Writings on grief

My list of writings on grief - this is ongoing. (Sorry the fonts are all over the place).

Caroline Jones - Through a Glass Darkly
Joan Didion -“Grief is different. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.”

The Year of Magical Thinking, Blue Nights.

 Julian Barnes - Levels of Life
Tracy Grimshaw - April Woman's Weekly

"Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.

Why did I write it down? In order to remember, of course, but exactly what was it I wanted to remember? How much of it actually happened? Did any of it?"

-Joan Didion, in the essay “On Keeping a Notebook” published in Slouching Toward Bethlehem.

Just Kids - Patti Smith

Wild - Cheryl Strayed

This Party's Got to Stop - Rupert Thomson

Grief- through a wall or a door

Where to now?

I am sitting at the computer station contemplating the upheavals of Australian politics.
It has been a disturbing time.
There has been precious little unity.
I feel for Julia Gillard who gave her all.
She lived and led through a tremendous period of personal grief, a minority government and great advances in social justice for Australia.
Where to now?

Satellite Boy - A film about family, country and belonging.

A film about family, country and belonging.

Discovered this movie today. Was feeling a bit tired and foggy, but decided to travel in and pay $10 for parking(!) 

But it was all worth it. A vivid portrayal of life in the far north Kimberley area in a mining area. The juxtaposition of life more or less in the wild to the luxury of our western Australian homes was quite confronting. The young runaway boys are so well played too. Definitely not as confronting as Samson and Delilah, but still unflinching. 

David Gulpilil is mystical and humble in his role as the elder statesman. 

Family life is a struggle and ripe with conflict and bitter tears are shed. There is no perfect family way of life and this movie shows to go where the heart is.

Not ready for the Scrap heap yet.

I object to the title of senior for over 50’s.


Surely I can’t be a responsible adult already?

But the list of top 20 signs of ageing was achingly funny and true.

As I don’t have the article in front of me right now, I am not even sure it was top 20 signs or top 50?

But anyway, I digress. (It’s not a memory issue, is it?)

I believe in celebrating the passing years as a mark of commitment.

I admit to being over 50 and slowly wearing out physically.

The mind wearier and inpatient with tedious new techno hassles.

But I am sending out a war cry: We are not ready for the scrap heap yet!

Thank you for the personal account of a nurse’s experience with the coroner’s court.

Thank you for the personal account of a nurse’s experience with the coroner’s court.


June 2013 edition of In Touch.

I appreciate the candour in this account. From personal experience I can relate to many of the nurses’ anxieties, after being summoned to the coroner’s court long after the original event.

My advice is to get maximum support from all avenues. Both professionally and personally.

I found the assistance of the ANMF to be invaluable in this process. I was able to get legal advice, with a minimum of angst, which assisted me greatly in peace of mind. I also had the support of my manager, SA Health solicitors and other supporters.

As a life- long union member in my nursing career, it has never occurred to me to not have membership. The support both professionally and industrially has been outstanding. The team works so well for its members.

Thanks again to you all.

Mental illness unlike many other diseases will change the way people see the world and how the world sees you.

Mental illness can be seen as ammunition (legal fight and nine day court case), a stain (the signs were there in her childhood), a failure (resignation from political career) and bewildering weakness (preoccupation with exercise, OCD tendencies).


All these perceptions Mary Jo Fisher illuminated and described in her struggle - Weekend Australian expose (June 15th).

It is much easier to hide a physical ailment, or have it validated.

But your emotions really help shape your body, mind and spirit.

Mental illness unlike many other diseases will change the way people see the world and how the world sees you.

Openness is the key to understanding for our homes, workplaces and everywhere in between.

The media did have a field day in Adelaide with Mary Jo Fisher. She has been brave to tell her story.

But one hopes she has the measure of humility and understanding for the shop assistants and staff who were on duty doing their job. That is part of the healing.

The one size fits all education is a liability.

The school system in remote Australia does not seem to adapt to the conditions. I.e. climate, isolation and culture.


Hence the huge absenteeism and low literacy levels.

I would hope there is more creative learning and adaption to the conditions. Instead of a blanket national approach. The one size fits all education is a liability.

Thanks to Mike Bowden for the practical example.

Eureka – 17th of June, 2013.

Life after Turner

There was so much activity and programs with the Turner exhibition.


As front of house I loved the meeting and greeting and hearing how people connected with the exhibition.

