Lauren 6-The exquisite agony
Without Prejudice
What can you say about the death of a child. I was already locked in a world of my own. People said I sounded cold, I cracked up laughing on a phone call to Sharon and David Frost at Herevey Bay. I am sure Sharon must have wondered what was going on in my brain. But I was in shock, numb, this was not happening, not happening, not happening. Lauren was "Somewhere" and that is the only way I can cope with the fact she is dead, now, is to think she is somewhere. Somewhere beautiful reincarnated as another being, flower, animal, spirit, soul. All that loveliness and hope and desire just can't die????
I was living in a no mans land, inside my hard protective shell. I lay in bed with my newly reconciled husband and plotted ways to kill him. I needed his help but to say I despised him would be an understatement. But we stuck together as ever for the time and the relatives. Bob had already moved out earlier in the year, He had been having a classic mid life crisis for a few years, starting when he turned 39 and we "pinched" his chocolate. He was never happy with us, me and the girls, we did things wrong to him and he clealy wanted another life.
I was a doormat, I had been for years. Trying to leave so many times and HAVING to come back. Each time was worse. My friend Sylvia was going through her own mid life crisis at the time. She and I had been trying to leave our husbands for years, Or at least 5, they say a woman waits 5 years too long to get out. We certainly had, but it was so much easier to just think of the kids, their well being and health and not ours. I was with a violent man and Sylvia was with an alky. Misery was our middle name. Bob had recently fallen in love with a bar girl in the Phillipines, Anna Lyn, she was 19.
I loved my married state but I knew it was neurotic to still be hankering after Bob. He didn't love me or even respect me. I can hardly blame him in one way, I was a softie and we disagreed on everything, but I was a doormat and would beg him to stay, love me, parent with me. He wouldn't and he didn't. But when Lauren died he moved back home to be of " comfort " to the family. Once my family had left to go back home he turned back into the same old Bob. He ranted at me that he hated employees and wanted to open a massage parlour in the Phillipnes. I told him to let me out of the car.
"We've just cremated our daughter, let me out of this car"
He wouldn't, he loved a captive audience and he kept me captive in the car while he ranted unabated. Bob hated everyone, us, employees, his family, mine, friends, especially mine, who were "Sluts". All my girlfriends were sluts. And now me and the girls were, his remaining daughters.
The days after Lauren's death dragged on. I stared at the clock, wanting time to pass. It was excruciating pain. I felt like all my nerves were being scraped with razor blades. I hated everyone and didn't want them near me. I knew they all thought suicide, mine. As my Mother had committed suicide and she had lost a child, my brother James, years before. I was pregnant with Lauren when Mum killed herself. But Mum was so ill, My practical brain knew that. I wasn't ill. I was grieving and at that stage I would have just been numb. My mouth opened, I spoke, But it was like I was a robot, nothing was reaching me. I felt all alone and if the world has a nuclear holocaust and you are left alone to survive. What you feel then MAY, just may come within a thousand miles of what a Mother feels when she loses a child. The pain is unending. It becomes more manageable, one day, but I still can't stare into that pain and survive, so I edge around it. They call it the equisite agony.
The minister from her Sunday School came and offered words of comfort and we decided to have a service for her at Dingley Sunday School before the cremation. Kerry, Lauren's best friend said that Lauren had said that she wanted all her school friends to be dressed in school uniform at her funeral
"What?" I whirled around to Kerry, startling her.
"What do you mean, Lauren talked of her own funeral??"
"Yes," Kerry replied.
"We were out swimming in the pool, (Bob and I had an inground pool) and Lauren was swimming and she said she wanted all her"
I interrupted her,
"That means she KNEW she was going to die as a child, if all her friends are coming in school uniform"
"Yes", said Kerry
"And she didn't want to be buried, she wanted to be cremated, she thought worms will crawl through her if she was buried. "
We were all stunned for a minute, processing this new bit of information.
The family and I had all camped ourselves in the kitchen, we must have eaten, I don't remember any of the practical side. I know the animals were looked after, Laurens kitten Mush and the two dogs, Kellie and Grunt, the fat dumb white bull terrier. Food arrived from friends and neighbours. My gorgeous Indian neighbour kept bringing curries, each one hotter than the last. Dave my brother suggested that when the next lot of visitors came we,
"Push the curry, girls push the curry"
We all laughed hysterically. It was good to feel some of the tension leave us. Dave, my brother is like that, just naturally funny.
The boys went to take photos of the gate where the girls had got in and these photos were to be lost for years. Turning up suddenly when we were desperate to find them when there was a court case. My older Sister and older brother organised to go to the funeral home and take an outfit for Lauren to be dressed in for the funeral. Her graduation outfit. A pale apricot pretty dress, white stockings and shoes. Bob and I couldn't do it. We just could not move any more, not even to greet visitors. My family took over. Ian organised a speech, David organised the music and George organised the funeral and the business while we sat around shell shocked.
My beautiful girl, who loved everyting, Yvette's horse Zabeth, her kitten, her family, her friends, her Aunts and Uncles, Grandmas and Grandads, school friends, Axl Rose and Guns N Roses, was dead. It was not possible, not possible, it was a bad mistake, it wasn't her and sooner or later she would come walking back in that door. She who was so pretty, although she didn't think so. She was stunning with her big white teeth, and her shimmering waterfall of hair. Her nut brown face pulled back with a headband to reveal a high intelligent forhead. I could see her, still smell her, feel her arms around my body. I wanted her, craved her, and knew this was a sick joke people were playing on us, perhaps she had been kidnapped. It was a test by God. It was anything but the reality of what we were facing.
love janette
What can you say about the death of a child. I was already locked in a world of my own. People said I sounded cold, I cracked up laughing on a phone call to Sharon and David Frost at Herevey Bay. I am sure Sharon must have wondered what was going on in my brain. But I was in shock, numb, this was not happening, not happening, not happening. Lauren was "Somewhere" and that is the only way I can cope with the fact she is dead, now, is to think she is somewhere. Somewhere beautiful reincarnated as another being, flower, animal, spirit, soul. All that loveliness and hope and desire just can't die????
