Loss and Mourning – a universal constant

I am not a grief counsellor. I am not an expert in loss. I have little first hand knowledge of mourning anyone. Why, you might ask, am I writing this piece about loss and mourning? Well, it seems that the whole world has been gripped by the unthinkable. Sudden, untold grief has poured over us as we hear story after story of innocent lives, many of them children, who have had their lives ripped away from them by one or many people who feel they have the right to terrorise and to victimise.

This piece began on December 15^th when an armed man held 17 people hostage in a café in Sydney. This is my city and I love my city, but this is not how I want the world to see my city. Unfortunately, this is now part of the fabric of my city, part of the tragic underbelly of the city I love. In the end, 2 innocent lives were lost. Two beautiful, innocent people are now mourned by an entire city.

Photo courtesy of abc.net.au

A floral tribute has sprawled across Martin Place near to where the siege took place. It is the visual expression of a city stuck by grief. For many it is the only way they can display their sense of loss and dismay. The flowers will eventually give way to a more permanent memorial but the spontaneous, beautiful, peaceful tribute that spreads across the ground is somehow the perfect way for my city to define its overwhelming sense of loss and mourning this Christmas.

Just when we, as a city, were beginning to get our collective heads around what had happened in the heart of our financial district, news began to filter through of a far worse loss. In Nigeria, a militant group known as Boko Haram stormed a village, taking over 200 residents hostage and killing over 30.

This was the same group that kidnapped 200 schoolgirls earlier in the year who are yet to be found and presumed dead. The utter confusion surround events such as this is highlighted by the fluctuating numbers surrounding not only how many are being held, but how many have lost their lives as well. How do you mourn an indeterminate number of people?

Photo courtesy of bbc.com

As the number increases over the days, then subsides, then rises again, what do we do with our grief? Does it turn to frustration? Should we be ashamed of our shifting view of the unfolding tragedy? How do we temper our grief with the need to carry on with our own lives? Is our grief limited by distance or sheer size of the group?

Sometime I feel we mourn the one more so that we mourn the many. It can be hard to know how to grieve for a large group and when we were faced with another massacre, this time in Pakistan, it felt like the underling feeling, while still a terrible sense of loss, was “not again”. It was a tragedy that would grip the hearts and minds of every parent, every educator, every citizen with an ounce of compassion, but maybe due to the distance or the overwhelming magnitude of the loss, the mourning took on a surreal tinge.

A normal school day for military families ended in bloodshed when Taliban fighters entered the school and held over 500 people, the majority being children, hostage. Students and teachers lost their lives in the brutal attack that can only be described as a massacre. Reports came through of children witnessing their classmates being executed, of playing dead to avoid the fate they had seen befall so many others and of families devastated.

Photo courtesy of bbc.com

One wonders how a town recovers from a tragedy such as this. Are they united in their grief or does it tear them apart? I cannot begin to imagine how I would feel if over 100 people from my community were taken from me in such horrific circumstances. Even as I write this, thousands of kilometres away, I am fighting back the tears. I did not know any of those who lost their lives, I have never experienced anything remotely as heartbreaking as that which they are going through right now, yet I feel the burden of their grief and I mourn with them as only I can, by sharing their story.

And now, as I sit here writing, the Australian community is trying to understand yet another senseless tragedy. The loss of 8 children in Cairns, possibly at the hand of the mother of some them, is unfathomable. We not only feel the loss as a country, but we grieve on behalf of the brother that found them. We grieve on behalf on the relatives that must someone come to terms with that fact that not only have they lost 8 young members of the family, but that a member of the family may be responsible.

Photo courtesy of abc.net.au

Coupled with the grief are a sense of helplessness and overwhelming anger. In all cases, we are unsure as to how best to help, how best to show our support for those who are left, how best to grieve. We sometimes feel uneasy in our grief, as if we don’t have a right to grieve. We did not know these people, we did know anyone connected to these people, what right do we have to grieve for these people?

Of course, we have every right. It is an expression of our compassion or sympathy or empathy, or all of the above. It is a stand against the crimes that have been committed, a public outpouring of the grief and anger which demonstrates, in the most raw of manners, that we will not let the tragedy be for nought. Their deaths mean something, not just to those who knew them, but to a city, a country, maybe even the entire planet. They will not only serve the living as a reminder of what terrible atrocities have happened, but of what courage humanity is capable of, what generosity of spirit, what selflessness and what this season means regardless of colour, creed, culture or religion.

