How soon we forget! I was flicking back through some photos and came across this one of Jules in November
and had totally forgotten that he used to stick his tongue out like that! I used to call it his weather beacon. Clearly he has replaced that cute thing with a hundred others, but it’s nice to be reminded of these little memories. Oh my baby.
I can’t even really give you much context, other than I was recording Jules almost falling asleep while mum feeds him, and Quinn came out with this corker. It’s very hard to discipline your 5-year-old about swearing when you can’t stop laughing.
By the way, the word mum was looking for was osmosis…
I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t believe in mediums or psychics. I don’t believe in fortune tellers.
I do believe in God. And I do believe in signs.
I’ve brought my laptop down to my new favourite cafe which is at Woody Point, while my nanny (who is a friend) is at home with the boys. This is the second time I’ve done this. My last two blog posts were written here.
When I arrived, I ordered my standard coffee, which many of you know by now is a small soy cap. It occurred to me that Frith actually put me onto ordering cappuccinos. He always liked to eat the froth and chocolate off the top before hitting up the coffee underneath. He took his time, and he would judge the coffee on the amount and texture of froth.
This was Frith’s 30th with a very baby Chanbe. See those sprinkles!!??
Anyway my point is, I used to order soy flat whites. And not long after we got together, I changed my coffee order to caps. And funnily enough, my froth was always better than his. He often had froth envy.
I looked on the lunch menu today and saw they had a beef brisket sandwich with caramelized onions on sourdough toast. I’ve just listed three of Frith’s favourite foods, and they are all combined here. He only ever cooked two briskets in his life and they were both the best meals I’ve ever had. Hands down.
This is what Frith would have ordered at this cafe, and he wouldn’t have been disappointed in the least. I don’t normally like to order things that I can (and do) make at home (I never order pulled pork because quite frankly mine is the best). I ordered it without a second thought and it was absolutely on par with Frith’s.
But here’s the thing. As the meal was placed on my table, the next song to come on was “Let her go“. When Frith drove our car full of stuff down from Mount Isa to Rocky, this song was on his playlist, and he told me after that trip, that when he heard it, he got really really sad and missed me a lot. It wasn’t often he would say things like this to me. He was very free with “I love yous” and “you’re so pretty” but telling me that he missed me was a rare thing.
It was nice and I always remembered that, especially when I hear that song. So in a way, I had lunch with Frith today. He was with me in spirit. And it was nice.
When I imagine Frith in the afterlife, the word that comes to mind is clarity. Frith always had so many conflicting emotions that he was constantly trying to resolve. He would get so annoyed at himself that he couldn’t just “be happy” with what he had, and where he was at. He knew it was futile, but he was always trying to do things/buy things/move places to make him happy.
Deep down he knew that he had to find happiness in himself, and unfortunately he struggled with that. And I truly believe that he now has full understanding of his earthly feelings; everything has come to make sense to him now, and he must have a sense of relief at having this clarity wash over him. And I wonder if he’s up there, looking down at me and thinking “honey it’s okay. One day you’ll understand as well.”
At least that’s what I imagine the afterlife to be. I’d never thought much about it before now, other than “yeah there’s God and there’s heaven” and of course it has made me question so many things, and I feel like I’m in a constant state of pondering.
I guess I long for the answers that I believe Frith now has, but all I have is an endless list of questions.
This time last year, I was rather pregnant, and about to hit up the Rocky night life for a friend’s hen’s night.
I’d had a fight with Frith in the afternoon about some meaningless crap, and decided to bugger off early to have some time to myself before meeting the girls. When I got home, he was waiting up for me and apologised. He rarely apologised to be honest, and this meant a lot to me. Gosh the things we remember…
I was at a work conference and I snagged him a ticket to the conference dinner. He had just arrived back from 10 days overseas the day before and insisted on coming to see me. This is where we, for want of a better phrase, finally hooked up. We hit the d-floor, a slow number came on, and he went in for the pash. Yeah, super classy. My work colleagues were very mature about the whole thing.
If he saw this outfit now he would find it hilarious. Loose shirt, no vest, and super daggy tie. And I was in love. The start of something pretty darn amazing.
I’m scared that if I start, I’ll fall into the giant chasm of despair, that’s waiting for me ever so quietly, patiently, and I’m not sure I would have the strength to claw myself back out.
I can’t think much about my new reality. I just can’t. How can I acknowledge the fact that the kids are going to grow up without their Dad? How can I even contemplate the idea that Darby and Julius will have absolutely no memory of Frith? And that Quinn will only have snippets and stories and photos? And that Chance’s heart will always be a bit sad and heavy with the absence of such an amazing Dadda.
I just can’t.
You say that I’m being brave and strong. I feel neither courage nor strength; it’s just my survival and Mama bear instincts getting me out of bed every day. I do it because I can’t bare the thought of the kids losing me to the grief that simmers just below the surface.
Don’t make me imagine my life without him. We had plans. We had dreams. We had ideas. We had choices. And we made them all together. Don’t ask me to now make them all on my own.
This is waaaaaaay way back! Circa 1980. I’m the teeny tiny bubba, maybe a month or two old? And that’s my brother, about 18 months old, with Grandpa and Nanny.
If you’re new to the blog, you may not know that Nanny, who was my Dad’s mum, was very special to me. She and Grandpa both passed away in 2011. I’ve blogged about them a lot over the years, but this post probably gives you the best idea about what kind of amazing lady she was.
I can just imagine, when Frith got to heaven, Nanny marching over and saying to him in her thick Russian accent “Come here I shmack you.”
Give him one from me too, Nanny. Then take good care of each other xxx