Memories of my brother

loss, Memories of my brother

Grief Seeds

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And so, here we are again. You’d think, nearly two decades later, we’d know how to do this. This day. November 13. Outside my bedroom window the inner-city Sydney traffic huffs and sighs, rumbling toward afternoon’s end, and evening’s slow descent. Downstairs, our angel-friend Rocel clatters in the kitchen, helping us juggle this crazy end of

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Faith, Memories of my brother

You have your Brother’s eyes

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I didn’t intend to go to the meeting.  These days Dr M does most of these things alone, reporting back to me later in stolen snatches, in precious together-breaths caught above or between the perennial kid noise of our household. But my parents were over helping, and the thought of going out together —anywhere—was appealing. On

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Memories of my brother, thankfulness

Sky song for my parents


It’s 5:30pm, an overcast September evening in early Spring, and I’ve escaped the holiday house we are staying in with our three kids for a moment to take a short walk. There’s music playing through my headphones, because, in my opinion, sunset and surf always look at their best accompanied by music, especially if its slow, and raw,

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Faith, loss, Memories of my brother

The News at the Door


Whenever I hear statistics of casualties in the plural —and there is no lack of them lately (or ever) in media coverage—I can’t help but think in the singular. Tonight, yesterday, tomorrow, some family finds out that the floor has just dropped out of their domestic world. It’s easy to distance tragedy as other, as ‘in the headlines,’

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