Wednesday, 27 March 2013


As I write this, it's the eve of the day. This day. 10 years since our lives were rocked and shattered. 

10 years is a long time. I don't want it to have been 10 years. I don't want one day for it to have been more than half my life. And one day for me to be the age that she was. But those things will happen.

It's been on my mind much these past few weeks. The coming up of a memory day; anniversary doesn't seem the right word...

Each day doesn't get easier as such. One just learns to live with it. To come to terms with it. After this much time in my life, I have come to terms with it - to a degree. I still can't believe it. Don't know why. Why why why. 

Huh! Why not, I remind myself. It's the cycle and the flow. It's necessary. It's inevitable. And that I suppose is the scary part in a different sense. 

Living on this land, that I think of as my mother's land, brings me closer to her. Closer in one way and further in another way. Because she should be here with me, when I'm here. She should, she should! But then - when I hear and see the black cockatoos careening and playing and stretching across the sky I think of her, I feel her. And she's here. When I see the flowers and plants she planted I know she's here.

It's said that the best way to honour and remember our loved ones is to talk of them, and keep them in our thoughts, our hearts, our minds. For me - I know that I am keeping my mother alive through my doing, my making, my being. 

Each year it becomes more and more important for me to continue on with my journey as a maker, a creative, an artist, a crafter because I know that those are the things that my mama would love to see in me. I know those are the parts of me that would make her happy. That we would sit and crochet together, or she would have got me back into knitting. She with her wild crazy colours, and her not-always perfect stitches. She with her silly giggle and her elbows moving, me at her side. Me at her side.

We would explore the forest, and find treasures and pieces to put into a dye pot. We would stitch and wrap fabric and be witches together in the sunshine, or under the moonlight. The children would follow her, and jump in the freezing cold creek with her. She would take them to the beach, and make them swallow a mouthful salt water to heal them - and to connect with their past, and their future. She would walk along and gather shells and driftwood and build castles with them. She would be wearing her pinkish sarong and a big straw hat. And because it might be Summer she'd have sandals on. In Winter big leather boots under her dresses.

These are the things she'd be doing. She'd make us smile. She'd remind us that we are beautiful. And to laugh at ourselves. To explore and adventure. And to be humble. She'd listen and then tell us her wisdom. Perhaps she'd toss the I-Ching coins for us. She'd wonder if she should do this or do something else - she'd never be sure where her path lay, but she'd surely help us along our path. 

She'd always be there for us. Always know us. At our side. At our side.


  1. Your Mum sounds amazing Ellie. You've certainly honoured her memory in your description of her. <3 Sam

  2. I don't know what to write.... It doesn't feel like ten years... The memory of her, of her ways, will be forever with me for she touched my life and my heart in such an amazing way. You are in my thoughts and in my heart. Blessings and love xx

  3. It's been two years since I lost my mom and I know exactly how you feel. You never get over it--you just get used to it. Thank you for sharing.

  4. How beautiful to have had the time with her but how sad to have lost her. I can't imagine life without my Mum. Reading this it's so clear her spirit has lived on through you and I'm sure it will through your precious children as well xx

  5. This is so beautifully written and so sad. You have a wonderful way of appreciating her memory and all I can say is that she would be proud of you and the way you have honoured her. Thinking of you.


  6. Thinking of you Ellie. Beautiful words.

  7. Sweetheart, it doesn't sound to me like she has ever really left your side.

  8. you (and she) were lucky to have one another. I hate that grief makes us feel robbed. hugs and more hugs

  9. Hi Ellie, I only found your blog yesterday, and here I am feeling strangely connected. I too lost my mum far too soon (19 years ago, 18 days ago), your words resonated with me in a way that I still find hard to articulate. Kia kaha Sally

  10. She would surely be incredibly proud of you, Ellie.
    Thinking of you this eve.

  11. Memory day is a beautiful way to put it. I think it is so wonderfully (and heartachingly) special how you are honouring you mama, your relationship, your connection with her through your words. xox

  12. thinking about you, my friend


Thank you for your words and thoughts. I do so appreciate each and every visitor to my blog. While I try hard to reply to your comment, it often doesn't quite happen..... know that I'm sending you a thoughtful thanks xxx

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