King Ferdi + The Little Rat

Ferdi was the physically challenged long hair, the runt of the litter I picked up from an odd little hobby farm in the outer suburbs of north west Sydney, desperate to add a dog to our instant family. He was tiny and had a broken tail (a pig had stepped on it), and as soon as I held him in my hands I knew I wasn't handing him back. Elfi came a year later - Ferdi looked so sad all the time, we thought he needed a friend. We had moved to Hong Kong by then. I found a breeder and a pup in Melbourne, sent my Mum to check her out, and a few weeks later she flew over; so little and so full of energy. But Ferdi still looked sad. (Turns out, that's just how he looked.)

King Ferdi and the Little Rat. Their respective nicknames tell you a bit about their standing in the family hierarchy. According to Sean, Ferdi was the most perfect creature that ever lived, even with his overbite and crooked tail and inability to jump. Ferdi was incredibly stubborn, he always knew exactly what he wanted (not to walk on the grass, not to walk in the rain, not to walk on a lead...). As long as you let Ferdi do his thing, he was happy to live his life with minimal fuss. He was calm and quiet and entirely himself. 

Elfi, on the other hand, was demanding, neurotic and needy. If you were patting Ferdi she would charge over, pushing him out of the way with scant regard for his well-being. She talked, constantly. She yelped to remind you she needed love, attention and human grade food every waking hour. And she always wanted to be with you - on your lap, at your feet. She inserted herself into everything. 

The general consensus in the household was that Elfi was annoying, too loud, a bully. Ferdi, however, was a noble, thoughtful, wise creature. I, of course, went out of my way to love and defend Elfi. She was the underdog. She was my dog. She was my shadow.

I say was because a little over a week ago I had to say goodbye to her. She was 16 (-ish) and had dementia, a suspected brain lesion plus all the symptoms of lymphoma. She was dropping weight rapidly, no matter how much I fed her or what meds she was on. It was the toughest decision. She was going down hill quickly which was really difficult to see, but...she still got excited at dinnertime, she still loved a good scratch on her haunch. 

I miss her like crazy. I haven't been able to pack her bed away yet, and my heart still drops every time I put the key in the front door and realise she's not home. There's no excited tippy taps to greet me.

And it's even harder for my brain to process because the end of Elfi also signifies the end of an era. That household I'm talking about, is no more. Sean died four years ago (how tf is it four years? so short, so long...), Ferdi two years later. I sold the house we bought and built together. My step-sons have girlfriends and apartments and whole other lives (well, one does, the other lives in a granny flat / mansion out the back of my place, but still - he is very self-sufficient). 

Life moves on, that's what it does. And it takes you with it. I'm busy building new memories - with a new house, new dogs, new people - but I hope Sean and Ferdi and Elfi know that I think of them every single day. I hope they find each other, wherever they are. And I hope they know that I am okay, that I am happy.

Safe Travels My Friend

Mostly, I'm okay. But occasionally I have these days where I am so bereft, so lonely and sad, so physically heart broken that it's almost impossible to pull myself out of it. Today is one of those days. Coming home to no Sean is the worst, and it's magnified on the weekends, especially after a hectic day at work. Sean was my actual best friend, and sometimes I miss him so much I can't breathe (not COVID-19, promise). He was my favourite person; one of the few people in this world that understood me, and loved me.

One of the things I've found that calms my mind on these nights is reading the eulogy I wrote for Sean. It might seem strange, that this would calm me, but it does. The eulogy reminds me of our life together, and how wonderful it was; it makes me smile. It reminds me that I had the strength to stand up and read this at his service, that I got to say goodbye the way I wanted to. So, here it is...

*******

We all know Sean loved a list, so here we go.

This is a list of Things Sean Taught Me. It is by no means a comprehensive list or else we'd never get to the pub... 

1. One of the biggest things Sean taught me was to be smarter, wittier, sharper. I'm not saying I'm smart, witty, or sharp - that's for you all to decide - but I am saying Sean pushed me to use my brain, more so than anyone else. He had expectations of me, and those expectations included being smart. He loved to argue, and would often play devil's advocate just to push the discussion a little further. With Sean, I could never just have an opinion, I had to be able to back my opinion up, explain it, argue it, and maybe even *sometimes* convince him of it. 

