Marching On

Last Tuesday I awoke to the news of my father's sudden death, for the second time in five years. I don't know if it's a result of time passing, memory blocking or simply compounded pain, but it was worse this time. I've been at my family home for the last ten days, hugging my siblings and mother, cleaning the house and farm yard, smoking a lot of cigarettes  The grief was almost unbearable, but confronted with a woman grieving for her husband and young teenagers hurting for their father, my grief seemed less. At any rate, shared grief is easier to handle. Keeping busy helped (the farm must be sold, there is no-one to care for it, and it needs fixing up) but the moment I stopped, spectres of my fathers rose up before me. The house is so full of them, even my bio-father is there is my bio-sisters and their pictures. I've returned home to Melbourne, and will be kept busy catching up on classes and study that I've missed, seeing friends and lovers and trying to get on with life. I hope it helps. Easter break will be spent on the farm, and I'll keep in better contact with my family. The outpouring of love and support from my extended family was amazing, and has forced the realisation that family is far more important than I had thought. Relatives, some that I hadn't seen in over a decade, drove from all over the state and country to be there for my siblings, mother and I. Perhaps I will move home one day.