We Must Dig In And Get Through To Tea---Phillip Hughes
Without Prejudice
"Phillip's spirit, which is now part of our game forever, will act as a custodian of the sport we all love. We must listen to it. We must cherish it. We must learn from it. We must dig in and get through to tea. And we must play on.
In what was a moving and heartfelt tribute to Phillip Hughes, Michael Clarke epitomised all the things that happen when we are faced with the incomprehensible, the awful, the " Rain" that must fall in every life. How we then go about life is supposed to make us strong. Rather than trying to be strong, we need to give in to shock and grief before we can begin to live again.
Phillip was so young, so full of promise, so gregarious. A great son, a loved brother and friend and was living his boyhood dream of playing cricket for Australia. And was taken in an instant. An awful accident. His death points out to us, once again, the fragility of life. How in one second, the warmth, the stuff of life is gone and what remains is cold and dark.
The earth stops in its axis in that one awful moment and life changes in an instant. Before is gone, there is only ever after.
I can remember when my daughter died, travelling in the car to the cremation and being shocked, stunned that cars were still driving in the lanes next to us. People were going about their lives and my life, our lives had stopped. Ended for a while.
That was 25 years ago now. And although we love and miss her every day we had to go on.
I cannot emphasise strongly enough the need for counselling at that time and for months after.
I was in limbo. My life was stuck. Christmas was three weeks away. You really do find yourself wringing your hands a lot. Sighing a lot. Like an automaton you get up, you eat, you exist but for a while, you, the essential you, is just not there. Routine takes over.
Your body floods with hormones for the first six weeks, that get you through. Then the pain arrives. Pain so terrible you hurt in every part of your body. Even your eyebrows hurt, your hair, your feet. Grief sucks at your legs, your arms, your brain, you don't want to move. I found myself looking at the clock and thinking if I can just get through the next minute, hour, day I will be O.K.
The counselling sessions were the only things I looked forward to. Apart from them, life made no sense. I had loads of cards, which I swept off the bench and went outside and was ready to kick the dog. A dog I loved. My daughter, Yvette, followed me out and ticked me off.
" We've lost a Sister " she said, " and we also have to put up with You "
I was chastened and went back inside and read the cards, watered the flowers in vast vases and acted normal until I could escape to the sanctuary of my room.
The counsellors gave me tapes to listen to by Kubler Ross. The 7 stages of grief. The numbness, the pining, the anger, the final one being acceptance. I never ever thought I would make that one, but eventually I did. She was here for a reason and I had to find it, be at peace.
For all Phillip's friends and family, I hope they have expert counselling. And they take on board everything that is said. I remember all of it, every word.
Clung to their lifeline they threw out to me. Was blessed to be able to afford it and will willingly pass it along to anyone else that wants to hear.
There is no sense to some things, but they happen. Have faith, life is still worth living in honour, grace, spirit and to honour the person, child that has died. My life changed, forever, my families
lives changed, friends lives changed. When there is a shocking death we tend to look at life very differently.
There were engagements broken, marriages broken, including mine, friendships broken, violence, fear, terror. But she told me once that I would be fine, better than fine and you know what ?
I was.
I can remember when my daughter died, travelling in the car to the cremation and being shocked, stunned that cars were still driving in the lanes next to us. People were going about their lives and my life, our lives had stopped. Ended for a while.
That was 25 years ago now. And although we love and miss her every day we had to go on.
I cannot emphasise strongly enough the need for counselling at that time and for months after.
I was in limbo. My life was stuck. Christmas was three weeks away. You really do find yourself wringing your hands a lot. Sighing a lot. Like an automaton you get up, you eat, you exist but for a while, you, the essential you, is just not there. Routine takes over.
Your body floods with hormones for the first six weeks, that get you through. Then the pain arrives. Pain so terrible you hurt in every part of your body. Even your eyebrows hurt, your hair, your feet. Grief sucks at your legs, your arms, your brain, you don't want to move. I found myself looking at the clock and thinking if I can just get through the next minute, hour, day I will be O.K.
The counselling sessions were the only things I looked forward to. Apart from them, life made no sense. I had loads of cards, which I swept off the bench and went outside and was ready to kick the dog. A dog I loved. My daughter, Yvette, followed me out and ticked me off.
" We've lost a Sister " she said, " and we also have to put up with You "
I was chastened and went back inside and read the cards, watered the flowers in vast vases and acted normal until I could escape to the sanctuary of my room.
The counsellors gave me tapes to listen to by Kubler Ross. The 7 stages of grief. The numbness, the pining, the anger, the final one being acceptance. I never ever thought I would make that one, but eventually I did. She was here for a reason and I had to find it, be at peace.
For all Phillip's friends and family, I hope they have expert counselling. And they take on board everything that is said. I remember all of it, every word.
Clung to their lifeline they threw out to me. Was blessed to be able to afford it and will willingly pass it along to anyone else that wants to hear.
There is no sense to some things, but they happen. Have faith, life is still worth living in honour, grace, spirit and to honour the person, child that has died. My life changed, forever, my families
lives changed, friends lives changed. When there is a shocking death we tend to look at life very differently.
There were engagements broken, marriages broken, including mine, friendships broken, violence, fear, terror. But she told me once that I would be fine, better than fine and you know what ?
I was.