If you are grieving, mourning the loss of a loved one, then allow it to happen. There is no end point to grief. It is something that we carry with us always and use always as we traverse this path we call life. The pain may lesson, the day-to-day mundane activities may once again take the foremost place in our mind, but our grief allows us to remember, to show compassion towards those that are suffering, to sympathise with anothers loss and to empathise with those whose loss may be so much greater than our own.

Tonight, I will hug my son a little tighter, give him an extra kiss goodnight, and be thankful that I am not faced with the loss of someone close to me in such tragic circumstances as those we have seen this week. My heart goes out to those affected by recent events and, though my grief pales into insignificance beside theirs, I feel their pain and hope they can find peace in their heart in time.

White Ribbon Day 2014

A year ago, I wrote a piece called White Ribbon Day: A day I wish we didn’t need. It was the 10^th anniversary of the national movement in Australia. I cried writing it, just as I cry every time I re-read it, and just as I will cry writing this one, and will cry re-reading this piece.

You might think that I must have been a victim of domestic violence to be so affected simply writing a blog piece. You might think I must have some personal first hand knowledge to continue to be voice in the dark.

I am not a victim.

I have no first hand knowledge.

I am affected, however. Every single person you know is affected by domestic violence, either directly or indirectly. For those who suffer at the hands of their father, boyfriend, husband, partner or even a total stranger, it is easy to see the affect. For those who know a woman who has been the target of violence, either personally or professionally, the affect can be huge, especially for those working in counselling or health care setting, or who are close friends or relatives of victims.

However, I do not fall into either of those categories, so why am I so affected?

Because the violence against one is the violence against all. We are a society, a community, who must work together to stamp out this insidious act. We are the shopkeepers who see you flinch when someone brushes past you in the aisle. We are the friends who lend you a shoulder on which to cry. We are the boss’ who give you time off to recover from injuries. We are the sports instructors who wait with your children because you’re covering up the latest bruise. We are the teachers who see how broken your family is every time you come in for parent-teacher interviews.

 

There may not be much I can do to stop violence against women on my own; however, many hands make light work. Violence against women does not only affect women. We can do something to stop it if we work together. We cannot judge women who haven’t yet found their way out and we cannot apportion blame to these women for the violence they experience. Women do not ask for it or enjoy it.

There is no stereotypical perpetrator; they can be of any religion, any education level, any sexual orientation, any occupation, any strata of society and any cultural background. Abusers aren’t limited to alcoholics and drug abusers; they can be so-called respectable, contributing members of society.

Likewise, there is no stereotypical woman who suffers from violence, and the number of women who experience some for of violence is not small. In fact, it is large. Scarily large. Depending on the age group, it could be as high as 1 in 3 women. If that statistic alone doesn’t scare you, I don’t know what will.

If the thought of violence against women scares you, take the oath. It doesn't take long. Actually, you can do it right now:

 



If the thought of that not being enough weighs upon you, be proactive: financially support the White Ribbon campaign, volunteer your time or spread the word.

If you are struggling to find a way out of a situation, know someone who is in a violent relationship they can't get out of, or want more information, please check out the following information -

 



Maybe next year, I won't need to write one of these ...

Dear Santa ... from my 34 year old self

It's about this time of year that many people start thinking about Christmas. Little children get excited about the thought of Santa visiting, carols start being heard more often and decorations begin to deck the halls of shopping centres ...

This year, my son decided that he wanted to do a list for Santa. He's at the age where I'm not sure if he still believes in Santa or whether he's just playing along for more presents. Either way, his list is pretty much the standard for a child of 9. It's toys and DVDs and games. It's what he wants. He hasn't developed a sense of social want or need just yet. Don't get me wrong, he's a caring, compassionate child but things like world peace and starving children in Africa don't cross his mind on a day-to-day basis, only when he's confronted with it.

So here's my letter to Santa, with 25 extra years of knowledge and experience behind it ...

Dear Santa,

I don't need anything from you for Christmas this year. I have everything material I could ever want that would fit in that sack of yours. I somehow don't think that the house of my dreams and enough money to keep it running is really something you do.

