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The house

We are clearing out my Mum’s house. We know we need to sell it but the house has been part of us for 67 years. Mum had a big input into the design and Dad built it. She wanted a kitchen that was immersed in the life of the place, not tucked away in a separate room as so many were back then. We had an open plan kitchen/dining area before it was a thing. And she wanted to be able to look out the window onto garden.

She wasn’t one to declutter, so there are many things in the house that are part of the fabric of our lives. I am looking at things afresh. For so many years this china plate, that side table, those books had just been in the background; now they have jumped to the foreground as we think about where they are to go. And it is these things that have been the trickiest for me.

I thought Mum’s clothes would be hard to deal with, as clothes represent the person. Who we are is expressed in our choice of what we wear. However, they ended up being the easiest for me. Bundled up and off to the op shop (or they will be when I get them there!). Maybe it was that they weren’t my size (Mum was always a wee dot of a woman) or often not my taste.

Mum loved scarves, and usually wore one every day. I have kept a number of them, as I have a project in mind. More on that at another time.

She also loved jewellery. Nothing expensive, necklaces, bracelets, brooches, ear rings. She never wore makeup, except for lipstick ~ that was compulsory ~ but every morning she selected jewellery and scarves to match what she was wearing. And perfume, always a spray of perfume.

There is a part of me that feels like we are dismantling her life, separating all these things that together made up who she was. It has to be done, I understand that. I also understand that my memory of Mum is not an accumulation of all these things. I don’t a shrine to remember Mum and Dad. They are within me. I am the person I am because of them, and they will be with me for the rest of my life.

My cousins have had a chance to go through the jewellery and select pieces to keep.They were delighted with their selections. I am comforted by the thought that each time they wear those earrings, the bracelet, the necklace they will think of their sweet Aunty Ro. Memories of Mum are widespread.

However, the dismantling is more complicated because this was our home for all our lives, the hearth of our family, where we would gather. Our place to return to for Christmas and birthdays and just to be together. So, letting go won’t be easy. But without Mum and Dad it is not the same place, and now it is time to let another family build their precious memories there.

(I was going to tell you about the embroideries I have brought home However this post has headed off in an unexpected direction and has taken longer to write than I expected. So the embroideries will be for another time. Maybe a series on “My Mum’s Things”!)

I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live and remember – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. The land always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.

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Memory Walk progress

I am slowly building up my fitness to be able to walk 6kms for the Memory Walk for Dementia Australia in May. I am walking in honour of my Terry. If you would like to know more, follow the link. I continue to be moved by the generosity of people who have donated.

Each month I am aiming to add an extra kilometre to my walks; that’s 4km in February (so I had better get my walking shoes on!)

By January I wanted to be able to walk one circuit of Princes Park, that’s the blue line in the photo. (The Walk is twice around.) And I was able to do it…and even have a little breath left over for chats along the way!

I’ll report progress at the end of Feb, as you are helping me to get off the couch and out the door.

I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live and walk – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. The land always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.

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My art work Texture

I hope to blog more regularly in 2024

Instead of resolutions for the new year, because they don’t work, I made a list of things that I hope for in 2024. Regular blogging was one of them.

And the unwritten part of that was to re-engage with all you wonderful bloggy people, because that’s fallen away over the last few months too. I love knowing what is happening in your worlds and I have missed that.

So….

I am starting to find my way in this new world I am living in. I am consciously going to more things and making sure I catch up with people I care about.

And I am doing some creative work. I am not sure if I have mentioned my embroidery series of wetlands. I have worked on them over the last year, maybe longer, and no surprise to know they are free form embroideries of wetlands and ponds.

One of the delights in doing them is working different stitches to re-create the plants. The one below is the latest one and I discovered a stitch that is fun and makes good bushes. It’s the lighter green.

It’s made by twisting a length of yarn against its natural twist. You come up through the backing material then twist and twist and twist and keep going until it tangles itself up to make a bundle of twists, and then you go back down through the material and tie it off. (Wool works way better than embroidery thread.) Other stitches (if that one I just described could be called a stitch) used in this one are velvet, French knots, seed and the one that makes little grub shapes whose name escapes me for the moment. Bullion stitch? Maybe.

I have set up another one that I hope to be a companion to the middle work. Instead of wetlands/ponds, I am trying to recreate the banks of the river near me, the Maribyrnong River. I am letting my mind play around with thoughts for creating a bigger version of the same sort of thing ~ stitching the Maribyrnong.

I’ve shown you these three in particular because I have submitted them to Uppercase Magazine. It’s an inspiring magazine, with the tagline “for the creative and curious” and I subscribe; it may be one that you enjoy too. It is funded by subscriptions, and it is ad free. Each issue I always find something to inspire me.

