Strange times

So, we were meant to be getting married in three days. This morning, my phone buzzed with a google calendar alert reminding me that today we were meant to be heading in to start setting up our venue - to line the tables with our table runners, decorate with the candles and jars and hessian, ready for the flowers to go in on Friday. Put up our 'til death do us party sign. Stress about the tiny details that don't really matter.

I think about how excited we should've been getting. I don't reckon I would be able to sleep by this point.

Our family and friends would have been starting to arrive from interstate and overseas, while our family and friends that already live here would be helping us get the house ready for the tea ceremony, and the last loose ends tied. No doubt I would be upset with my dad over something he had only just remembered to tell me that I needed to do, lest risk dishonouring my culture.

We would have just bought all the stuff for the cheese table that my work friend was going to put together for us and we would be struggling to fit it in the fridge with all the food for the family meet-and-greet BBQ that my sister and cousin were going to throw for us the next day, after my bridesmaids and I had been up since ridiculous-o'clock buying and arranging the flowers for the big day. Somewhere in the day I would have to find time to get my nails done.

I would be tired, and stressed, and most likely irritable. Someone - probably my sister or Aron - would have to tell me to pull my head in and stop being a jerk before I realised and settled down.

My blood type by this point would likely be Moccona Dark Roast. I would be looking forward to a transfusion of gin on Saturday. And to seeing Aron cry as I walked down the aisle towards him (or making him cry if he wasn't *shakes fist*) and to finally getting to marry the love of my life and partying with my friends and family. Before finally getting to move in to my house officially and live with a boy not related to me!

Instead, here we are. In the middle of a global pandemic. At home, in self-isolation. On the annual leave that we originally took for the wedding. One of my bosses did ask if I still wanted to take it - I told him if I could I would, because I needed some mental health time, but also that I could come back to work early if need be - it's not as if I would be doing anything anyway. I did get to move in, but that was more so that I stopped taking my hospital germs home to my dad and family, and spreading them between two houses. I suppose it's something though. And my relationship with my Dad has definitely been so much better for it - I've gone from trying to avoid seeing him in our own home, to speaking to him on the phone every day, and genuinely missing him.

Cancelling the wedding that we've been planning and looking forward to for a year and a half sucks, and I'm not gonna lie, I've had a few breakdowns about it. And then I've felt kind of guilty about said breakdowns. It's really weird, experiencing grief over something like this while so many people are sick and dying around the world. It feels irresponsible to wish that you were still getting married - after all, it was for the best  - not just for you but for everyone - to cancel, so people remind you, as if it's not possible to both mourn the loss of your wedding and still understand the importance of social distancing.

It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that it was okay to be upset; that I could be sad and still understand where cancelling our wedding fit into the scale of things going on in the world. I've worked in cancer therapy for the past six years, and perspective is not a new concept. I get over things eventually, you just gotta let me be dramatic first.

This week we officially announced our new wedding date - if the universe allows it - a year and nine days from now. All of our vendors but one were available, and the one that wasn't was happy to give us a refund for the deposit. Before we set out to rebook everything we made a pact to be as kind as we could because we knew that the industry was going to be hurting, and that we were in a position that not all other couples would be - with clinical jobs in public health that weren't going anywhere anytime soon, and being able to afford not to need our money back so long as the services were eventually provided. We made it clear that if anyone needed help, we could, and thankfully kindness is quite often reciprocated and re-planning was made easy. 

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It's such a strange time. A few months ago I'm sure the situation we all find ourselves in would have seemed impossible, yet here we are. Will all of us agree with the decisions that have to be made to keep us safe? No. Are we overreacting? Who knows. Are we not doing enough? Maybe.

But you know what, we have to trust that they are trying. Being in charge of a country must be fucking hard, and whatever decisions they make are going to be criticized. If we lock down and lives are spared, then people say we overreacted at the cost of the economy. If we don't lock down and this spirals out of control then the government hasn't done enough. Everyone suddenly becomes an expert as if making those calls are just that easy.

I look at what's happening in NY and just think of how much worse things could be. No one wants that. No one wishes that for any part of the world. You may not think this thing is a big deal, and you know what, you could be right, it could be the media blowing it out of proportion. But what if you're wrong? How shitty would you feel knowing that you had the chance to do something about it but you didn't? If someone you loved got sick because you didn't take things seriously?

I don't know how this post ended up going down this path. I'm not the kind of girl that talks about politics or world matters generally. I stopped watching the news for years because it just made me sad. I'm not saying that I agree with all of the decisions being made by our government, but man, everyone's trying their best. The least you can do is try and do yours, and to be kind while you're at it. At stop fucking hoarding shit you don't need.

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Originally when we made the decision to cancel our big wedding, we were still going to have a small tea ceremony at my Dad's, followed by a small backyard ceremony with just immediate family and the bridal party, so we could sign the papers. But then the tighter restrictions of only having five guests at a wedding came in and we felt it wouldn't be right to have our parents there at the very least, so we canned that too.

