Today, is one of those days when I wonder what has happened to my sanity and myself (yesterday was one of those days as well).
Today, my husband kissed his sons goodbye and wished them well on their first day of Year 2. Then he went to work.
Today, my sons and I rode our bicycles to their first day in Year 2. We found their class and their class mates surrounded by lots of excitement. There was yelling and calling to friends across the quadrangle. There was happiness that they were in classes with their friends; although not in the same class as each other, which is probably a good thing.
Today, my daughter did not begin Year 4. I saw Adam, who Clea was going to marry in Kindergarten. I saw Bailey, who Clea was going to marry in Year 1. But I did not see Clea.
Today, my sons told me to leave because they did not need me hanging around. They had their friends and their new teachers. They were happy and safe.
Today, I rode my bike home, alone, and cried for my daughter (and, of course, for myself). I sat alone and wondered what I was doing and why.
Today, I drove to an eye hospital to meet my parents and have lunch with them. My mother had cataracts taken out. I listened to my mother talk about people I do not know and about the new townhouse they will move into shortly. She gave me more boxes of ‘stuff’ she has cleaned out from her house – toys that are too young for my sons, old piano exam results, old school reports – all ‘stuff’ that I do not need and neither does she.
Today, I watched the confusion in my father’s face as he realised that he did not know where he was. I wondered whether he flits in and out of insanity or whether he is almost always within.
Today, I felt sorry for my parents and for myself. I drove home trying to decide whether insanity was such a bad thing. I wrote a poem once called ‘Waiting for Death or Insanity’. I don’t care which but anything is better than sanity sometimes.
Today, I will ride my bike back to the school and ride home with my sons. I will listen to their excited chatter about their first day in Year 2. And I will remember the little girl who never quite got to Year 2.
Today, it is 123 weeks since my only daughter died in a tsunami.