to you Roses. May you rest in eternal peace.

Buds and Roses

/ Denise / 4 Comments

At the end of 2022, my family joined me in celebrating my birthday yet again. Over the past few years this has become a quiet family moment for me – one that I absolutely treasure.  It is never the same.  My nieces and nephews drop in and out, depending on their social itinerary.  My sons stay and go depending on their location – living abroad poses a bit of a problem.  And I can always count on my siblings.  The menu varies depending on our moods – but cake and ice cream are a must.  Thanks to my husband who always makes the effort to ensure that I am well pampered.

This year my sister-in-law introduced a simple but very thoughtful table heart-to-heart.  Sharing our Roses, Thorns and Buds for 2022 and the New Year.  Roses represent the good things in our life.  Thorns are those things that caused us pain.  And Buds are the things that we look forward to in the future.

So simple, yet so poignant.

We shared sincerely, with some jokes in between.  We were reflective and appreciative.  We supported each other through the process.  We learned a bit more about each other’s trials and tribulations.  And ended on a happy note that we were so willing and able to continue to open ourselves up in a loved and protected space.

I learned a few things:

  • We are a family that loves being a family.
  • We truly care for each other and are happy for each other
  • Our sense of humour which may seem warped to others, helps us through our trials and tribulations.
  • Retirement is a stage of life that brings reason, simplicity and gratitude for our blessings.

May your months ahead be filled with Buds and Roses, and may the thorns dissipate with the love of your family and friends who support and protect you.