In my household of five people (3 adults), it’s become clear I’m the only person who knows the recipe for making ice. There are perpetual empty ice trays in the freezer til I notice the need for ice.
Maybe my family are close to the age where I can confidently pass on that secret family recipe.
Reading Time: 3 minutesA tragic event rocked our new year. On New Year’s Eve, a dear family friend’s son took his own life.
It still seems like a bad dream.
There was no prior warning, there were no signs. There seems to be no reasons.
An army of friends banded together to show the family their support and help. Though our help seems pretty trivial in the face of their heartache wondering why – perhaps a question they’ll have for the rest of their lives. And we could offer no help to alleviate the pain that had cut so deep, none of them have eaten or slept in the four days since it happened.
We could really just let them know we’re there.
The boy was friendly with my two sons. They both loved his sense of humour, and were drawn to his charisma. So I felt it was right to tell them what happened, though I first Google-d to confirm the experts recommend it also.
It was a terribly tough conversation to have with the boys. The web advice was quite helpful. We obviously avoided sharing any specifics. There were useful messages about suicide being an illness, that the stress & unhappiness makes people forget there are always people to talk to; and that their actions were just an attempt to feel better when they thought there was nothing else they could do. It’s a very sad, but important lesson. And it was upsetting to see my boys learn it so intimately.
I thought my five year old may be too young to understand. It was clear though he knew exactly what we were saying. When we took them to visit the family the day after, he asked if the boy was there in a grave. And on the way home, both my boys were asking really good questions about what could they do. My nine year old has practically made it a mission to be there and check on all of his friends at school regularly.
In terms of my own feelings, I still find this very difficult to accept. How could things grow so overwhelming for a 15 year old that it comes to this? To his close family and friends, it makes no sense. To an outsider, it makes even less sense.
We already knew he was popular and well-liked. His Facebook page lit up with an overwhelming number of posts from his friends, all sharing how highly they thought of him, and how much they’ll miss him. He couldn’t have known the level of support he had. He could not have realised how many people felt broken at his passing.
The day after we heard the news, not by specific plan, I had my weekly run in their suburb. It was a lovely cool, upbeat morning, with lots of positive thoughts. Without even truly realising where I was, a solemn feeling swept through me as I came close to their neighborhood. I suddenly had to stop, walk off course toward the entrance’s security gate. Then my mind filled with visions of him on his bike on these same streets. Usually with friends, most often making jokes and hearing his distinctive laugh, laughing hysterically. And here I am in the dark silence of morning, almost fittingly cold and empty. I was overwhelmed with the thoughts of his demise. His family still wide awake in the villa, feeling crushed by their loss. I turned back, felt the pure tragedy and became quite a blubbering mess.
At the end of a long morning run, I generally feel wonderful to be alive. That morning I felt more reflective on how lucky we are, and that we have a duty to make the most of our time.
Because, for whatever reason, some people aren’t here to enjoy this opportunity. May they now rest in peace.
Life is a gift, let's treasure every moment for those who cannot.
— Ryan B (@rbrink77) January 3, 2014
Reading Time: 3 minutesMy Nanna passed away Friday 12/03/2010, at the ripe age of 91.
I was asked to say a few words from the grandkids – I did this nine years ago for Poppy also. The following is my tribute, based on various inputs requested and received via social networking – found yet another Facebook use.
It’s a real honour for me to be here today to join in the celebration of Nanna’s life, and to say some words on behalf of her 18 proud grandkids and great grandkids.
We loved the way when Nanna saw us she would always touch our faces with her two hands. We’ll miss her hugs. We’d get a hug and kiss every time we saw her. They were never the strongest hugs, and each year our arms were going further and further around her tiny frame, but her hugs always came from the heart. We were constantly reminded that big things do come in small packages.
We always loved staying at Shorncliffe on our school holidays, playing cards and board games. Being at Nanna and Poppy’s home felt like our home. Jetty Street breakfasts were legendary, with Nanna’s poached eggs out of an egg tray that fit on top of a steaming pan, served on toast and promite. And regardless of how miniscule the fish was that we brought back from fishing on the jetty, she’d always happily prepare it as a meal fit for a King.
We loved the heartfelt cards she’d write to us for birthdays, or any other special occasion which she’d never forget. She made it known she was very proud of us. She was intensely proud of all her family. In her words, we “came from good stock”.