So instead of material possessions, I'd like to ask for a little Christmas magic, something you can't buy in stores or make in a factory staffed by elves.

I'd like to ask for patience, compassion and understanding.

I'd like to ask for serenity and peace.

I'd like to ask for love.

I'm sure you could package up just a little of each for every man, woman and child on earth, and fill their hearts with joy. If everyone could see how it is for others, if they could extend a hand in assistance instead of throwing a fist in anger, if they could open their hearts and minds to all that is wonderful and beautiful in this world, the world might be a happier, more peaceful place and a greater world for our children to grow up in.

While you're delivering the presents to the girls and boys around the world, don't forget the little bag of magic. It's the most important present of all.

Yours sincerely,

A mother wanting a better future for her child

Missing the war

I don't want to talk about war. I don't want to talk about its hardships or its atrocities. I don't want to talk about the fit, healthy men and women who come home with broken minds and bodies, or the ones who never come home at all.

I do want to talk about my Grandfather. His memory weighs heavily upon me on days such as ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day. I want to talk about him. I want to regale you all with stories of his service to his country. I want to, but I can't.

The memories I have of him are patchy. Calling him for dinner. Showing him pictures of my life. Happy memories but never memories of his life. Never memories of him as a young man, memories painted through stories told with old lips and tired eyes.

I was 9 years old when he died. Two and a half decades later, if I could go back and talk to any of my grandparents, it would be him. It has always been him. I want to fill in the blanks of his life. I want to know the answers to all the questions I was too young to ask.

I think, having read many an account of war from other veterans, I'm not sure I would have been ready to hear his stories when I knew him. I don't know if the reason he never talked about was that it was too upsetting for him or if no-one really asked. Whatever the reason, his stories are now lost to the winds and my heart aches for him and for his story.

Maybe that's why I write. Maybe I don't want my story to be lost. Maybe I'll never go to war, or become famous, or do something of note, but I will have a story to tell. It will be my little story, and it will be a story my grandfather would be proud of.

Lest we forget.

R.I.P. Richard Arrowsmith 1903-1989

Why we don't need to teach acceptance to children ...

Now, before I get lots of angry messages, comments and tweets about how it's important for children to be accepting, I'm going to stop you right there. How about you read all the way through this piece before forming an angry lynch mob?

Children don't need to be taught acceptance. Children are already pretty much accepting of everyone. It's their nature. Children are trusting and accepting of just about everyone they meet. They don't need us to teach them about acceptance or how to be accepting. They get it.

It's us. It's all of us. It's the adults who need to be taught.

My son has Autism. Not very severe. If you met him, you might not realise right away. His best friend has Down Syndrome. They accept each other. No questions asked. They both go to a mainstream school. They are in a mainstream class. They are accepted by their friends at school. They are accepted by other students who are not necessarily in their immediate circle.

These children are perfectly accepting. This isn't to say that they don't notice differences. They do. They comment on them. It's what's kids do. They have no filter. All parents would have had that awkward moment when they wanted the ground to open up because their child has said something like, "Why is that man so fat?" or "Gee, that lady's black!" It's not because they are being mean or discriminatory. It's because they are curious about the world. It is not because they are intolerant.

It's adults that add the layer of intolerance to their curiosity. It's adults that say the man is fat because he's lazy or doesn't eat right or can't be bothered exercising. It's adults that tell their children they don't associate with people of colour.

And by adults, I mean all adults. Parents, other relatives, family friends, parents of other children, the media, teachers, sports instructors, nannies, babysitters, everyone.

Society allows intolerance to continue and to grow. Every single one of us need to step up and stay that enough is enough. Intolerance will not be accepted.

Homophobia ... gone.

Sexism ... gone.

Racism ... gone.

Disability discrimination ... gone.

Ageism ... gone

Imagine what that society would be like. Don't worry, I'm not going to be doing any John Lennon impersonations. Really, think about it, though. Imagine going for a job and not having to hide your sexuality. Imagine men and women getting the same wage. Imagine not having to put up with racial stereotyping. Imagine not having to worry about re-entering the workforce because your age means you won't even get a look in. Imagine your disability being something you have, rather than something your suffer from.

Currently, yes, education is the answer. Teaching people that it's not OK to discriminate against people because of what they are is a great thing. But imagine not having to do that at all because everyone was accepted and accepting. Imagine them being that way because no-one had taught them that different is bad.