Every issue has pages of reader submissions, showcasing their work. The theme of the next issue is “landscapes”. So how could I miss the opportunity to submit my work? Fingers crossed that at least one of my little embroidered landscapes makes the cut. I’ll let you know.

Now, to my walking. Do you remember that I have joined Dementia Australia’s Memory Walk in May, in memory of my Terry? I have to walk 6kms by then. My aim for January was the build up to an easy 3kms. I am sorry to say that my attempts have been patchy this month, due to some health issues. However today I walked over 3km…..in two 1.5km lots as I had a coffee break with friends in between! This coming week I will do a walk at Princes Park, where the May walk will be, and see how far I can get. I will let you know, as you are helping to keep me accountable and on track.

I have been astounded and touched by the generosity of people donating to my page. A big thank you to Alys, who left the most beautiful message with her donation. Follow this link if you would like to make a donation to this most worthy cause, or find out more….absolutely no pressure to do so, though.

And we now have 4 members on Team Terry!

I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live and walk – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. The land always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.

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Butterfly time

Early this year I wrote a post that mentioned Dragonfly Time. Dragonflies, which were so prolific at that time, symbolise transition, change, adaptability. It helped me get through some very difficult times when Terry moved into residential accomodation.

Now it is Butterfly Time. Again, they are prolific visitors to my garden, and especially love the statice. Butterflies are symbols of rebirth and metamorphosis, which again is just what I am going through.

Finding my feet in this new life is a process, I understand this. I am learning that grief is a strange thing. Mostly I am fine but can get teary quite easily. Some days the exhaustion of the stress from the last years overwhelms me and I curl up on the couch. Some days I am able to get most things on my To Do List done and other days having coffee with a friend will exhaust me. However, I am gentle with myself and try to have time to bobble along at my own pace.

A big thing to think about ~ and this comes back to the butterfly metaphor ~ is the shape of my life in the years to come. What might I become in this new world? What’s my purpose? For the last 5 years or so it has been Terry and his declining health. Before that it was art. Before that it was teaching for many years. Now I am not sure. Definitely art in there somewhere. But at the moment I don’t need to be sure. I just need to be open to ideas and thoughts, and listen to what feels right.

It’s not as if I don’t have things to do. My life is about dealing with Stuff ~ physical Stuff and task Stuff, so much Stuff (another post about all of that!). And I have some plans forming in my brain. My house is in dire need of maintenance and a good spruce up. I am gathering ideas about that. I am doing some sewing, and have a few more plans about that.

I have a big plan, and it is exciting, and I want to tell you about it.

I am doing the Memory Walk in 2024, in memory of Terry, and also to raise money for Dementia Australia.

https://www.memorywalk.com.au/fundraisers/annelawson/melbourne

In May I am going to walk 6 km (twice around Princes Park in Carlton, there’s a map below), along with friends who have joined Team Terry. I am being sponsored by anyone who wants to donate money to this excellent cause. I am blown away by the generosity of people so far. If you follow the link to my page you can see that I am well over my target already!

I mention the 6 km figure because at the moment I can, on one of my good days, walk 2 km. Only a third of the distance. My plan is, by the end of each month between now and May, to have increased the distance I can walk by a kilometre.

So there is a good reason to pull on my shoes and get out the door for a decent walk each day. No excuses. And we know how important regular exercise is to being healthy, including/especially brain health. I may even shed a couple of the way-too-many kilograms I am carrying. That would be a bonus.

At the end of each month I am going to update you on my walking progress, so you will be an important part of my team too 😊

The blue is the 3km circuit. By May I will need to be able to do two of these! The black loop is my progress so far. A few more steps to go!!

I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live and walk – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. The land always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.

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Finding my feet

I am beginning to find my feet in this new(ish) world I am in.

And I am taking it slow, listening to what I need.

I have a wonderful group of people around me who understand that I am moving at my own pace. It is reassuring to have that support, with out the pressure of expectation. Like meeting friends for coffee, or have them ring to see how I am doing or knowing I can drop in for dinner anytime I don’t want to cook for myself. Or my sister travelling across town in peak hour traffic to go to dinner with me. I am so thankful for my crowded table.

I am tired at times, and energised at others. I know the last years have taken a big toll, especially emotionally draining, and it will take a while to recover. Then the difficulties of this horrible year, with the deaths of both my Terry and my Mum.

Two funerals are too many, but with both we celebrated the loved person that each was.

Terry’s was only small (I am going to organise a larger memorial for January) and informal. I had the structure of recounting Terry’s life, and asked people to contribute their memories along the way. So it was full of Terry Tales, of which there were many, including ones his brother in the UK had sent.

One of our friends said “Everyone is unique, but Terry was even more unique”. He was a proud, fiery, passionate, opinionated man, and you were never in any doubt about what Terry thought about anything (especially the Liberal Party!). Many who came across him could only see that as brash and abrasive. However that passion carried over into friendships. If Terry was your friend he would be loyal and generous, with his time, his money and his advice. He loved helping others, spending time with sick neighbours or mowing lawns or welding things that needed fixing. And he loved a chat ~ with anyone! He knew way more neighbours than I did.