The programs and kids area were really well received. People loved the concerts and workshops.

I attended a few of the talks, the microphones really help with a big group. Some of the curators are really knowledgeable, but public speaking is not their forte.

All the support team were excellent for the volunteers. This really assists to make the jobs work well. I also love working with all the different volunteers.

In regards to ticket sales-:

The atrium computers worked really well, but there was only two credit machines to three computers, which meant some shuffling. The credit machine would also run out of gas at inopportune moments if it hadn’t been charged enough.

In the vestibule the ipads were not as good. They also ran down on battery and had to be plugged in, the cord for this is awkward. And if it is plugged into charge the keyboard doesn’t respond.

I would hope if another big exhibition was held, the gallery could invest in a stand alone computer system in this area. As other galleries have a full complement of computers for ticket sales.

I am now enjoying the post Turner gallery experience. It seems the gallery is a big wet weather place to go. Plus on Saturday the costume guild gathered to enjoy the gallery space and entertain many of the public with their period costumes. Always something to engage with at the gallery.

Christopher Hitchen's Mortality - Remember, you too are mortal.

A slim little volume on mortality.


The life and learning of a man diagnosed with a terminal illness.

Only this man has quite a profile as a prominent writer, atheist and raconteur.

Reminds me of Julian Barnes little volume on grief.

A memoir of what occurs and what is said, what works and what doesn’t.

What really helps in these situations?

It seems there are no real answers.

We want answers – good news, positive outcomes, but reality doesn’t disclose this for us.

Caught in tragic circumstance, with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

Painted into a corner by one’s own pronouncements.

Both books were excellent in their own personal analysis.

But I notice some resistance and also a search for what lies beyond their usual repertoire of what makes sense.

Does life always make sense?

The intellect cannot save someone from death, grief and pain. But it is the articulation of it that I admire.

Modern day maladies

Modern day maladies


Nikki Gemmell laments the perils of modern life.

But these are after all first world problems. We are not scrounging for food and water, shelter and safety. Still the anxiety builds and builds in the modern world. We seem to be absorbing the economic balance sheet with daily updates on our progress. It all wears a bit thin.

So what if the parking places seem to be getting narrower.

The phone/internet plans more complicated.

There are more ways to communicate, but it is harder to see someone face to face, in the flesh.

But I do love that we can all moan together!

The Higher Order

Life, Death, Love, Hope


The journey from being pulled back from the brink made fascinating reading. June 8th – great long weekend reading.

Was impressed how it was told through the different eyes of those involved.

Interesting that empathy finds its place among the higher order of human activity. Which was referenced in our faith community message the following day.

Having just finished reading the late in life musing by Anne Deveson on ‘waging peace’.

I wonder if so many wars would be inflicted on its people if empathy was at the top of the list of priorities?

Grief Work

I flicked through the Australian Magazine in my favourite cafe, Three monkey's in Willlunga.

(Well it is one of them). May 25th.

I was distracted by my 'to do' list but couldn't stop reading the article on the bereaved wife who lost her husband in the awning accident.

Tragedy came out of nowhere.

One news item of many.

Which I had not heard about previously, perhaps it was hidden in all the Christmas festivities?

But the aftermath lives long.

Grief does not discriminate, there is no immunity.

There is no right way to deal with it.

But I do admire people who are able to articulate their struggle.

Peace be with you anyway - a response

I can relate to the aversion of dancing, it's just too hard to be coordinated enough to look uncoordinated.

But passing of the peace is one of my favourite parts of worship.

I ventured into a cahtolic mass one weekday, prior to an appearance at the coroner's court.

I have attended this church in the past, for a quiet place in the middle of Adelaide.

But this time happened to coincide with mass.

I studiously applied myself, as I don't come from this tradition.

Then came a time when we could greet each other.

Our eyes met, their was a kinship.

It did indeed feel peaceful.

I felt renewed, enough to go on with what the day held.

Which was far from my ideal.

My faith community in our local town also connects in this way.

We call it a community walkabout.

I find it is a great way to connect.

Especially with those who for whatever reason belt off straight after church.

Sometimes I just say 'peace' or 'how are you going'.

To be worshiping together means more than just gathering together in a building.

It is finding that peace in each other that inspires.

Peace

Learn to love it all

Re: Q & A with Toby Green. In Body and Soul - June 9th.

The advice given that no one wants to hear about anyone elses children is a bit rich.

It takes a village to raise a child.