Utopia? Perhaps ... but just imagine!

Frustrated and jealous but not unhappy

Sometimes I don't understand people. Well, maybe not sometimes. Maybe all the time.

How is it that you can be perfectly happy with 99% of your life:

- happy with your job

- happy with your hobbies

- happy with your child

- happy with your parents

But there's one thing you're not happy with:

- the lack of a romantic relationship.

It's not for a want of one. It's not for a lack of interest on my part. I just don't seem to be able to attract suitable partners. I've written about this previously. I won't bore you with the details. This isn't about my lack of a partner as such. It's more about other peoples reactions to my voicing my dissatisfaction with my lack of a partner.

There are a few standard reactions:

1. There's someone out there for everyone ...

Really? Even if it's true, will they reveal themselves to me before I am unable to have children? It's all very well saying there's someone for everyone but if I have to wait until I am 50 years old to meet them, how does that help me? How does that fulfil my desire to have a family?

2. Stop looking. They'll show up when you least expect it.

I look. I don't look. It makes no difference. In the end, I have given up looking. I may lament the fact I have no partner, no father to any children I might desire, but I have given up the search. So telling me to stop looking is pointless. As for showing up when I least expect it ... I never expect it so anytime is good, really.

3. You don't need a man to make you happy.

No, I don't NEED a man. I'd like one, though. I am perfectly happy with what I have. This doesn't mean I don't want more. It's like being happy in your job but wanting a promotion - you don't need the promotion to make you happy but you'd like one because it's more money, or a nicer desk, or a little more responsibility. Why can I not be happy with what I have and still desire something more? Is happiness now a finite resource?

4. You have a child.

This one bites the hardest. I hate it with every fibre of my being. I love my son but it's not the same type of love that I would have for a partner. Having a child is wonderful and I would not give it up for the world but having a child does not fill that small void.

I don't know. I guess people are trying to help. I think they don't know what to say and are just saying whatever inane thing comes into their head to try to make my feel better. I don't need someone else's false platitudes to make me feel better, though. I need to vent. I need to yell and scream and vociferate!

I recently had to take a break from social media for a few days due to the overwhelming desire to throw things at the screen. It was frustration and jealousy at play. Frustration at my own inability to maintain any sort of romantic relationship due to poor choices both in the men I subjected myself to and my own failings as a partner (not being self depreciating, just realistic). Jealousy at all the happy smiling people, many of whom I've known since childhood, who have succeeded where I have failed.

Maybe my standards are too high.

Maybe I don't put myself out there enough, or in the right places.

Maybe I'm not meant to be with someone right now.

Whatever the reason, it sucks. It really sucks and I hate it. But it doesn't mean I shouldn't desire that which I don't have and it certainly doesn't mean I'm unhappy.

Blood Brothers: Swans around the World

There’s a pretty great team in the AFL called the Sydney Swans. I may be a little biased in my statement but you have to admit that over the last two decades, they’ve built a little empire for themselves. Being the only team in a city for so long has it’s advantages. None of the success the swans enjoy today was handed to them on a silver platter, however. The Swans have worked hard to develop their team and their brand.

It can’t be any wonder, then, that there are now Swans all around the world. From Vietnam to London to Los Angeles, the Swans name has been adopted by teams near and far. I wondered, as a Sydney Swans supporter and member, about these other teams that bear the name (and sometimes logo) or the team I love.

Image courtesy of the Chicago Swans

Based at the Waveland Fields, Chicago Swans has given many an ex-pat Aussie and local alike the opportunity to kick a footy around in the peculiar manner than is Australian Rules Football. Former Chicago player, Jason, was introduced to the game by friends of friends and he has never looked back. Now living in Wisconsin, he hopes to introduce a whole new crop of recruits to his adopted game by starting a new club in 2015.

Image courtesy of the London Swans

In the UK, The London Swans, based at Shoreditch Park, have drawn players from the local area as well as ex-pat Aussies. One such ex-pat, Henry, indicated many factors which influenced his decision to join the Swans. Geographical proximity was a major factor but he “couldn't wear Collingwood colours” and after that the decision was easy. Growth of the sport is a common theme when talking to both ex-pats and locals. Henry is no different and happily outlined his desire to see an established Junior League.

