harley, my cavoodle

this guy is the love of our lives


he’s 5 1/2 years old


he loves sticks, licks and tricks


he’s a little crazy and a lot adventurous

//all photos my own//

Advertisements

about life

Dear Diary,

This week has been exceptionally difficult.

Jay’s Dad took a turn for the worst. We thought death would take him, consumed by cancer.

Jay flew up to be by his bedside on Monday morning. After missing the day’s only flight to Hervey Bay he managed to catch one to Maroochydore, hire a car and drive the rest of the way. He arrived late afternoon tired, with man-flu and in time to start planning his father’s funeral with his sister; things were looking very grim and the doctors were not optimistic.

After five days of hour by hour highs (gaining consciousness, sitting up, talking) and lows (crashing, failing vital organs, unconsciousness) his kidneys are gaining functionality and his infections are clearing up and best of all he’s out of bed. Today he got discharged from hospital (huzzah!). The doctor’s have said he’ll be with us for another 3-6 months.That’s 262,974 more minutes. Not enough time to see us fall pregnant or have a baby or buy a house or congratulate Jay when he graduates from uni or see Jay turn 40, watch his 6 grandkids grow up or celebrate his own 74th birthday.

Everyone knows death is inevitable. A natural part of the cycle of life. But that knowledge never makes it any easier. Someone you love is there. And then they’re not. 

I think I have stayed strong for Jay on the end of the phone; listening, soothing, missing, giving him tidbits of my & Harley’s day to breakup the hurt. I am sad also. My heart feels weighed down and heavy with worry and sorrowful expectation of what is to come. The man I love most in the world is going to lose the man he loves most in the world. 

How can that be anything but the shittiest thing life spews at you?

IMG_20130724_220029

I posted that earlier in the week on my Instagram

Yesterday, my brother, my only sibling, checked into rehab. Mum & Col drove him there after looking after him for the past week; basically drinking himself to death and almost achieving it after a fall from 11 stories resulting in broken ribs, internal bleeding, fractured spine & skull. Mum said he barely weighed 60kgs when she picked him up from the airport, my 6.2ft baby brother.

After 10 years of substance abuse & chronic alcoholism he will finally be getting the help he needs. I can’t even fully articulate the levity of my heartbreak and grief for him. I am optimistic and hopeful, yet not totally convinced that this will be the cure. I have no doubt that rehab works but I don’t know if he really truly wants to get sober or if he thinks that this is the only solution to current situation. No job, no home, no relationship with terrible injuries. Rehab puts him in a place where he doesn’t have to deal with any real world fallout, and I don’t think he realises how hard it’s going to be in his own head without drugs & alcohol. More than anything, I want this next 12 months of rehab to be his sobering rapture. If I believed in a Deity I’d be praying profusely. Now we just have to wait. I get to speak to him in 6 weeks, but until then there’s no contact.

“About life:
“It is not complicated unless I make it so. It is not difficult unless I allow it to be. A second is no more than a second, a minute no more than a minute, a day no more than a day. They pass. All things and all time will pass. Don’t force or fear, don’t control or lose control. Don’t fight and don’t stop fighting. Embrace and endure. If you embrace, you will endure.” 
― James Frey, A Million Little Pieces

Almost always the optimist, I am looking up. Strong in the belief that things will be better tomorrow. Because after everything, I can only love them and truly hope for the best.

signature2 - melly xox

throwback thursday

image

before the divorce; before the drama & complex relationships, there were these two lovely creatures; my Mum & Dad.

image

after finding a photo album filled with old pictures, I have been feeling nostalgic and a little sad. it’s strange how the pain of my parent’s divorce lingers on my soul and feels heavy on my heart years after.

everything would have been different. but it’s not. and while I let myself mourn a little for the happy times we shared as a traditional family unit, I think of all the happiness my parents have gained in their life after.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I do not, in fact, believe in regret and that I’m who I am today because of all the things I’ve experienced. I’m thankful that my parents are alive and made a decision for themselves that created their own happiness, and that while it was hard for me, it was a million times harder for them.

nothing is as bad as it sometimes seems and it’s true what they say; the sun shines after the rain.