And she really treasured her growing number of great grandkids. She loved holding them. Carrying them she looked truly happy, even though in her final few years a couple of those babies weighed almost a quarter of her own weight.Nanna thought the grandkids were such cute babies too, but, for a few of us she’d usually follow-up by adding how massive our heads were.
She understood how busy everyone’s lives were and never expected people to go out of their way for her. Every time we visited her, she would emphasise how happy she was to see us, rather than how long it had been since she had seen us.
Nanna was prepared for anything. She always had a handkerchief, which she’d often moisten with her tongue to wash our faces.
And we never went hungry. My goodness!She could always lay out a spread of food so swiftly, and would always offer seconds. You’d finish your meal, and then a skinny little arm would push another plate of food closer to you. No matter what our size, she always thought we needed more. To her we were all “growing kids”.
And she’d always serve herself last. She was born to be a mother, grandmother and great grandmother.Nanna and Poppy were also two of the most reliable people we’ll ever know. At their dinner time you could set your watch to 6pm with absolute precision.
And in these modern times, it’s uncommon for kids to have both parents attend their school parades, fetes, award nights, graduations, sporting events and anything else. We always had our parents there, but we were also quite unique and blessed to often have both grandparents there.
In recent times, Queensland has suffered two of its worst droughts in history, and was subjected to severe water restrictions. Nanna’s take on this was almost nonchalant. To her it was no big deal. She had naturally adhered to Level 7 water restrictions for more than 80 years. Whenever we stayed at Shorncliffe, Nanna would wash us in a bath with the tide out. She was an expert at how to be thrifty and make do – two very good lessons for us to learn.
At her 90th birthday it was touching to see Nanna cry at the memory of Poppy. But she was still able to show how much she loved spending her time with us.
Nanna and Poppy’s love story will always inspire us. Long-lasting or eternal love is an amazing story. Poppy was the love of her life, and she’s missed him so much over the last nine years.
That love they had for each other has passed on through the family.Although it’s sad she’s left us, we’re happy they’re together again.
Nanna and Poppy always danced so well. We assume they’re dancing together now.
Reading Time: < 1 minuteThings had became quiet on the accommodation front, to the point where I was just about to contact them to confirm everything was alright.
The last I had heard, from someone inside the move, was that the date had moved out to maybe even July. It was disappointing, but we just accepted it as there’s nothing we could do about it.
However, imagine our surprise when we got advice a couple of days ago to say that we had been allocated an apartment, and we can actually move in around the last week of this month.
I recognise they may slip a little from this date they cite. But I’d expect that it should still happen in June if this is their current advice.
Interestingly, the apartment we’ve been offered is our current temporary apartment’s number with just a 1 in front of it. So we’re going up 10 storeys which my wife is already anxious about. A fear of heights was always going to be an issue living in an apartment. Out of 25 floors, 14 is not too bad though. I believe the view become unobstructed from about floor 10 – for the time being.
We’re certainly looking forward to it.
Reading Time: 5 minutesFriday morning a bit before the schedule of 5:45am local time my wife and two boys touched down in Dubai. From Melbourne that was 16 hours of mayhem my wife does not want to repeat alone.
I booked a driver to pick me up on the way to Terminal 3 Arrivals. The coordinator was adamant I should be picked up at touch down time, then drive the 15 minutes to the airport from my place and still have plenty of time to spare. But I couldn’t do it. I made it 5:30am, and even then I felt a bit jumpy if they were already there. In fact, the night before I had a very disjointed sleep with similar scenarios playing in my head. At times I woke up probably ever 20 – 30 minutes just to check my alarm.
When I arrived, it was around 5:40am and the board said the plane had just touched down. As Elle would have her hands well and truly full I booked the Marhaba service, which provides a meet and greet service. Apparently the extra flowers thrown in were well-received. It’s a good idea to book this when coming to Dubai to avoid practically any queues. The porterage service is very convenient also for someone weighed down with rugrats.
It felt like an eternity waiting at the Meeting Point for arrivals. I had a relatively clear view of everyone coming, and was in a constant state of readiness for when I spotted them. Each time I saw the shape of a young boy in the distance I would get my hopes up that it was Myles and co., but when they got close enough for me to see it wasn’t them, I’d swear under my breath. All the while, I’m expecting the absolute worst, that the Marhaba people never met them and they’re walking around totally lost and helpless. Almost 40 minutes later, I spotted them. Myles was holding the hand of a young Filipina Marhaba lady. Although he was 70- 80 metres from where I was standing, it was already clear he was talking her ear off. Elle was following with Lewis in a pram. It was quite emotional finally seeing them after five weeks away from them. Thankfully I had my sunglasses.