Whether it is yours or anyone else's.

It is about community, shared experience and the moments in life that matter.

To void children from the landscape is not possible!

If a person is suffering grief for whatever reason, speak up.

Let the person or person know you are feeling vulnerable.

But there is no cencorship on the taperstry of life.

Yes, some peoples recollections are mine numbing.

Especially if you have heard them again and again.

But perhaps move away from that particular scenario.

There is a whole world of loving and laughter in the life of a family, children and what makes the whole crazy thing go around.

Learn to love it all.

Burial Rights is a novel to immerse yourself in.

Burial Rights is a novel to immerse yourself in.


The writing is lyrical ‘Autumn arrives like a gasp’. The descriptions so clever they capture the claustrophobia and atmosphere of the place and people from another time.

I found myself at the hearth, sipping hot milk, with the peat on the fire, in a very harsh winter.

The scene is set in the world of northern Iceland in 1830.

If you had told me I would find this a fascinating place to visit before this I would have been very surprised. The story centres on Agnes, a 34 year old servant, who seems to have floated through households without ever finding a place to call home. There is a sense of abandonment from her biological parents and brother and later her choice of partner. This follows on to her fate at the hands of the district commissioner who seals the order of execution. When I have told people this is a story about capital punishment they take a step back.

But it is more about isolation, in place and spirit.

The location appears godforsaken, even in the Icelandic community.

The main character is isolated from family, friends and faith.

There is no easy tie up, but no further details, read it for yourself.

My Adelaide & Festival Centre rewind.

As a young, wandering traveller I first visited Adelaide and the festival centre in 1981 on an Aussie pass. Which was a bus pass that let you have unlimited bus travel around Australia, which I used with abandon.

I recall going on a guided tour of the centre and a big craft market in the open air. The glossy brochure has long been lost.

I wasn’t to know at the time, but I made my way back to Adelaide from Melbourne to live.

Now I am a veteran audience member of the festival centre. In fact I am a bit of a venue snob. If it is not on at the festival centre I am reluctant to go near other venues i.e. the Ent Cent/concrete swimming pool.

I have introduced my kids to Something on Saturday craft extravaganzas, moving on up to the State Theatre productions. I too fell in love with the Boy from Oz and will always remember Todd McKenney descending to the stage on that big banana swing. It was a 40 plus degree day in the shade outside, but heaven in the theatre. Todd describing us as ‘so wistful’. More likely eternally grateful for the respite from the gruelling Adelaide summer, and a bit of Peter Allen whimsy and razzle dazzle.

I also loved the behind the scenes voyeur like production of “The Kreutzer Sonata”. Triumph in the face of adversity. Even the rehearsal space is utilized.

There are many other moments to remember. But a highlight was what became a sort of pilgrimage, to the Peter Coombe Christmas concerts. You haven’t lived until you have seen Peter & Co., singing their hearts out for entire families with glorious Aussie Christmas songs. We of course were in the front rows catching balloons.

The festival precincts will no doubt metamorphosise, but the centre has a class and design that is functional and clever. It has the most perfect site for Adelaide nestled by the river and rotunda. It is what I love about Adelaide and has made art that is accessible for everyone.

The gallery beckons.
I am scheduling in my volunteer slot at the gallery again.
That means allowing enough time for traffic and parking.
I insist on getting a free park!
So I leave the market and move on up South Road in full pelt rain.
It is so heavy in Morphett Vale I can hardly see through the windshield.
Usually I watch the visage of South Road on auto.
The man dressed up as a cow outside an electrical store, flipping himself about.
The underpass of the tram stop and over to the far left to turn right onto Anzac Highway.

I cruise up past roadworks and the ETSA building.
I jostle for the right lane to be in along West Terrace.

North Terrace can go at snails pace.
Especially during mad March, but May has been fine.
I go for my usual park behind the rowing lots, which lately hasn't been there.
So further up the road I go and walk along the river back to the footbridge.
I am usually needing a loo by now, but none around until I get to the gallery.
Also desperate for a coffee.
The gallery time flies by and I walk out by the fish gates or auditorium back towards the river.
Every Saturday there are many brides on show.
Last time there were four in close proximity to the footbridge.
It is a prized photo spot and I usually congratulate the bride on her dress/flowers.
It is a special spot of many in Adelaide.
I never get tired of looking across the river towards Adelaide.
My city that feels so intimate and 'unshowy'.
That makes me feel at home.