What are relationships – what is their essence, their power and hold over us? What is the cavernous gap of Erin’s absence…and yet paradoxically her overpowering presence? For Erin’s presence is here as much if not more profoundly and insistently than Cameron’s, our son’s. In our summer travels she was as profound presence in our car and experiences as if she were there. I etched her name in the Namibian desert, big bold letters declaring her presence in her absence even as her presence was there when we visited Hong Kong before Christmas (photos above). As we plod through our daily routines we do not sanctify each action of Cameron’s life with poignant meaning. The actions of breakfasting, getting ready for school, preparing lunches are simply the fabric of everyday life. With the permanency of Erin’s departure, each of these daily rituals takes on overwhelming nostalgia be it the breakfast ritual of chocolate milk made only by Dada sucked through her favourite straw; her carefully chosen compartmentalized lunchbox customized with her unique selection of lunch goodies; the grrumpph when awoken in the morning - the covers pulled over and the refusal to stir - but then without further admonishment her appearance in her wondrous creative selection of attire. In the relentlessness of daily life we are careless about appreciating the ordinary ceremonies of life’s routines - those quiet quirky idiosyncrasies that inter-twine our lives together.
We always appreciated how our young daughter brought child-like wonder into our home. On arriving home from school she’d disappear and emerge later in some wondrous interpretation of clothing attire; the constant trail of clothes around the house yanked unceremoniously off my hangers were a joyful reminder of her ability to play and imagine. I miss my style consultant in the mornings or on shopping expeditions for clothes. Our conversations accommodated her more junior years; her spirit of joy injected fun into our mealtimes as she contorted herself with her legs in the air or when a-righted she would shoot her hand in the air to answer a question.
She inherited my strong independent streak and ability to challenge the status quo. In the morning I’d brace myself for the battle with the hairbrush through the rats nest in her hair. Many days I capitulated and she went to school with her personal statement of unkempt hair. But there were some evenings where I’d be allowed to touch the brush through the tangles and create grandiose hair creations, always guided by Erin’s sharp eye for the unusual. In the afternoon it was the ‘battle of the piano practising’; most days she would circumvent the keys and I on some days I would give in; we’d recently agreed to trade the ivories for violin strings. Her new violin was purchased the day before her accident and she proudly propped it under her chin and drew the bow across the strings the evening before going to her final sleep. In the evening I’d cajole her to put away her toys strewn around the room in her pursuit to find the perfect activity to occupy her creative mind. Erin’s resoluteness could sap energy! But I would trade that investment of energy for anything rather than the all-pervading soul-sucking, sleep-denying drain that grief demands and deprives.
Everywhere I go she peeks into my life, reminding me of outings, events, walks. At meetings, as I travel, when shopping, her cherubic face pokes behind pillars and doors. As a family we did everything together and there no places where the memories do not flood. Mostly she was always in accompaniment, following willingly and graciously whatever our family or Cameron’s schedule demanded, her chubby hand with monkey bar callouses always firmly clutched in Mike’s or my hands. Her insistent enthusiastic ‘Cammon’ or ‘Mama’, ‘Dada Look!’ commanded our attention to some new wonder or question.
Erin’s powerful presence in her absence fills us with so many wistful and wholesome memories. And for each in our family there is an achingly Erin-shaped vacuum. As a family we have always celebrated the moment - we walk together, talk together, and laugh together. Often I would collect the children from school and just rest a while before driving off, just soaking in the moment, repeating with gratitude ‘ I am so thankful for my children and family’. A friend’s gift to me of a bracelet with ‘Live in the Moment’ is a beautiful continual reminder that I must do so this even now. This is a painful and challenging paradox and awkward tightrope to let go of dwelling only in the past and on Erin - for it means we are not celebrating life here and now with the living family we have.
So many people have contacted me to say that because of Erin’s sudden and dramatic end they are living their lives differently. Things and daily demands that seemed important matter less; the tyranny of the urgent does not tug so insistently as that which is important - interactions with family and the celebration of life in each and every moment.
Reflect on the beauty of the ordinary; of rituals of daily life, and what sanctifies each family member as unique and special. TODAY may those present in your life be truly present in your consciousness, your engagement with them and in your appreciation of them. For some day – you know not when - there will not be a tomorrow.