Midnight Ramblings

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Grief is my constant companion

He stands behind me and a little to the right

With his left hand on my shoulder

He is present in every conversation

Every decision, every moment

Sometimes his hand is soft and light

Other times it pushes me down with the weight

Sometimes his hand is comforting

And sometimes his hand causes me pain

We are bound together, grief and I

Forever destined to walk together

For better or for worse he is with me

My constant companion

Standing behind me an a little to the right

 

It is the middle of the night and I can’t sleep.  My thoughts stray to my daughter in-law, Kari-Lee and how much I miss her.

It has been just over six months since she left this earth and still I find it hard to believe that she is really gone.

I have watched my son grieve for his wife and it has broken my heart. I watch him as he struggles to find the man that he is now that she is gone. I watch as he struggles under the scrutiny of those around him, afraid to make a mistake, afraid to let other people down, afraid to disappoint them. I offer him my words of wisdom, such as they are, but I have never walked in his shoes and I don’t have the answers he so desperately seeks.

I remember when he was young and he would be full of questions about the world. He would ask me why the sky is blue and I would tell him why.  Not some made up story, but the real reason why and he would look at me like I was the most amazing person on earth and he would ask me how I knew these things and I would tell him it is because I am a mum and mothers know everything. Now he knows that that is not true.

With Mother’s Day just gone, I feel like I have failed him because I can’t give him the answers he seeks.  I couldn’t protect him from the hurt and the pain he is going through and I can’t protect him from the eyes of those who watch and judge him. What good is a mother who can’t protect her son?

I also have another son who is trying to blaze a trail in his life, growing into a man and finding out what that means.  It’s like watching him try on different suits to see which one fits and I want to point to one and tell him,  “That is the one,” but I can’t, he has to make his own decisions, he has to find the one that feels right for him, regardless of what it looks like for me.

And I worry about him. I worry about the grief he is feeling with the loss of his sister in-law. He is the strong silent type and I worry that he is too young to deal with such a thing.  I want to protect him from the harsh realities of life and death and love and hurt, but I can’t.

We mothers birth these babies and we nurture them and give them sustenance from our very own bodies and then they grow and grow and eventually grow away from us. And that is good, and right, and what they are supposed to do, but still it hurts to watch.

When they are little we kiss their hurts to make them better, but how do you mend the broken heart of your child? How do you take their grief and their pain from them? How do you stand by and watch them suffer knowing there is nothing that you can do to help?

I rail at he injustice of it. There are people in the world who do bad things, intentionally go out of their way to hurt people. There are cruel and nasty people who live long and fruitful lives.  Why did my beautiful daughter in-law have to die and these people still get to live? A question for the ages. I know that Kari-Lee is not the only person who deserved life, I know that there have been countless senseless deaths of innocents, I know that there is evil in the world that steals the lives of good, honest, hardworking people.  There is no rhyme or reason to it and those of us left behind are left wondering why?

There is no answer to that question and yet we must go on.  We must go on doing life even though it no longer makes sense, even though we don’t want to. The only options left to us are to give up hope or to live in a way as to honor those who have lost their lives. Kari-Lee lived large, taking every opportunity to experience everything life had to offer. She fit more living into her twenty five years than I have in my forty two and that inspires me to not give up hope.

I don’t know the end of my story or my sons’ stories. I will never be able to answer all their questions, as much as I would wish to be able to. I will never be able to protect them from the hurts of the world. The only thing I can offer them is a soft place to land when everything becomes too much and a hope for the future.

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Realisation of a Dream

Emma Lea

This Sunday is Mother’s Day in Australia and it is also the release date for my first full length novel.

Walk of Shame 600x900

Walk of Shame was the first novel I had ever finished and it took a long time for me to edit it and then actually get it published.  Last week I published a free short story, The Five Year Plan, as a lead in to this book.