You can tell Henry is passionate, not only about his club, but AFL generally when he says he has played AFL since the age of seven but “the last three seasons in London have been some of the most enjoyable years of my footy career. Getting involved in the club in an off-field capacity was very rewarding. Thoroughly recommend the experience for anyone travelling to pull on the boots. No skill or previous experience necessary!”

Image courtesy of the South Dublin Swans

A little further north, the South Dublin Swans have made Bushy Park, Terenure, their home. Peter, a player for South Dublin, sees AFL as a growth sport and, with its similarities to Gaelic Football along with the International Rules Competition hotly contested between Australia and Ireland, he might not be far wrong. Another South Dublin Swan, club president Edward, credits his interest in AFL to it being on TV and the introduction in the 1980s of the compromised rules series.

Speaking not long after the AFL World Cup, both Andrew and Peter hope to see continued growth in player numbers and more players vying for selection on the national team, and Andrew hopes the South Dublin Swans are at the forefront of the growth, with Peter adding that support to “get a women's team going” to compliment the boys at South Dublin Swans might be something they looked at in the future.

Image courtesy of the Ottawa Swans

One club that has an established womens team is the Ottawa Swans, who use the inner oval of Rideau Carleton Raceway as a home ground. One of the players, Meaghan, was introduced to AFL in Toronto but it wasn’t until moving to Ottawa that she began her career and future looks bright for women’s football with people like Meaghan involved. When asked about the future of AFL in the Ottawa area, she replied, “I see it growing immensely. Our recruitment has skyrocketed these past 2 years. I think the benefit we have in Ottawa vs Toronto is that we only have the 1 team, whereas Toronto has multiple teams to choose from so recruitment is more spread out, whereas we essentially have a monopoly in Ottawa. We're also specifically trying to target women who have played a lot of sports before (particularly varsity) and are looking for something new.”

The mens teams in Ottawa are also looking to the future. Jay, who was into many different sports growing up, was asked by friends to give AFL a go and, after watching a few You Tube clips, started training with the club, never looking back. He admits that AFL faces an uphill battle but it’s a battle they are winning: “With such a short summer and so many competing sports, footy has plenty of competition but has established a stronghold in Ottawa, Canada. Women's footy has particularly taken-off in the city and will be a strong point of growth.”

Image courtesy of the Ottawa Swans

There is one draw back to being an AFL fan on the other side of the world, as ex-pat Aussie, now Ottawa resident, Matt explains, “I like to watch the footy from Australia online, but have to admit it's hard to find time, and I'm not serious enough to watch between midnight and 3am (except the grand final).” Many ex-pats are resonsible for the introduction and growth of AFL overseas, but Matt goes on to say that there is now good involvement from Canadians, meaning that the sometimes transient ex-pat population isn’t the sole means of recruitment, either for players or support staff.

Image courtesy of the Årsta Swans

You might not think that Stockholm, Sweden, would be even on the radar as far as AFL was concerned but the Årsta swans, situated at the J.C.G in Skarpnäck, are hoping that the slowly increasing interest in the sport will eventually lead to it becoming more mainstream, though it is still so small that it is flying under the radar of local news and the Swedish sport federation. Wilhelm, a player for Årsta, speaks of brotherhood, more than rivalry, between the five teams currently in the Stockholm area. “We have practices together and act as refs for each others games,” Wilhelm says.

Image courtesy of the Vietnam Swans

The story of the Vietnam Swans is one of hope. Started in 1998, it lasted two games under the Hanoi Hawks banner, before being resurrected in 2003 as the Hanoi Swans. In 2007, the team went national and became the Vietnam Swans. This not only brought in new players but meant that the team has become a valued member of the AFL Asia community. The Vietnam Swans have also succeeded where many other, more established clubs around the world, have fallen short: they have brought Auskick to the kids.

