Wonderland Wanderess

  Friday, 3rd June, 2022 Dad's Funeral  Written and read by me Dear Dad,   The old saying goes, ‘It’s better to be late, than dead on time’ … but what happens when it’s both? It breaks my heart to know you left this world without knowing the noise within my mind.   I spent most of my life on an incessant quest to fill the enormous hole inside me, never truly grasping that nothing would ever fit right, because that hole, was shaped like you.   I recall feeling invincible atop your shoulders as a tiny girl; and if I close my eyes, I can still feel your arms around me as a woman—the prodigal daughter—returned to you at last.   This was our dance and we both knew our parts so well. Yet the right words were never said. In the end, each of us slipped further and further away from each other.   But your burden is no longer yours to carry. You are home now, at peace, safe in Nanna’s arms once more.   Rest easy, Dad. I love you.   Forever and always, Your daughte

  Conflict will either unite, or divide.  Destruction lingers on the winds accompanying it, as death lingers in the hearts of those who have loved and lost. See, the thing about loss is that it will either strengthen, or shatter; harden, or soften. We fight to hold on, and we fight to let go. Hardships are fire to be wielded as either a sword of flames, or the fuel which burns down empires. But the ashes of fallen empires form the mortar to construct the most indestructible and impenetrable of fortresses. The builders of these safe havens harbour every stone and stick ever thrown their way; bank them in silos, awaiting the day their resilience is called upon to serve their fellow humans. The warriors of empathy as they are cannot be perturbed by falsely hateful words. They are comprised only of love, waiting patiently in the dark for the lost to join them in the light. They do not give up and refuse to walk away. As Martin Luther King once said, "You cannot drive out darkness with

  Trigger Warning: this short memoir contains graphic and candid recollections of a traumatic death.  It also discusses suicidal ideation and explores the darkest crevices of grief.  Some may find this content distressing.   Disclaimer: while the events and scenes of this memoir are all factual, the letters and dates have been fictionalised.  The dates are, however, my best estimate at the approximate point in time when each of these pivotal stages of my life occurred.     "The world was rumoured to be ending in 2012... in many ways, mine did."     05/02/2012 Surely this is a nightmare and soon I will awaken; you cannot truly be gone. I close my eyes and try to envision your once handsome face — those luscious lashes, twinkling brown eyes and gorgeous smile, framed with perfect olive skin—but that face is now gone, replaced with horror and gore. When I think of you, my mind conjures only the image of your battered face, bloody and disfigured; eyes closed, their sparkling ligh

Valentine's Day ⸺the epic day of love, originating in the year 496 in memory of the Roman priest, St Valentine.  Marriage had been ruled illegal but Valentine cared not. He was a champion of love and married couples regardless—a bold act which would cost him his life. Upon learning of Valentine's disregard for the laws of his land, Emperor Claudius II sentenced him to death. He was executed on February 14th but not before he'd fallen in love with the prison guard's daughter, whom he wrote his last words to — a love letter signed, 'Your Valentine' And thus, the tradition of Valentine's Day came into being. What a beautiful legacy to leave behind, born of equal parts love, death, grief and courage, not unlike my own Valentine's Day tragedy. February 14th, 2012 was the day my boys and I buried their Angel Daddy and one of the greatest loves of my life — Chris. Little Lachlan not even yet 2 years old, Christopher Jr. barely the size of a cherry in

People say, " you don't know what you've got until it's gone" but the truth is, with Brad, I always knew.  The statement,  "True friends are like diamonds, precious but rare..." is so, so very true and it was never lost on me, that Brad was one of my diamonds.    2012 was, undoubtedly, the worst year of my life and the final kick in the guts, just one day before it ended, was a phone call during which I learned my best friend had left this world.  I will never forget the crashing in my ears, the sinking pit in my stomach, my knees hitting the floor as my legs gave way, the unshakeable belief that every person I loved seemed cursed to die.  Life seemed hell bent on slamming me back to the floor again, every time I found my feet. ~ To go back to where it all began, Brad was originally close mates with Dean, the biological father of my eldest son.  Early on in my pregnancy, when Dean and I were still together, Brad often looked out for me, ensuring

TRIGGER WARNING: this post contains very graphic detail, which some may find distressing My eldest son, Lachlan, did not ever meet his biological father, Dean.  Their entire father/son relationship amounted to approximately 3 telephone calls throughout the time between Lachlan's birth in 2010, and Dean's untimely death.  This aside, Lachlan and I were both lucky enough to find an amazing man, who not only loved me more fiercely and passionately than I had ever known, but also loved my son as though he were his own—Chris—the first man I ever truly loved.   When Chris and I discovered I was pregnant, we were surprised but thrilled.  We had our first ultrasound at 6 weeks and I will never forget the look of sheer wonder, delight and adoration on Chris's face as he watched the screen and listened to our baby's heartbeat.   I recall thinking, this is how it's supposed to be —i t's going to be so different this time around — it's going to be perfect... how