So, we laughed and cried and remembered as we stood around his coffin, with the photo tribute playing behind us.He would have loved being the centre of attention! Then we wrote farewell messages on the coffin, so our love could go with him.

Not the usual funeral, by any means, but perfect for him, and especially perfect for me. I wondered about leading and speaking. My brother-in-law is very accomplished MC and would have done a brilliant job. However I realised it was important to me to do it myself. My Terry and I have been together, side by side, through so much….I knew we had to be together this one last time.

So moving into a new life without him.

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My Terry

It is with great sadness that I tell you that my loved Terry (aka ‘the Fella’) died a fortnight ago.

He was frail, both mentally and physically, so his death was not unexpected. However it was a shock. I was with him, in the residential care home, for a little while in the morning, as I always was. While his behaviour was odd and he was very weak, needing a wheelchair to get him back to his room, I didn’t expect that that would be the last time I would see him. The nurse rang a couple of hours after I left to say his pulse was very weak and I needed to come in. By the time I got there, only 10-15 minutes later, he had died.

It’s been a shit year….the emotional turmoil of Terry going into care, Mum’s death and now the death of Terry. While I no longer have these two key people in my life, I am not alone as I have so many supportive and caring people surrounding me.

And I am doing okay.

Of course I am grieving for Terry. However it is a clean grief, not tainted by regrets or guilt. I know that the choices I had to make on his behalf were made from love. I was with him almost every day he was in Gregory Lodge, the nursing home. While I wasn’t there when he drew his last breath, as I left that morning I told him, as I always did, that I loved him and wished him sweet dreams. So, there is a deep sadness and I miss him, but I have no regrets.

My life moves on, as it always does. I can feel the changes that are brewing in me. I have begun a crafty project that I hope to tell you about soon and my hands are itching to get embroidering. My decluttering continues and my garden is getting more care.

All that is still to come. At the moment I am sitting with my Terry, remembering.

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My Mum

My Mum died a few weeks ago. She was 97, and lived a good life, full of love and friends and travel and good books and projects and family. She was my friend and a big part of my life. I miss her.

So, I want to pay tribute to her by writing down what I read at her funeral.

Mum, on our trip to Japan, when she was 90! And of course we brought material home with us.

I have been thinking about the many things Mum taught me, and the things I learned from her.

Mum taught me many things. She taught me to embroider and knit, both things she learnt from her much loved Nana. And I often think of them when I sew.

She taught me to use a sewing machine. I remember holiday times with when we would go up to the material shop in Moorabbin, buy material, spread the material and pattern on the lounge room floor to cut out and then set the machine up on the kitchen bench. I think she learnt to sew from her sister, Helen. Mum said that Aunty Helen could look at a frock in the shop window and come home and make it.

Mum encouraged me in every way. She loved to hear about my latest project. Dad and Mum were always enthusiastic about my art and I will miss the unconditional support they both gave me.

And I learned so much from Mum too.

I learned that reading was a central part of life. Most conversations with Mum had a book discussion tucked in there.

I learned to love gardening, to be curious, to be an enthusiastic traveller. And from her example I learnt how to be a good friend. She listened and remembered and was never judgemental. She always made you feel special and was one of those people you wanted to be with. I treasured the times I spent with her.

Mum had been a teacher until she married, and later became a Brownie leader. She had a Brownie pack in Moorabbin, but also helped to establish packs in inner city suburbs like Collingwood and Fitzroy. I used to help out at times. I learnt so much from watching her with the Brownies. Her calm and patient way with the children had a big influence when I became a teacher.

But perhaps the most important thing I learnt from Mum and Dad was about the strong bond that love brings. Their love for each other and their love for us four children showed me the power that unconditional love has. That flowed onto an acceptance and generosity towards others that came into our lives.

So many things I learnt from her, and Dad. This last one circles back to the poem I am going to read.

During the 1980’s we had a house boat up at Lake Eildon. We often went there, especially at Easter, and had some wonderful family holidays there. We would fill the houseboat up will all the necessary supplies and then just amble along until we found a good spot on the bank, where we would moor, and relax.

I loved spending time there but it took me a while to really appreciate the environment. The bush was rather scrubby, the banks were exposed and rocky. Then Mum would remark on the quality of the light ~ the soft morning light, the colours of the evening sky, the way it made the bush glow and the water sparkle.

And I began to see the place differently. I could appreciate the beauty because I saw it through Mum’s eye. And I learned that there is beauty in everything, it is just a matter of looking at it the right way.

And so to Mum’s poem, which I found in this book of quotes. I knew Mum wrote many things, but I have never known her to write poetry.

