My dad was awesome. He was kind, compassionate, energetic, funny, generous, gentle, inspiring, nurturing, patient, talented and so much more. Gordon Lindsay Yemm arrived on 23 March 1933 to Olive and Leonard Yemm – and he came bundled with his other half, Norman.
I have been on this earth for 20,062 days. Today is the first day I draw breath without my father. Despite knowing this day was not only inevitable but imminent, I’m still consumed with grief. There’s no easy way to farewell the man that gave me life. The first man I ever loved and the one who set the bar so high for future love.
I know his story intimately well. September 17 1968. I’m just two and a half when Christian is born at Calvary Hospital. Five weeks later he’s gone. A perfectly healthy baby boy, dying in his sleep. Sudden infant death syndrome the doctors said. A syndrome. It’s not how my parents describe it.
This morning I woke to the news one of our founding members, mother to the firstborn of the August 1996 babies (arriving early, in June 1996) passed away suddenly and unexpectedly.
You held me, in the palm of your hands,
When I was young, red-faced and new.
You held my hand, as up I grew,
Then held me in your heart.
From you I learned a love of words,
Of all things wild and all things free.
To nurture all the gifts we have,
Upon this earth called home.
Four score and more your heart once beat,
As life was lived and loved and lost.
So small and dark, and fair and stark,
Daughter, wife and mother.
No matter angst, or bitterness,
Forgiveness is a family trait.
I loved you all the days we had.
And cared as roles reversed.
I hold you, in the palm of my hands,
Your substance, strength, reduced to ash,
No wicked wit, no wise words left,
Now you are here no more.
On 19 October – 23 days before peace treaties were signed to end the first world war – Charles and Eva McDougall welcomed June Margaret into the world. A world where electricity and cars were yet to become mainstream and Tasmanian Tigers were still living and breathing.
randmother was called Peace as a child. She was the youngest of three girls – the formidable McDougall girls. Her closest sister was born in 1914 and grandma in 1918 – war and peace. That wasn’t her real name though – her real name was June.
Today is the anniversary of my mother’s death. It is seven years since she passed away after a ten-year battle with breast cancer. Every death anniversary – and I’ve collected a few dead people now – leaves me feeling very melancholy and reflective.
Maurice is an old man – he will soon turn 89. He has the slow stooped walk of the very old. His […]
My little sister passed away in July 2012 after a 29 year battle with mental health issues. She was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder as a young woman and experienced multiple suicide attempts over the years. She developed problem drinking behaviours at age 26 and died age 40 from alcohol related liver failure. She was largely criticised and ostracised by the wider community for “failing” to make the necessary changes to fit in, and to care for herself.
