The group that made me find more and more things to teach, beyond my organised curriculum by months and months, who sewed as much and as good as any expert, who were lovely and darling and whom I had to lie and bluff into thinking I could teach them anything they didn't know... have all survived the fires! There are a few other people we don't know about yet, but this group is very dear to my heart (as were all of my gals) and I am RELIEVED. Thanks Anne! Big hugs to you all.
Condolences to all who have been effected. Friends of friends and those whose welfare I don't know. The horror of it all. I've been on edge all week, with smoke and helicopters everywhere, and the radio talks about places nearby day in and out.
Yesterday I bundled up Mum's clothes to send out to Wittlesea. I cried most of the day. I kept a lot to make things out of even though I have nowhere to put them.
But you could still see her in them and I've avoided looking in the cupboards. Dad was sad too. He's an old fireman. He's been very influential and innovative in the field and it was terribly emotional for him to not be able to help. And emotional to pack Mum's stuff up. And emotional to have her gone, still.
This was a good way for Dad to give the clothes away. The only way for it to feel good at all. He said that, after the Ash Wednesday fires, people got tons of crappy clothes to choose from. He said, Mum's stuff is class. And there is a bit of dressy stuff (with funerals coming up). Trouble is, she was so tiny in the end...
On top of it all, it was 6 months since Mum died (on Friday).
One feels resentful of the time passing. Of course you really want them to be alive, but peversely, you want to be still near to the death, at least, to feel the pain more acutely. To remember the feel of them. You don't want it to fade in the slightest.
I do remember your feel Mumma. So sweet and lovely.