Strength

Today was a day of mixed emotions.

Birth. Life. Coffee. Death. All in the same day.

Coffee with a valued friend in a moment of need.

Standing in the waiting room of an intensive care unit holding my 3 month old niece who was lighter and smaller than my own baby when she was born.

I was so unaccustomed to her size as to question whether I ever had actually nursed my own child or had in fact ever held a baby before. It just seemed alien to me to hold such a small baby and yet so natural to be rocking and humming some non-descript song to her.

Last night I’d sat with my extended family in the same waiting room when a guy walked in wearing an Aboriginal flag patch on his jeans. It brightened our glomy outlook. On asking he confirmed he was white but said “Gotta pay respects to Aboriginal land; always was, always will be.”

Such gestures of solidarity in ordinary everyday life are so infrequent.

Sean’s mother was struggling after an operation and she was tired. It was her last wish that she be able to enjoy some fresh air with her family and to commune with nature before her time was up, but the medical powers that be weren’t so obliging, indicating it just wasn’t possible. He wished us strength in our difficult times as did we for his and we said our goodnights.

As I rocked my niece in my arms this morning I shed tears for myself, my family and Sean and his family. Everyone was there for the same purpose. Everyone was losing someone – some sooner than others – but all utterly bewildered and taking comfort in the presence of others, freely crying and embracing each other and all going through the same shit.

Needing a break I wandered across the road to the Fitzroy Gardens and settled under the shade of an old oak tree.

I realised it’s been years since I’d done that. It’s been years since I took a moment to sit and contemplate nature. To rest my back against the sturdy trunk of a magnificent living creature larger and greater than my insignificant self. I closed my eyes and let its energy course through my body.  And for the first time in ages I felt peaceful.

After some time I opened my eyes to see Sean with his mother in her wheelchair and her oxygen tank with her family descending upon the gardens.  They opened a bottle of champagne and shared the most precious of moments in a way that I could only hope my family can share such a moment when that time comes for us.

Strength be with you and us all.