Break On Thru To The Other Side
Without Prejudice
Lauren in Bali, June 1989, the year she died.
Parasailing at Bali, Lauren was the first one up .x
I brought them through to the other side, all my girls. From the dark days after their Sister, Lauren's tragic death. And they brought me through. We let the Husband and Father go. He was holding us back and I didn't in truth even like him by then, nor him me. So we women banded together, to stay strong, united.
We loved. We loved Kyle, our baby of two weeks, we went to the counselling and even though we didn't want to, we had to go on living. Kyle was our way out. His routine and care kept us alive when all we wanted to was lie down and give up.
Kyles Mum, my 2nd daughter, Yvette was just 18, had given birth, two weeks prior, before losing her youngest sister. It was soon to be Christmas, she went to the wall.i went to the wall, we all milled around in a fog of pain, not knowing how to cope.It was the worst experience anyone can imagine times one thousand.
When all the adrenalin had worn off, when the mourners had packed up and gone home, I hurt in every fibre of my being. My hair, eyebrows, face, toes hurt. I wanted to die. Death would have been a release from the pain. I woke in the morning and knew it was fact, my 12 year old child was dead. I couldn't change it.
For the rest of my life that fact was indisputable and if I wanted to live, I had to find sense, reason, sanity, peace. I wanted to be with her, I missed her and thought little of my other girls pain. I hurt, and hurt and hurt. Nothing made sense any more. Days dragged, life went on around me and I couldn't have cared less.
Only Kyle made sense. Lauren was soooo looking forward to her Sisters imminent giving birth. Everyday she wrote in her diary, how many days it was to birth day. And she was there when he was born, held him, kissed him, hugged him, whispered to him the secrets of life. Her truth, her beauty, her love.
She would catch a bus every day from Chandler High with her best friend Kerry, and stare at Kyle for hours. Eat Yvettes hospital food and just stare into the bassinet in awe. And on the Saturday night we all went out as a Family to celebrate, Debbie's 19th birthday, Yvettes 18th Birthday and us being Grandparents.
He didn't like it. It was a reminder of his age. He who had so wanted a son and had 4 girls was not happy his daughter was pregnant. I pleaded with him, I had been the same age when giving birth to Debbie, did he not understand ? But he remained cold, uncaring, unthinking. He was on his way to the top and friends, money, cars mattered. We were just there, his family.
When he first found out he knocked her into the bath, called her a slut. A friend and I had to stop him, a fifteen stone man, beating his own tiny girl child. She thought him a pig, so did I. He liked beating people up, laughed about it, bragged about it. He never told them that he beat me, however or his girls. Interesting.
So one day, five months after Lauren died he came home from the business roaring and shouting, calling his daughters sluts, once again, for leaving the hose in the driveway. I looked at him and I looked at them, and I was sweeping the floor. I will never forget that moment, the silence, the rage I felt, the disgust at him and at me.
I quietly turned around and looked at him square in the face and said,
" If you don't like it here, why don't you get out "
I realised I didn't even like this man and what did that make me? A liar, a hypocrite ? Happy to put up with his nastiness for the money. And yet we had no money, not really. It was all pie in the sky, stuff.
Happy to put up with his foul mouth and disgusting talk about others for a secure future for my children.
I would have killed him there, right on the spot if I had the desire. Grabbed his rifle or illegal pistol and shot him and fell no remorse what so ever. I used to dream of axing him in the head, stabbing him and I abhor violence. I wanted him gone, to me he was already gone, dead. He hesitated for one moment.
The family room was quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. Three girls sat at the bench not saying a word, Deb the oldest kept cooking the omelettes for lunch and I kept sweeping. He went to reach for the list he kept on our badness. The three page list, that started with we took his chocolate, so he had to keep it in his safe. But he hesitated and his hand dropped.
He instead stormed off into the bedroom and began packing his stuff. None of us spoke or uttered a sound as he made trip after trip to his prize G.T 71 Falcon. I kept sweeping, Debbie kept cooking and the other girls stayed quietly sitting at the bench. It was over. He knew it, I knew it. No one remonstrated with him not to go.
And he went and even though I was scared of what the future held I could not have cared less. Without one word of a lie, I never missed him, not for one second and yet I had lain beside him for 20 years. Given birth to his babies. We were done, finished, over. It was like being beaten over the head with a hammer for 20 years and then one day it suddenly stopped.
My children and counsellor said I had to forgive him and as a Christian girl I do but I never forget and 21 years later I took up my writing again and started Parenting Tips By Crazy Bob. Lol xoxo
Yvette, Debbie, Alena 4 days after Lauren died photo courtesy of Tha Dandenong Journal.
