Nieces

On Friday my sister Rosemary and I had a girls' lunch with my two nieces, Renee and Melissa, ostensibly for Renee's birthday but also just to get together, the four of us, for a gossip and a catch up. We do this all too rarely and it was great fun.

Both girls have grown up into lovely young women and although they're both currently single, I'm sure some lucky bloke will be smart enough to snap them up some day.

They take after their aunt slightly I think in that they were a bit unsure of what direction to take in their lives when younger (in their aunt's case she was completely all over the place!). But they've now both found their way and are doing really well. Renee (in the middle) is a very dedicated primary school teacher and Melissa after quite a few years working, decided this year to take on a science degree at Flinders. She's done very well in her first exams and is enjoying learning again. Although it's a big challenge, I know the family attitude of persistence and industriousness will ensure she gets there and will then be able to look forward to an exciting and rewarding career.

Rosemary can be very proud of her girls, which she is of course!!

Sisterhood

In thinking over the past week which has been quite a stressful one for me with Scully's problems, I felt so grateful for having a sister who is always a rock of strength and support whenever life gets a bit difficult for me. I haven't written anything previously about my dear sister, Rosemary but I would like her to know she is loved and very precious to me.

We are different in many ways, however I like to think those differences complement each other. We also share many traits, in particular our devotion to animals, especially our precious dogs. Rosemary and her husband Len have three, all of which are thoroughly doted on. Of course as fanatical pet lovers, she and I have both had our share of heartbreaking times, when a beloved pet gets ill or passes on and it is at these times that because we understand so well the grief that this entails, we are able to support each other.

Rosemary is brilliant at this. Last week when Scully got sick, she came to visit all the way from Murray Bridge just to see if I was ok as well as phoning and emailing regularly to check on things. There's not a lot of tangible things one can do to help when life's downs come along, but just to know there's someone you can talk to about anything is wonderful. God knows I've moaned and whinged to her endlessly over the years but she never complains, never judges and is just there to lend an understanding ear, whatever the problem. Things were different when we were kids of course and as we shared a bedroom familiarity bred not only contempt but some raging rows from memory. But that's all part of the family experience and it certainly hasn't marred our relationship as adults.

I look forward to us growing into old ladies together grumbling about the indignities of age and infirmity, the intransigence of men and children, the frustrations of work and trying to make ends meet, the parlous state of the world and where will it all end and so on. It's really good to know that whatever befalls me, there's someone who'll always be in my corner, backing me all the way. Thanks to you dear sister.

Lest we Forget

The scale of the homage this country pays to its men and women who served in times of war is deservedly huge and seems to grow with each successive Anzac Day commemoration. It is a very public tribute, but made up of millions of personal stories. There would probably be few Australian families who do not have a link in some way to a relative who served in one or another of our wars, in particular the First and Second World Wars which involved by far the greater proportion of young men and women. It is a collective message of gratitude and respect that the nation offers on this day, but simultaneously an opportunity for individuals to honour and remember grandfathers, fathers, uncles, and other distant or close relatives who fought not just for their country, but for us, their descendants.

In my case I remember first my grandfather who fought in the horrors of the trenches in France in the First World War. I don't remember him well as I was still a child when he died, but I'm told he suffered from shell shock, so he returned with his body intact but his mind and spirit unalterably changed.

My father, a quiet self effacing man in person but a towering presence in my life, served in the Australian Army in the Second World War from July 1940 to January 1947. He was a Staff Sergeant in the 2nd 48th Australian Infantry Battalion, Australia's most highly decorated unit of the Second World War. The battalion trained at Woodside in South Australia and then sailed to the Middle East. They fought memorably at Tobruk, then in El Alamein, returning to help staunch the onslaught of the Japanese in New Guinea where they battled in the mud of the infamous Kokoda Trail. They later served in the jungles of Morotai, Borneo and Tarakan, before being disbanded following the Japanese surrender in 1945.

My father saw action therefore in conditions of searing heat, desert, tropical jungles, mountains and God knows what other hostile and unforgiving terrain. As a result, being a fair skinned man, he bore a permanent legacy from this time, which was skin damage, ultimately manifesting in a melanoma which killed him, but not until the ripe old age of 92, so he was nothing if not tough.

He never spoke much about the war, despite our curious questions as children, provoked occasionally by coming across faded and tattered old photographs of skinny young men in khaki, usually laughing and looking like they were having a jolly good time. Opportunities for laughs were probably all too few, but the camaraderie that existed in the Australian troops was legendary and the fierce loyalty these old soldiers sustained towards their mates all through their subsequent lives is testament to that. Several of them, although clearly frail and weakened by age and illness, were there at my Dad's funeral and moving as the playing of "The Last Post" was to us, I can only imagine the memories it must have stirred in them.