I was living in a no mans land, inside my hard protective shell. I lay in bed with my newly reconciled husband and plotted ways to kill him. I needed his help but to say I despised him would be an understatement. But we stuck together as ever for the time and the relatives. Bob had already moved out earlier in the year, He had been having a classic mid life crisis for a few years, starting when he turned 39 and we "pinched" his chocolate. He was never happy with us, me and the girls, we did things wrong to him and he clealy wanted another life.
I was a doormat, I had been for years. Trying to leave so many times and HAVING to come back. Each time was worse. My friend Sylvia was going through her own mid life crisis at the time. She and I had been trying to leave our husbands for years, Or at least 5, they say a woman waits 5 years too long to get out. We certainly had, but it was so much easier to just think of the kids, their well being and health and not ours. I was with a violent man and Sylvia was with an alky. Misery was our middle name. Bob had recently fallen in love with a bar girl in the Phillipines, Anna Lyn, she was 19.
I loved my married state but I knew it was neurotic to still be hankering after Bob. He didn't love me or even respect me. I can hardly blame him in one way, I was a softie and we disagreed on everything, but I was a doormat and would beg him to stay, love me, parent with me. He wouldn't and he didn't. But when Lauren died he moved back home to be of " comfort " to the family. Once my family had left to go back home he turned back into the same old Bob. He ranted at me that he hated employees and wanted to open a massage parlour in the Phillipnes. I told him to let me out of the car.
"We've just cremated our daughter, let me out of this car"
He wouldn't, he loved a captive audience and he kept me captive in the car while he ranted unabated. Bob hated everyone, us, employees, his family, mine, friends, especially mine, who were "Sluts". All my girlfriends were sluts. And now me and the girls were, his remaining daughters.
The days after Lauren's death dragged on. I stared at the clock, wanting time to pass. It was excruciating pain. I felt like all my nerves were being scraped with razor blades. I hated everyone and didn't want them near me. I knew they all thought suicide, mine. As my Mother had committed suicide and she had lost a child, my brother James, years before. I was pregnant with Lauren when Mum killed herself. But Mum was so ill, My practical brain knew that. I wasn't ill. I was grieving and at that stage I would have just been numb. My mouth opened, I spoke, But it was like I was a robot, nothing was reaching me. I felt all alone and if the world has a nuclear holocaust and you are left alone to survive. What you feel then MAY, just may come within a thousand miles of what a Mother feels when she loses a child. The pain is unending. It becomes more manageable, one day, but I still can't stare into that pain and survive, so I edge around it. They call it the equisite agony.
The minister from her Sunday School came and offered words of comfort and we decided to have a service for her at Dingley Sunday School before the cremation. Kerry, Lauren's best friend said that Lauren had said that she wanted all her school friends to be dressed in school uniform at her funeral
"What?" I whirled around to Kerry, startling her.
"What do you mean, Lauren talked of her own funeral??"
"Yes," Kerry replied.
"We were out swimming in the pool, (Bob and I had an inground pool) and Lauren was swimming and she said she wanted all her"
I interrupted her,
"That means she KNEW she was going to die as a child, if all her friends are coming in school uniform"
"Yes", said Kerry
"And she didn't want to be buried, she wanted to be cremated, she thought worms will crawl through her if she was buried. "
We were all stunned for a minute, processing this new bit of information.
The family and I had all camped ourselves in the kitchen, we must have eaten, I don't remember any of the practical side. I know the animals were looked after, Laurens kitten Mush and the two dogs, Kellie and Grunt, the fat dumb white bull terrier. Food arrived from friends and neighbours. My gorgeous Indian neighbour kept bringing curries, each one hotter than the last. Dave my brother suggested that when the next lot of visitors came we,
"Push the curry, girls push the curry"
We all laughed hysterically. It was good to feel some of the tension leave us. Dave, my brother is like that, just naturally funny.
The boys went to take photos of the gate where the girls had got in and these photos were to be lost for years. Turning up suddenly when we were desperate to find them when there was a court case. My older Sister and older brother organised to go to the funeral home and take an outfit for Lauren to be dressed in for the funeral. Her graduation outfit. A pale apricot pretty dress, white stockings and shoes. Bob and I couldn't do it. We just could not move any more, not even to greet visitors. My family took over. Ian organised a speech, David organised the music and George organised the funeral and the business while we sat around shell shocked.
My beautiful girl, who loved everyting, Yvette's horse Zabeth, her kitten, her family, her friends, her Aunts and Uncles, Grandmas and Grandads, school friends, Axl Rose and Guns N Roses, was dead. It was not possible, not possible, it was a bad mistake, it wasn't her and sooner or later she would come walking back in that door. She who was so pretty, although she didn't think so. She was stunning with her big white teeth, and her shimmering waterfall of hair. Her nut brown face pulled back with a headband to reveal a high intelligent forhead. I could see her, still smell her, feel her arms around my body. I wanted her, craved her, and knew this was a sick joke people were playing on us, perhaps she had been kidnapped. It was a test by God. It was anything but the reality of what we were facing.
love janette