This is a really emotional release for me.  I wrote a lot of this book while my daughter-in-law was terminally ill in hospital.  I hadn’t finished it before she passed away, but I was determined to follow it through.  My daughter-in-law was a woman who didn’t let anything stand in the way of her achieving her dreams and this book is dedicated to her.

So this weekend is the realisation of a dream I have had for a really long time.  There have…

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It’s Release Day!

Check out this free book!

Emma Lea

The Five Year Plan Bookcover

This is my first official book!  It is a short story that leads into my next book, which is a full length novel.  I am so excited!  I never really thought this would come to pass, but here it is in living colour!

It hasn’t been an easy ride and I’ve been journaling the last few weeks on my other blog Writers Lyf.  I have been running the gauntlet of digital self publishing and it hasn’t been a walk in the park, but it is now release day and my book is live.

I have made it available for free on iBooks and Kobo and it is currently at 99c on Amazon (because I can’t offer it for free), but I am working on getting it to price match, therefore making it free.

I’d really love it if you could download it and give it a read.  I know…

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‘Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world.’ – Marilyn Monroe

If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, the way to a woman’s is through her shoes 👠

Emma Lea

There is just something about a great pair of shoes.

I have never really considered myself a ‘shoe person’.  I only really have six pairs of shoes (work shoes, gym shoes, thongs (flip flops, not underwear), summer sandals, casual flats and one pair of boots for winter.)  At one stage in my life I only ever bought black shoes because they went with everything, now I’m a little more adventurous.

What I have discovered through the writing of my first complete novel is that I actually do love shoes.  The name of my upcoming series is “Love, Money & Shoes” in which I use high-end designer shoes as a plot device.  Who knew?  I have a closet shoe fetish.

Maybe if I had to wear high heels everyday or worked in the city or had more money I might be tempted to buy more shoes and, secretly, I wish I did…

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Moving House

moving-house

 

 

I have just spent the last two weeks moving house.  I have moved a lot and I hate every bit of it!  How on earth can four people accumulate so much stuff!  It makes me yearn for a minimalist lifestyle, but alas, my family are a bunch of hoarders.

It always starts out the same.  I have grand plans of an organised and stress-free move.  I have lists and marking pens and tape and I even have an app! But, as they say in all good war stories, all plans are perfect until the first shot is fired.  No sooner are the boxes taped and ready than the plans fall apart.

I like to blame my husband for this.  He just starts throwing things in boxes higgledy piggledy and then taping them up without marking them and moving them into the shed and pretty soon I don’t know what is what.  My beautifully choreographed move is now a shambles.

I always promise myself that I will de-clutter as I pack, but again this is just a pipe dream.  I start out with good intentions but then the family will interfere…don’t throw that out…I need that…that’s mine!….argh!  During one move we threw out 3 1/2 cubic metres of CRAP!  Last time it was 2 this time it was only one trailer load to the dump, so maybe we are not accumulating so much stuff as we used to (or I’m getting worse at de-cluttering!).

The absolute worst part of moving is the end.  Trying to pack all those last minute bits and pieces that don’t really have a home but you don’t want to throw out.  Trying to balance what you can pack and what you need to leave out to live and then those things you leave out are then the last things that you move. And then the cleaning…don’t get me started on the cleaning.

This is when tiredness starts its attack.  Days of packing and cleaning and carrying and moving and pretty soon you are exhausted.  You’ve been eating nothing but takeaway for goodness knows how many days and your body is crying out for something GREEN.

And then moving day arrives.  The truck pulls into the driveway and your whole life gets put into a container.  Every treasured momento, those things you “just had to have” all get lumped together in a 3 metre cube and transported to your new address.

Some people see moving as a chance to start over, a chance to begin again fresh.  I see the merit in this, but I prefer to see it as another chapter rather than a new story.  As I unpack all my worldly possessions, I am reminded of why I have them in the first place.  We attach memories to momentos and it feels good to have them surround us.  A house is just a building until it is filled with all those things that make it a home.