2. When making a decision, or dealing with a tricky situation, Sean taught me to think through all the possibilities and consequences but also to keep things simple, to not forget the big picture. When it came to McDonald’s, he was a genius at analysing the business and the individuals in the business. He’d think through all sorts of scenarios and possible impacts. But in the end, he always reminded me (and anyone else that would listen) - it’s just about selling tasty cheeseburgers. 

3. How to keep a sink dry. It’s a Sydney thing, apparently… 

4. To pay attention to the lyrics. If you liked a song, saying it’s just got a nice vibe was never a good enough answer for Sean. 

5. To take very seriously the things that matter, and realise that everything else is nonsense. The list of things that mattered to Sean was pretty short - dachshunds, his sons, his family, reason and logic, education, respect for the past, quarter pounders. These things he did not mess with. But - everything else was free game in this ludicrous, nonsensical thing we call life. 

6A. How to travel, and more specifically how to drink coffee and eat meals in Italy. There are rules, and Sean taught me them. 

6B. Related - how to say ‘two large beers please’ in basically every European language. Dave - I think you maybe learnt this lesson too. 

7. How to drive a manual car on the Italian motorway. 

Just joking, that was a lesson I never learnt. We tried it once, for about ten minutes. It ended in three near fatal accidents, stalling at a three way intersection with a large truck bearing down on us, and me sobbing behind the wheel. Sean drove in Italy from then on. 

8. That good things are better than not good things - a good song is better than a not good song, a good painting is better than a not good painting. This was something I always intuitively knew, but he gave me words for it. In recent years there was a lot of discussion about this long standing belief. 

Sean was trying to rank Bohemian Rhapsody against a composition by Bach, and Joe suggested that the theory didn’t hold up when comparing across such different genres. But Sean held firm, so throughout his day we’d randomly ask him to compare and rank different things: Hey Sean - what’s better, a kiwi fruit or a llama? (A llama, of course...)

9. Sean taught me that steak is a good thing. I'd been a vegetarian for about eight years when I met Sean. After our first dinner out I was no longer a vegetarian. I remember the waiter saying - jeepers, if you’re willing to eat a medium rare steak for him this has got to be something really special. And it was. 

10. How to get a crowd talking. Every family dinner or social function, Sean came prepared. Not with small talk, but with conversation prompters. He had the attention span of a gnat and he needed us all to amuse him. Sometimes it was a quiz, sometimes it was a pack of cards, sometimes it was a controversial question - we spent a whole December once discussing seatbelt laws at every, single xmas function we attended...

Sean always had something up his sleeve to engage those around him and get people talking. Even if sometimes the talking was DO WE REALLY HAVE TO DO THE DAMN QUIZ? Can’t we just talk, like normal people? No, Jen, no we can’t… 

11. How to listen when someone speaks. Sean taught me to stop thinking about my reply when someone is talking, and instead to pay attention to what they’re saying, to be curious. Sean taught me to focus on their story, not on what I have to say about it. 

12. That it’s okay to be a little bit odd, sometimes. We were both a little bit odd, sometimes. It’s part of the reason we worked so well. 

13. To be proud of my strengths and honest about my weaknesses. 

14. And this is a big one, how to be a parent. One of the things I am truly grateful for is that being with Sean gave me an instant family with Sam and Joe, and to some extent Pepe as well, not to mention the whole extended Newton clan, who welcomed me into their fold (after a few initial reservations, but that’s a story for another time), plus the amazing Macca’s family. 

I remember first meeting the boys when they were 6 and 8. We went to Taronga Zoo together. I was completely utterly terrified. But Sean was so happy - he loved me, and he loved his boys, and he couldn’t see any reason why we wouldn’t all just love each other. Sean always made an effort to include me, especially in those early days - drawing me into the conversation, making sure I felt a part of the family. 