My ex and me, I was 16 and he 23
Bali Bagus, June 1989 with Mr. don't worry be happy.
My gorgeous Mum x
I brought them through to the other side, all my girls. From the dark days after their Sister, Lauren's tragic death. And they brought me through. We let the Husband and Father go. He was holding us back and I didn't in truth even like him by then, nor him me. So we women banded together, to stay strong, united.
We loved. We loved Kyle, our baby of two weeks, we went to the counselling and even though we didn't want to, we had to go on living. Kyle was our way out. His routine and care kept us alive when all we wanted to was lie down and give up.
Kyles Mum, my 2nd daughter, Yvette was just 18, had given birth, two weeks prior, before losing her youngest sister. It was soon to be Christmas, she went to the wall.i went to the wall, we all milled around in a fog of pain, not knowing how to cope.It was the worst experience anyone can imagine times one thousand.
When all the adrenalin had worn off, when the mourners had packed up and gone home, I hurt in every fibre of my being. My hair, eyebrows, face, toes hurt. I wanted to die. Death would have been a release from the pain. I woke in the morning and knew it was fact, my 12 year old child was dead. I couldn't change it.
For the rest of my life that fact was indisputable and if I wanted to live, I had to find sense, reason, sanity, peace. I wanted to be with her, I missed her and thought little of my other girls pain. I hurt, and hurt and hurt. Nothing made sense any more. Days dragged, life went on around me and I couldn't have cared less.
Only Kyle made sense. Lauren was soooo looking forward to her Sisters imminent giving birth. Everyday she wrote in her diary, how many days it was to birth day. And she was there when he was born, held him, kissed him, hugged him, whispered to him the secrets of life. Her truth, her beauty, her love.
She would catch a bus every day from Chandler High with her best friend Kerry, and stare at Kyle for hours. Eat Yvettes hospital food and just stare into the bassinet in awe. And on the Saturday night we all went out as a Family to celebrate, Debbie's 19th birthday, Yvettes 18th Birthday and us being Grandparents.
He didn't like it. It was a reminder of his age. He who had so wanted a son and had 4 girls was not happy his daughter was pregnant. I pleaded with him, I had been the same age when giving birth to Debbie, did he not understand ? But he remained cold, uncaring, unthinking. He was on his way to the top and friends, money, cars mattered. We were just there, his family.
When he first found out he knocked her into the bath, called her a slut. A friend and I had to stop him, a fifteen stone man, beating his own tiny girl child. She thought him a pig, so did I. He liked beating people up, laughed about it, bragged about it. He never told them that he beat me, however or his girls. Interesting.
So one day, five months after Lauren died he came home from the business roaring and shouting, calling his daughters sluts, once again, for leaving the hose in the driveway. I looked at him and I looked at them, and I was sweeping the floor. I will never forget that moment, the silence, the rage I felt, the disgust at him and at me.
I quietly turned around and looked at him square in the face and said,
" If you don't like it here, why don't you get out "
I realised I didn't even like this man and what did that make me? A liar, a hypocrite ? Happy to put up with his nastiness for the money. And yet we had no money, not really. It was all pie in the sky, stuff.
Happy to put up with his foul mouth and disgusting talk about others for a secure future for my children.
I would have killed him there, right on the spot if I had the desire. Grabbed his rifle or illegal pistol and shot him and fell no remorse what so ever. I used to dream of axing him in the head, stabbing him and I abhor violence. I wanted him gone, to me he was already gone, dead. He hesitated for one moment.
The family room was quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. Three girls sat at the bench not saying a word, Deb the oldest kept cooking the omelettes for lunch and I kept sweeping. He went to reach for the list he kept on our badness. The three page list, that started with we took his chocolate, so he had to keep it in his safe. But he hesitated and his hand dropped.
He instead stormed off into the bedroom and began packing his stuff. None of us spoke or uttered a sound as he made trip after trip to his prize G.T 71 Falcon. I kept sweeping, Debbie kept cooking and the other girls stayed quietly sitting at the bench. It was over. He knew it, I knew it. No one remonstrated with him not to go.
And he went and even though I was scared of what the future held I could not have cared less. Without one word of a lie, I never missed him, not for one second and yet I had lain beside him for 20 years. Given birth to his babies. We were done, finished, over. It was like being beaten over the head with a hammer for 20 years and then one day it suddenly stopped.
My children and counsellor said I had to forgive him and as a Christian girl I do but I never forget and 21 years later I took up my writing again and started Parenting Tips By Crazy Bob. Lol xoxo