The Australian Auskick program is hugely successful at home, but it is rare to find Auskick or any sort of Junior AFL program outside Australia. While some of the American teams do run Auskick programs, they are few and far between, making it difficult for juniors to get match practice. It is a lament of many that there isn’t more done to publicise AFL around the world. Speak with Rob, who started following AFL in the mid-80s as a college student in America and now lives in LA, and you start to understand how difficult it is for those overseas Swans fans to access AFL on a regular basis. When asked how the AFL could be more supportive of the code internationally, Rob had the following to say:

This could be a book, but I’ll keep it to my top two ideas. First, establish easy TV access to the matches and publicize them. Free Internet streaming (particularly after the match is played), on-demand viewing, anything to make it easier for the curious American fan or the expat Aussie to follow. Secondly, do more in the US! Have an annual exhibition here, bring in training camps, involve inner-city kids, do some outreach. I mean, we have kids playing cricket in our ghettos here. Cricket! If there were any awareness of the sport here, AFL could start a development program and draw some attention.

 

For fans like Rob, watching a Sydney Swans game live at the SCG might be a once if a lifetime opportunity but there beckons the opportunity for the AFL to put on more exhibition and for AFL clubs to provide some sort of “international membership” so that ex-pats and local converts alike can show their support for the club they love, even if it is from afar. Social media has made it easier for international fans to connect with other AFL fans and the clubs they support, yet there is still a call for local hot spots, where fans can meet and watch games together.

Image courtesy of the Sydney Swans

The “Bloods” spirit is truly a global phenomena. It’s fans like Rob getting up in the middle of the night to watch the Swans win a Grand Final. It’s players like Wilhelm who give so much back to the sport. Its teams like the Vietnam Swans who just won’t give up. And while the individual players in the Swans teams around the world may not necessarily support the Sydney Swans, the culture of teamwork and mateship pervades all of these teams. They share a common desire for the sport to grow … nay, thrive! Whether they play games if and when they can, or every weekend, Swans around the world share the love of the game, they passion for the sport and a genuine fondness for that oddly shaped ball and those four big sticks.

Årsta Swans

Website: www.arstaswans.se
Facebook: www.facebook.com/thearstaswans
Twitter: @arstaswans
Email: contact@arstaswans.se

Chicago Swans

Website: www.chicagofooty.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/chicagofooty
Twitter: @chicagofooty
Email: info@chicagofooty.com

Ottawa Swans

Website: www.ottawaswans.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/ottawaswans
Twitter: @OttawaSwans
Email: swanspresident@gmail.com

London Swans

Website: www.londonswans.co.uk
Facebook: www.facebook.com/londonswans
Twitter: @londonswans
Email: recruitment@londonswans.co.uk

South Dublin Swans

Website: www.southdublinswans.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/groups/6803372036
Twitter: @southdubswans
Email: info@southdublinswans.com

Vietnam Swans

Website: www.vietnamswans.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/TheVietnamSwans
Twitter: @vietnamswans
Email: nationalpres@vietnamswans.com

I’d like to thank the various clubs and their members for their time in answering my questions. Without them, this would have been a very short piece. If you are a member of an international Swans team that I haven’t mentioned here, or a local Australian team affiliated with the Sydney Swans, feel free to tell us about your experiences and leave contact details for your club in the comments section below.

Is this what we are teaching our children?

I recently posted the following on my Facebook page:

In the end, we must strive for our capacity to love to be the thing for which we are remembered, not our capacity to hate and to hurt.

The very next day I was confronted by the news of a shocking image that was posted to twitter. The picture was that of a young boy holding the head of a decapitated soldier.

Is this what we are teaching our children?

Are we allowing them to continue to hate and despise for the simple reason that this is what we have always done? At what point do we say enough is enough? If we wish for future generations to live in peace then we must take the first step. Not just individually but collectively. Every mother, every father, every citizen must make a conscious decision to not allow our children to grow up with hate in their heart.

We need to pass on uplifting ideals, such as tolerance and acceptance. We need to produce future leaders who have sympathy, empathy and compassion. We need to create a world that is free from the hostility, greed and disrespect that is so pervasive in society right now. So I return my thoughts to those I opened with: Do I show my son my capacity for love or do I teach him that hate is normal and to hurt others is ok?

I would like to think that it is the former, rather than the latter. I hope that my son, who is not much older than the boy which was pictured in the image which disturbed me so greatly, grows up to be a well-rounded, generous, caring citizen of the world. Still, my heart weeps for the children of fathers who proudly display such pictures and who fill their childhood with an unbridled hate which I cannot behin to fathom.

I don't want to shed another tear for another child consumed by their parents hate and I don't want my child to shed a tear for another child in a generations time.

Can someone explain to me why I must? Or why my child must?