Thank you also to Pepe, for letting me be a part of raising Sam and Joe, for trusting Sean and therefore trusting me. A lot of people don’t get it, but we do - everything was and is about the boys. 

15. And lastly, Sean taught me that odd numbers were better than even numbers. Hence this last point so I finish on 15, not 14. 

I am so grateful that I found Sean, that he found me. I am so grateful that I got to experience his humour, intelligence, and love for life; that he wanted to take the time to teach me these things. 

I know every single one of you will have your own lists of things Sean taught you, or at least had a damn good crack at trying to teach you. And he never did it with arrogance, it was always with joy, openness, and humility. 

Sean, I love you. 

I miss you, terribly. 

But  - I also know you will live on through all the things we’ve learnt, from you. 

Safe travels my friend. 

Grief is a Bitch and Other Random Thoughts

After feeling surprisingly upbeat recently I've been a bit all over the goddamn place the past week or so, so I'm writing because that's what I do. (I also feel that if I can't revive a blog during a pandemic when it's basically illegal to leave the house then when the heck will I ever revive it? Also some thoughts are too long and rambling to constrain to Facebook posts or Instagram stories. So.) 

- Grief is a bitch. It sneaks up on you. Just when you think you've got your shit a bit sorted and even possibly you may be facing sunnier days something comes along and BAM there you are all sad and alone and heartbroken again. And then you get up, again, feeling okay but bracing for the next wave. 

- You don't have good days and bad days, you have good hours and bad hours.

- Some days I just get so sick of being sad. Some days I deliberately don't look at photos of Sean. Some days I deliberately don't listen to our favourite songs, or watch our favourite shows. Some days I am manically looking for anything new. Some days I need a break from remembering. 

- Sydney in Autumn is pure magic. The warm days and crips evenings; the cool, crystal clear nights. The colours on the trees, the afternoon light. Magic. 

- I have realised lately that I don't just miss Sean, I also miss being Sean's wife. I miss taking care of someone I loved, I miss doing little things every day to make him happy. I miss the routine, the daily interactions, the working together. 

- The trauma of being with Sean when he died will be with me forever. It will / has changed me. I have to figure out how to move forward with that.

- I am swearing more than usual lately. I think I get a free pass on that though.

- A few signs it really is the end of times: I actually crave video chats right now; I am listening to music recommended to me by young people and I like it; I have completed two jigsaw puzzles and am about to start on a third. 

- I am so grateful that I still get to go to work everyday and interact with a bunch of awesome people who really do give their all whilst also being funny and interesting and entertaining, They make me so proud to be their boss and, most days, they give me the strength to deal with the trash fire that has been 2020. 

- I loudly said 'hello' to a dog outside the supermarket the other night and thought well that probably sounded a bit crazy and then noticed the guy right behind me also took the time to say 'aren't you a good boy' as he walked past. So, maybe we are all mad. 

- Things I'm really looking forward to post lockdown: hanging out with my sister; going out for dinner (anyone else exhausted by having to decide what to cook / order / eat every damn night?); catching up over wine or coffee; getting my lashes done, getting waxed; seeing a play or movie or exhibition or live gig, or anything that's not my Instagram feed really...oh and TRAVEL, in all caps. 

- Things I quite like about lockdown: not having awkward interactions with food delivery drivers; people showing so much gratitude for posties and cleaners and nurses; having a narrowed focus on what's really important, today; less emails; a sense of community returning; notes to and from my neighbours. 

- I'm going to miss my long late night walks when we all return to 'normal'. There is such a quiet calm late at night, no traffic. The skies have been so incredibly still and clear, and there's a warm glow from all the full houses. You can often overhear snippets of heartfelt conversation, or smell a delicious dinner. On Fridays and Saturdays there's always people out on their verandahs and balconies, sharing a physically distanced bottle of wine or loudly figuring out a playlist over Zoom. It is my current favourite thing. 

I hope you have found a favourite thing during these strange times. 

I hope you are holding on to the bits of your sanity that matter to you.

And I very much look forward to seeing you all on the other side of this x