Thoughts on Eildon Lake by Ro Lawson, 17th January 1982

I love to hear the currawong,

The duck’s quark, quark and the whistler’s song.

I love to hear the magpie’s trill

The kookaburra’s call and the shrike so shrill.

I love to see the moon’s soft light,

The sunset colours all so bright.

I love to see the fern so small,

The parrot’s flight and the dead trees tall.

I love to walk in the bush each day,

See the fish go plop and the rabbits play.

I love to come where the water’s deep,

Where echidnas dig and wombats sleep.

I love to know the bush is there

For everyone to love and share.

I love to know the quiet is real,

That stars still shine and it’s peace you feel.

I love to think how it came to be,

How the tiny seed became a tree.

I love to hope in the years to come

This lake is a haven for everyone.

I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live, garden and contemplate my world – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. The land always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.

I strongly encourage all Australians to vote Yes for an indigenous Voice to Parliament in tomorrow’s referendum.

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Does he still know you?

My partner Terry has severe vascular dementia and now lives in residential accommodation.

When I chat to friends and neighbours a common question is “Does he still know you?”. (The second common question is “How are you doing by yourself?”, which is a post for another time.)

I understand why people ask. It is something we know about the various forms of dementia. And it is something we dread. We dread that blank reaction, or a hostile “Who are you?”. We dread that the person we have loved for so long has gone so far away from us, into a world that excludes us.

Fortunately my short answer is “Yes, Terry does still know me”.

The longer answer is, of course, more complicated.

I know he knows me because there is always a reaction when I come in. Often it is a smile, a kiss and a hug. Or it could be straight into continuing a conversation he is having with himself. Or a complaint based on his own skewed perception, usually about other residents. He always recognises me.

So he knows me; he knows that we are a couple with a strong bond. He has the memory of me as someone who helps him, who loves and supports him. I suspect he sees me as the person who can bring him back to the real world.

There are times when he rambles on about something, and often I have no idea what it is. I interrupt him ~ “I saw Mum the other day” ~ and we have a brief conversation about her, and then he goes back to his rambles. For that short time I have been able to have him come back to me.

However, he doesn’t remember my life or our life together. For example he has been obsessed with ‘the boys’. I don’t know who they are, or why they crop up in Terry’s world. “Where are the boys?” “I saw the boys this morning and then they ran away.” “Who is looking after the boys?” When I said “Their mother”, he said “But you’re their mother.” Today he asked me how many children I had, thinking I had 6! Each time he asks I tell him I don’t have any children, but obviously ‘the boys’ are the stronger idea.

Another common question concerns me working, and again the idea that I retired quite a few years ago doesn’t stick. Or where do I sleep? Sometimes he seems to think I am sleeping somewhere else in the facility. He doesn’t remember our house or the lives we lived there.

My life when I am not with him is beyond his understanding.

And I am okay with that. He remembers the essence of me and our relationship. I treasure that. He knows that I am there with him, supporting him, holding his hand, as he tries to navigate this confusing world he is living in.

I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live, garden and contemplate my world – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. The land always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.

I strongly encourage all Australians to vote Yes for an indigenous Voice to Parliament in the upcoming referendum.

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Still okay!

I am intending to write a post that may be intense, so I thought I would send out this message to let you know that I am okay. I am finding myself again. This year I have had to work my way through lots of things, and I want to write about some of them.

I also want to say that I enjoy reading your posts. I may not always comment, but know that what you write means a lot to me.

There’s no need to comment!

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Meeting up

My favourite thing about blogging (as well as being able to blather on about whatever I choose ☺️ ) is our wonderful community of bloggers. You are the most supportive, creative and downright interesting group of people! And I know that you have wrapped your arms around me over the last few months.

Because we are all over the world, it is not easy to meet up. That’s why it is a special event when we can.

Kate, who blogs at Tall tales from Chiconia, was in Melbourne this week, and we had lunch together!!!

I know that many of you know Kate, and love to read about her latest adventure, usually in sewing, but often with her dog Mouse or taking off in her van. In fact I see Kate as the keystone of our little blogging community. She involves and encourages so many of us, especially though her regular Scrap Happy posts. If you haven’t met Kate, jump over to her blog. You are in for a treat.

Last Sunday I joined Kate, Chippy (who blogs at Life by a compass. not a clock, check her out too!) and some of Kate’s relatives for lunch. And of course Kate’s husband who generously paid for the meals. Mine was delicious. It was such a treat to sit and chat.

That’s Kate on the right. You may notice that she is wearing her amazing handmade patchwork coat. It is stunning! It definitely brightened up a cold Melbourne day….although that Sunday was the pick of the week, which has been cold and showery. I bet Kate and John are happy to be back in balmy northern Queensland!

Thanks for a lovely visit, Kate. See you next year. 😘