Because I do not understand at all.

Oh, Captain. My Captain.

Death comes to us all. Some go quickly. Some linger. Some step, unknowing, into the void. And some, for whatever reason, take it upon themselves to decide the method and the timing.

I almost wasn't going to write this. When i woke to the news this morning that one of the greatest actors I had ever had the pleasure of viewing had dies, apparently by his own hand, I vowed that I would not be just another blogger writing about another celebrity death. Yet here I am. Writing.

It's nearly the end of the day as I write this. I've spent most of the day thinking about my own experiences with depression, and the experiences of my friends. I have battle this demon for a long time. Despite the general perception, suicide is not the easy way out. If it were, I wouldn't be here.

Today I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am not depressed. I am most definitely sad, but I am not depressed. This is not to say I am cured. I cannot give assurances for tomorrow, next week, next month or next year. I'm not sure I will ever be cured. To use a medical phrase: Today, I am asymptomatic.

My sadness is, naturally, coloured by my experiences. It stems from an understanding that there, but for the grace of God, go I. And by God, I mean chance or fate or destiny or whatever turn of phrase you choose to employ. My sadness is filled with a fans adoration, a writers admiration and a depressives anticipation of what may, one day, be my own undoing.

I know who would know real loss. His family. His friends. Their loss I cannot know. Their grief I cannot share. This does not make the tears I shed, even as I write this, any less real but they are tears of sadness, not tears of love lost too soon.

Robins battles with alcohol and drugs have been well reported. His battle with depression equally so. The lifelong battle faced by Robin and millions of others worldwide shows one simple fact about depression: It does not discriminate. Age, wealth, location, social standing, friends and family mean little when it comes to depression. You may look at someone and think, 'what have they got to be depressed about, they have everything.' It's never about what you have. It's about how you feel. There lies the irony: Material possessions are immaterial when it comes to mental health.

Being alone isn't so bad. It can be quite nice to be alone with your thoughts. Being lonely is a completely different thing altogether. You can be surrounded by people and still feel totally isolated. Trying to reach someone on the outside can be painful and defeating, but trying to reach someone on the inside of their own mind can be equally terrifying. This doesn't mean you shouldn't try. Each and every day you should try.

Not just big ideas or carefully-chosen words. Every idea has power, no matter how small. Every word has power, no matter how trivial. Tell your partner you love them for no other reason that it's true. Send those birthday wishes to the friend you haven't seen in years. Take those clothes that no longer fit to the op shop. Volunteer an hour of your time to a charity. Just one hour. Pick any charity. And don't be afraid to be exactly who you're meant to be.

Whether it's making a fool out of yourself in front of your kids, helping a friend fulfil their crazy dream, being unique and off the wall and special and crazy and deadly serious and hilarious and a daredevil - keep your spark. Fan it occasionally. Make sure it never goes out.

Robin once said, "I believe in destiny. There must be a reason I am as I am. There must be." I wonder if he every discovered the reason. I wonder how many of us ever do. I think, by nature, we are far more adept at seeing the purpose in other people than we are in seeing it in ourselves.

It's times like this that I wish heaven existed so I could pray for Robin to read this over my shoulder. Not because it's particularly well written or because it speaks to people - neither of these things matter - and not because it would bring him back - it wouldn't. I would want him to read this because for me, the reason he was as he was is crystal clear.

Through all the many laughs, the extraordinary speeches, the tearful goodbyes; through the ups and downs and twists and turns; through the characters we've loved, the stand up routines we've craved and the humanity you've shown: Through all of this the reason shines through - to show me that it's ok to be me.

Rest in peace, my captain. May your legacy be more than you ever dreamed it could be.

If you, or someone you know is suffering from depression or any other mental health issues, please seek help from one of the institutions listed below, or in an emergency call 000.

Beyond Blue

www.beyondblue.org.au

1300 22 4636

Lifeline

www.lifeline.org.au

13 11 14

Kids Help Line

www.kidshelp.com.au

1800 55 1800

Please note: the above relate to Australia organisations, for information on local help centres in your area please contact your GP or go to the World Federation for Mental Health website (www.wfmh.com/links/external-contacts/international-organizations).