As they got to the door from Arrivals Myles finally broke sentence with the lady to look out and see me waving frantically. He looked so cool. He had new jeans & shoes, dress shirt (he still avoids wearing anything else), jacket and there was also a kids Emirates backpack they gave (full of toys) diagonally across his chest. He ran up to the glass barrier where I was standing on the other side where we did a brief high five through the glass. Then we walked out to the opening where I got a huge hug from him, once he saw it was alright from the Marhaba lady for him to run off. Elle had a huge smile, which you could tell was 90% relief. And Lewis was looking very curious. And HUGE! My goodness!
I called the driver to swing back around and pick us up which gave Elle enough time to down a rapid fire handful of cigarettes to calm the nerves. I gave the driver a MYLES sign to hold-up, but there were so many cars parked in the pickup area we did the dodgy and just jumped into the car when security weren’t watching. We’d probably still be there if we waited for a car to leave. That situation would never happen in Brisbane. There they make you feel guilty if you take more than a minute to drop someone off. But here I think the cars had been sitting there for hours, the engines weren’t even running. Our driver Zafir displayed the MYLES sign nonetheless, but the effect wasn’t the same.
We got back to the apartment and Myles was immediately curious about the place, and asking where his room was. I pointed out he was staying in the kitchen. He’d usually know I was joking, but in this strange new environment he watched me closely to see if I was being serious. I gave him a clue, that there was a present on his bed, which made him go through each room. He was eventually wrapped to see his room, already with a few of his items that I had packed with me. He was quite impressed with the Emirates Airline Boeing 777 I bought for him. However, he proudly countered it with a complete QANTAS airport set they picked up in MEL. No loyalty at all.
It was probably about 10 minutes later that my nice clean and relatively bare apartment was converted into a very busy and messy, free for all. There were toys EVERYWHERE. And it was absolutely wonderful.
After at least we moved the suitcases into the rooms they belong to, I got Elle and Myles to lie down and catchup on some much needed rest. Lewis on the other hand was not interested in sleeping at all. This was fabulous Daddy and baby time that I had missed so sorely. He’s the same baby, just bigger, stronger and much more intense. He used to love flapping around, but this has been taken to a whole new level. I think he was actually tired as well, but he was so keen to showoff his new tricks. I put him down on a rug to roll around while I started organising a few things around the place. Each time he spotted me walking past where he was, the legs would kick furiously, and the arms would flap up and down with no sense of personal safety. It reminds me of footage I’ve seen of a turtle when they’re caught and lifted out of water. Although Lewis always has a huge grin, which now has two bottom teeth! He’s also on the verge of another accomplishment with him at six months very close to crawling.
Although it was their first day, Myles and I still went for a walk over to City Centre where I had to pick up some final things – including the cot which arrived for pickup. We also walked to the local shop. Myles had asked about sand as soon as he got here, and where I’m staying in Deira it’s quite built-up so you don’t see much. Occasionally though we would pass a little plot where it was clear there was a sand base instead of grass or dirt. To this Myles would screech SAND! with an excited and hysterical sort of look.
The night was interestingly topped off with a minor emergency when I bought Indian takeout. Myles was not too excited with the Rogan Josh, Tikka, Biryani or rice, so he proceeded to make a “pizza” from putting some of the salad onto a Naan. We were just happy he was eating something on top of the snacks he had in the afternoon. However, one thing we didn’t notice was the “green bean” he put on was actually a chilli. As soon as he took a bite I knew what it was from his reaction. I bit a piece also to check it, and it was ___ing HOT! Immediately I got him to wash out his mouth with the OJ he had. Then we went into the kitchen where we each skulled as much milk as we could stomach (almost 2 litres). It was kind of a relief. However, still not enough so I smashed up some ice in a little bag and he just chewed on that until it got back to normal. Elle and I felt absolutely terrible, but the chilli looked so much like a bean, even after we knew what it was. He got an advance on his ice cream, with extra, which helped even more. But we’ve learned our lesson.