• Love letters

    Empty nest, empty heart

    I am broken. The sea of grief is so unexpected, so engulfing, so deep. A black cloud has hung over my head, resting on my shoulders like a heavy wet blanket, since he left on a jet plane. My soul, my heart, my being, longs for his presence. I am moved to tears at the thought of him. I have cried myself to sleep most nights for the past month. I have never felt so alone. I dread coming home to this empty nest. And having to be alone, completely alone. I have friends and a new boyfriend and work colleagues and new hobbies… but nothing fills the empty space…

  • Love letters

    Six annoying things single women are told

    I’ve been single for most of the last 20 years. During that time I’ve raised a baby boy into a good man, moved interstate twice, travelled to Europe twice, bought two homes and built a successful career. I’ve had two long-term partnerships during my son’s life – three years with my husband and then, a decade later, a fiancé for four years. There have been, of course, many short-lived love affairs over the years ranging from three weeks to 12 months. Some took barely a cup of tea with a friend to get over, others took months of therapy to understand (yes, Mr Narcissist, I’m looking at you). Maybe it’s…

  • Soul food

    The year that was

    If I had to choose one word to sum up this year, it would be change. It’s been a huge year of transformation and growth. I like to do these reflective posts because they show me how far I have come, but they also keep me accountable moving forward. So, here’s my 2014… My son turned 18. My journey of motherhood is now, to a degree, finished. Of course I’m still a mother and always will be, but the child rearing years are over. My son is a mature, gentle and kind man. I’ve done well. My feelings about this transition are a melting pot of happiness, relief, sadness, pride, liberation, tiredness,…

  • Death lillies
    Love letters

    Life and death for Chicken Little

    I am the youngest (by many years) in a family of five children. Mum was 42-years-old when she had me, a baby that was never planned but couldn’t be helped. My nearest sibling is eight years older than me and the oldest is 17 years older than me. Earlier this year my Mum died following complications from a drug-resistant bacterial infection. She was 89-years-old and had been disabled by a stroke for the last 13 years of her life. If it had been possible for her to end her own life at any time during those years I know she would have done so. Six months prior to Mum’s death,…