We were pretty sad about that as well, but it was a much easier hit to take. It helped that we got to come home to each other every day. And on top of that, all these people started being so extra kind to us - sending snacks and donuts and earrings and cheese and woolies and uber eats gift cards and all sorts of love and things that we didn't need but were so appreciated. And it was all too much and I still feel like we don't deserve such kindness, but it made me realise that we had to stop being so sad.

So we've decided that this Saturday, the 18th of April, 2020, our original wedding date, we're going to have a pretend wedding, with just the two of us, in our house. We're going to decorate the house and get all dolled up and do mini mock-versions of what we were gonna do on the day, from the tea ceremony, to mini vows and a ring exchange, a reception and a disco, and live stream and zoom parts of it. Everyone is invited to the 'reception' from 6.30pm onward, but dressing up is mandatory. Our catering will be provided by Uber Eats - thanks Bec - and I'm baking a cake to cut as I type. Hope you can join us! Yep, it's all kinda cheesy, but it's heaps better than just being sad!

Here's a picture of a candle I made for one of the tea ceremony trays. Traditionally, one of the trays contains big red fancy candles with a Phoenix and a Dragon on them. This gives you an idea of the quality you're going to receive from Saturday's shenanigans haha!

Fourteen

My work friends joke about how much I love Eminem. I could say that it’s because everything he says is real and I respect him ’cause he tells it, (and Aron’s jealous because I talk about him 24/7), but that’s only one part of it.

8 Mile was the movie that was on the night that Mum died. It was what I was watching when she left her room for the first time I’d seen that day, and lay on the couch in the living room next to me. It was an awkward movie to be watching with her, but it was nice to see out, and her presence was nice. I’ve talked about this before but, when the movie finished and I turned off the TV, mum looked up at me and spoke words that seemed insignificant at the time, but that I’ll never forget. “So that’s it? It’s over?” 

“Yes mum, it’s finished,” I replied and walked her back upstairs. I quickly called my then boyfriend to say goodnight before I went back to her room and insisted on spending the night with her despite her objections. That night, she asked me to hold her, and I did, the way she used to hold me when I was little and she was trying to get me to sleep. It was one of the last times that I heard her voice.

I didn’t know at the time that she had taken something – I still don’t know what the something was – just something that was enough to finish it. For it to be it; over. 

No matter how many years go by – it’s fourteen this year – and how well I think I’m doing, August seems to have this way of rearing its ugly head and reminding me of its presence and the significance that it has. But despite how ugly it can get, it always manages to give the gift of perspective when it is all too easy to get caught up on the insanity of life and the noise around me. While that night is one that I will always hold close to me, I have also learnt that there are parts of it that I have to let go, less they should consume me. I’ve seen what holding on does, and all it seems to bring is a toxic kind of hurt that nobody should have in their life. 

I have learnt that some people will not hear you, no matter how loudly or profoundly you speak. I’ve learnt to wish them well and let them go too.

Life is weird. One minute people are there, and they’re healthy. The next they’re not. The only thing that we can do is try and enjoy it while we’re here, and to try to be kind to each other while we do it. We won’t always be able to, but we can try. It’s as simple and cliché as that.

Now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve watched 8 Mile again since that night. I must not be able to bring myself to. Lose Yourself however, remains one of my favourite songs of all time: a story of resilience that I suppose I subconsciously associate with that part of my life. Weird, weird life.

Quiet

Quiet  

It's been

thirteen years

since The Silence 

and sometimes 

it still visits.

Only now it's a little 

different.

It's still deafening

but

not deadening

Is it not as strong as it

once was?

Or am I just a little stronger?

I still hear it

from time to time

It tries to strip me 

of my power 

Back down to that 

unsure

naive teenager

it still wants me to be

It tries to take me back to 

then 

when I thought 

that we were friends 

- The Silence and I -

before I realized that real friends

help to repair voids

not 

consume you with them.

Now beyond 

The Silence

that once consumed me

I hear it

I hear

the birds chirping

the wind blowing

the planes flying overhead

and I swear if I listen

hard enough

I could almost hear the sun shining  

I hear the world

as life carries on

beyond the silence.

Now it's just

Quiet

And it's nice.

*********

Today marks thirteen years, to the day that our family changed forever. I won't rehash the details that I've already written about in years passed. That night has a compartment in my head that replays flashes so clearly and vividly that I try to only very carefully and occasionally open it's door. 

In many ways I still feel like that sixteen year old girl who didn't know. Who didn't know that things had gotten that bad. Who didn't know what she'd done. Who didn't know that she was dying. Who didn't know how to save her. Who didn't know about life or the toll it can take on people. But the older I get the more I realise that no one knows really, and that the best we can do is to try and be there as much as we can, and do as much as we can do, and be the best people that we can be for ourselves and for those around us.

I would like to think that I've become a person that she could be proud of. That she would approve of (most of) my decisions and choices and that she would be happy knowing that I've got a good head on my shoulders and have surrounded myself with the type of people that will enrich my life as much as they've allowed me to theirs. That she would see the balance of strength and sunshine that she passed down to me and recognise, that I'll be okay. And I'll make sure we all will.