goodbye, 2014
I hadn’t planned a departure from these pages. And indeed, I’m happy to be back. The days leading up to Christmas were as busy for me as they were for so many of you. The sort of busyness that sees you pushing through extreme fatigue and promising yourself that you’ll do laundry, dishes and grocery shopping tomorrow—for absolute certain. Then BAM! tomorrow arrives, and you’re bumping it all ahead just one more day. Without a family gift exchange this year, I bought only two presents for two small children I’ve recently gotten to know, and gave them the afternoon of Christmas eve. There’s something about the look of anticipation and unbridled excitement that only children have when a gift is unwrapped, that brings pure joy to anyone watching.
I grocery shopped early Christmas eve and couldn’t wait to get home to plug-in the kettle and plonk down on the couch. I wrestled with myself over doing laundry and picking up around the apartment. In the end, the chance to have a couple of hours of downtime before meeting Zoë and Aaron for an evening Carol service won. Laundry could wait. There was tea at hand, a few emails returned, and a catch-up phone call with a close friend with wishes for a happy Christmas. And then it was time to step out into the night to meet my girl and son-in-law.
I remember: Getting off the streetcar and rushing to cross the road where we were meeting. My boot hitting something hard and sailing over it. The impact of the ground when my chest hit. Then my shoulder. My wrist. My knee. A woman calling out, “Can you get up?”. Opening my eyes and seeing headlights coming down the road. Trying to reach for my knee, the pain pounding in my ribs, pulling me down, my arm caught beneath me. Telling her, “I need my daughter! I need Zoë”. A light being shined in my eyes and someone telling me it was IMPORTANT to keep them open. Fighting sleep … The sound of my daughter’s voice from far away, “Mum, I’m here”. Cold air hitting both legs when my jeans were cut open. Sleep … sleep … Eyes closing. Stickers on my chest in the ambulance. A loud voice asking so many questions: Had I been drinking? No. My chest hurts. My chests hurts! Did I do drugs? No. My chest hurts. My chest hurts. How did I fall? My chest hurts … My knee hurts … Please! Searing pain and tears pulling my eyelids closed, keeping them closed … My children came to hospital, all but the youngest who was with his dad that night.
I missed Christmas. It was turned upside down for everyone. My daughter had been inside the church when the accident happened; I was on the road, just outside. Three weeks before, for some odd reason, I’d gone through my phone and appended “daughter” and “son” to each of my children’s names just in case … I was afraid to complete that thought, wouldn’t let myself, but felt compelled to take that action. And when that woman took my phone from my coat pocket as I lay on the road, she found my daughter’s name and dialed her.
I’m home and I’m healing. I slept round the clock for the first four days, pumped full of Rx pain meds. But no longer, they do my head in. I have tinctures for pain, swelling and bruising from my sister-in-law, a homeopathic doctor, who spent an entire day nursing me. I have a collection of vitamins, an anti-inflammatory and restorative food from Zoë. I have help and SO damn much love from my other three: Eli, Kaz and Kieran, and my son-in-law, Aaron.
I’m tired. I hurt. It’s hard to breathe deeply, to get comfortable. I’m not sleeping well. My energy is extremely low. But I’m here on this last day of the year! And I’m healing. 2015: A year for self-care, in so many ways.
I don’t have any year-end review. No pithy observations or final thoughts. No collected photos to share. Only this one. Yesterday I popped an empty frame over this string of letters that’s been taped to my bedroom wall. It’s good to be here. I hope your last day of the year holds some quiet time for reflection, and so damn much love.
See you soon, friends. X
Bless you! Hope your pain will quickly become a memory, and 2015 be blessed.
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Darlin’ Jacquie,
So glad you had and have thoughtful loving people around you! What a frightening and horrible thing to have happened to you. Good to know you are being well taken care of with the practical as well as the heartfelt. May you recover quickly. Sending even more love and hugs your way to add to the ever present love of family and other friends. All the best to you and your kin for 2015. There is a sense of possibility that I feel and an embracing of the simple and the beauty of nature and creativity. I wish to build on this perspective for it lightens my spirit and expands my heart and my thoughts. Hope to share ideas, dreams and such with you really soon.
O
Heather
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Get well soon! You had a rough year, may 2015 be a very good one. Take care of yourself! Sending good thoughts your way!
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Gentle hugs and healing thoughts sent your way. Keep gazing at your simply lovely “mantra” BLISS with the gorgeous floral washi tape. That sign alone could heal me!
x
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Wishing you a speedy recovery!
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What a dreadful and frightening experience, but so very pleased to hear you have a lot of love around you. Please go slowly and give yourself plenty of time to recover. If only I weren’t half way around the world, I’d bring you soup and tell you face-to-face how inspiring your blog is. You have a huge talent with styling homewares and with words. Take care and a speedy recovery this new year. xoxoxox
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So glad to hear that you are home and healing. Blessed be ~p
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These things can happen so quickly yet the results – ouchness! and concern – can stay for much longer. Healing thoughts coming your way. x
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