In looking through some old photographs recently, I came across this one of my Dad as a young soldier in his uniform. I suspect it was one he sent to my mother, as they became engaged and were married while he was still on active service. On the back in his distinctive handwriting, which never varied throughout his life, he has written"This is me (underlined). Not at my best but near enough."

He is a serious looking young man, wide, guileless blue eyes in an open freckled face. Above all, he looks vulnerable - so young, so boyish but obviously so steadfast in his determination to live up to what he sees as his duty - to do his best for his beloved country, his mates, his family, his sweetheart, and his as yet unborn children. We, his children, are middle aged now and he and most of his comrades are gone, but we bear an unpayable debt of gratitude to him and all the others like him.

Let's not ever allow the memory of war to be glorified in any way, because there is no glory in killing. Let us always remember though, those who fought and suffered and died that we might have a chance of living in peace.

Everyone's going OS (except me!)

Just in the last few months there has been rather a constant stream of friends and workmates tripping off on overseas jaunts, and today my sister and her husband left for their long awaited trip. They have been furiously saving and planning for about two years so the level of excitement had about reached fever pitch by today. Here we are at the airport (my sister on far right, my two very tall and very blond nieces in the middle) and moi of course. Bro-in-law was given the job of taking the photo to calm him down as this being his first trip overseas, he was getting a bit jittery. I think they arrived at the airport about three hours before the flight was due to leave, just in case!! So I'm hoping they have a fabulous time and return home safely with lots of wonderful memories, photos and stories to tell. If only I could budget like my sister, maybe I could afford a trip myself! Hopefully I will become sufficiently inspired by the travellers' tales as I do think it's the most fantastic experience, and one that everyone should aspire to.

Brotherly love

Relationships between brothers and sisters have often been called life's most influential and longest lasting relationships - lasting longer than ties to parents, spouses, or children (Bank & Kahn, 1997). As such they can certainly teach us a lot about ourselves.

This past weekend I spent some time with my brother, just he and I, something we have rarely done through the course of our relationship . He is walking a very hard road through life at present, having recently lost his wife of almost 30 years suddenly and unexpectedly as the result of a rare complication following a surgical procedure. I spent some time sitting with him in the hospital the day she died when he was faced with the enormity of having to give his assent to turning off the life support mechanisms. The nightmarish atmosphere of that room and that day lives with me still ... I cannot conceive of the torment it must have caused him.

This photo of them both was taken during a holiday in Thailand I shared with them several years ago, when we all had a fantastic time visiting an elephant camp.

She was a delightful woman, much loved by her large family of sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews - quiet, unassuming, but warm, caring and perhaps one of the most completely unselfish people I knew. My brother has lost someone very precious.

However he is moving through the grieving process and all it entails with quiet fortitude, dignity and a remarkable degree of perceptiveness. We talked on the weekend about what this journey is revealing to him, about himself, life and also, as became evident, his other family relationships. Some of the things he is learning on this painful but illuminating journey of self-discovery I think I should try to incorporate into my own journey, to help with those periods of stress and uncertainty we all face at times. Perhaps one of the most significant is gaining a real appreciation of today and a gratitude for the life we have in our hands now, because we can never be sure there'll be a tomorrow. To me this means taking the time to say thanks, or I appreciate your help, or I love you, or I understand how you feel to those people in life who mean a lot to us. There's no guarantee they'll be around next week, next month or next year to hear those words and be cheered by them. It also means enjoying what we have in life that's good - warm clothes, delicious food, lovely fragrances, a beautiful sky, flowers, a hug from a friend, the quizzical look on a dog's face - all that every day stuff that makes life worth living ... or taking that long dreamt of trip if we can possibly scrape the money together and just soaking up the wonder and discovery of that experience to the best of our ability (and worrying about the damage to the credit card later!)

Another challenge for my brother, and for us all I think at different times in our lives, is letting go of the future, giving up trying to control the universe to conform to our desires (and as a control freak from way back, this is a major challenge for me!). The universe and much that's in it, is largely completely beyond our control and while we can do our best to influence outcomes for the better, essentially we have to roll with the punches and learn from whatever curved balls get thrown our way. The forward path is pretty much obscured for my brother right now and with the death of his much loved wife, his plans, dreams, expectations and hopes in that regard have been shrouded in a blanket of incertitude. But he is learning to move forward despite that, trusting that things will unfold and evolve in time, and in the process developing those wonderful (and rare) qualities of patience and acceptance.

So my dear brother in his sadness had much to teach me and I hope I am always able to be there at his side along the journey into the unknown, and also that it eventually takes him to a place of warmth, safety, love and security again.