A little dose of good news

This morning I woke, as every other morning, to the news of another tragedy that has devastated someones world. It broke my heart to hear of so many innocent lives, full of such promise and potential, cut short by the actions of a small group of war-mongers. I sat, with a tear in my eye, trawling through social media. Each post I saw spoke my own thoughts. They all reflected the anguish, the devastation, the grief and the overwhelming unjustness of it all.

All day, I knew that I would have to write something today. I did not know what I would write. I did not know what form it would take. When the World Trade Centre was attacked, I wrote poetry. I may yet follow that path later, but I could not form the semblance of anything like poetry today.

It was not until a friend lamented the plight of the human race that the idea of what I needed to write came to me. It did not leap at me as some thoughts have done. If crept slowly upon me, like a rising tide, until I could not help but be swept up in the notion.

That glimmer, that ray of hope in midst of almost overpowering darkness, was a small story that made me smile. It made me smile so much my heart ached with the beauty of it. My heart ached so much I cried at the simplicity of it.


Image from http://brazil-football.com

Prior to the recent Football World Cup held in Brazil, German midfielder Mesut Özi sponsored 11 surgeries for children suffering in the underfunded Brazilian health care system. That, in itself, is an amazing act of charity. From someone not even out of their 20s it is an awesome and worthwhile contribution he has made to the lives of those children and their families. Özi wasn't done, though. At the conclusion of the tournament, following his teams victory, he went on to donate a significant portion of his personal winnings to sponsor surgeries for 12 more children.

If you hadn't heard this story before now, don't feel bad. I hadn't either until I went searching for a feel good story and had to wade through page and pages and pages of depressing, gut wrenching, soul destroying news. The fact that this story wasn't headline news is sad, and doesn't surprise me, but maybe we can change how we experience the news that is delivered to us. You're reading this via perhaps the most powerful information dissemination resource known to mankind.

People aren't, on the whole, bad. They are born as a blank slate and their experience of the world shapes them into the adult they become. The fact that TV networks, newspapers, radio stations and the internet persist in filling every waking minute with stories of devastation and violence says just as much about us as it does about the news outlets.

We have the capacity for so much compassion and generosity, not just financial but of spirit, that those feel good stories should be the majority of the news, not a column filler or that last piece after the weather report. If we considered the human race to be a race for each other instead of against each other, the world would be a much safer, happy and fulfilled place to not only exist but to thrive.

Anzac Day 2014

I have never once considered, in all seriousness, joining any of the armed services. The thought of going to war terrifies me. I'm not ashamed to admit that. It's precisely this feeling that makes Anzac Day so momentous to me. The idea that someone I have never me, nor am I likely to meet, feels strongly enough about this country and its citizens that they would put their own life on the line is mind-blowing to me.

I have known people who have served or still serve. Friends, family, former boyfriends. It's not an easy life, for them or for their families, but it's one that people sign up for, not because they have to but because they want to. It may not be volunteering, in the strictest sense of the word. It is a job, after all, but a job that is far bigger and more important than the monetary recompense they receive for doing it.

Yesterday, I had to read The Ode, which is taken from "For the Fallen", a poem by the English poet and writer Laurence Binyon. It is a mere four lines long. As a writer, I try to be eloquent and evoke emotion when and where I can, yet reading those four lines almost had my in tears. Even the process of writing about it brings a tear to my eye, and i haven't even known anyone who was lost in battle. If i had, i would be an absolute wreck.

Today, I was also in tears. Watching the Anzac Day service from Gallipoli made me wish that i had more time to ask my Grandfather about him time in service. I was 9 years old when he died and it didn't occur to me as a child to ask. As a teenager, i was told that he didn't talk about it. I wish I'd had the opportunity to ask.

I can't imagine how hard it must be for vets to talk about what they went through. What they saw and who they lost must weigh heavily upon them. I'm not sure that talking about it or writing their memories or thoughts down would ever convey the extent of the emotions involved but for those of us who have never known the ravages of war first hand, it's the closest we will ever come to knowing and understanding.

So, to my grandfather specifically and all other vets, regardless of what arena your fought in or how long you served, not matter what your role or what reason you enlisted, be proud of your service and never let the memories die with you because your stories are our links with your past and your past shapes our future in ways that you will never know.

Thank you for your service. Thank you for your energy. Thank you for your determination. And thank you for your sacrifice. But mostly, thank you for being our loved ones.

Lest we forget.