Do not weep for I have gone. Rejoice for I have been.

* Today's is not a short post. To do so would do it injustice. 

When someone dies, I don’t think you can ever be totally prepared for it. You can know it’s going to happen, you can talk about it and brace yourself. But when it does, you realize that you were never really prepared because you never can be. It’s out of our control and it’s final. We think we’ve said all we needed to say but then discover there was more. We’ve kissed and hugged and in our mind said goodbye, but then we wish for just one more moment. One more hug. One more kiss. But even that would never be enough.

Death is very personal in its affect on an individual. When someone we know and love dies, we have our own unique way of dealing with it, the memories it provokes and the level of grief we experience. There is no wrong in how we experience loss and grief; it’s as individual as we are. It’s filtered through many layers of our life journey and how that person fit in on our travels.

Me with Aunty Audrey age 6

A week ago I received a phone call that my first foster Mother Audrey Doreen Nicholls had passed away, aged 89. Yes I expected it at some stage – she was 2 months off 90. We can’t live forever even though there is something inherently inside of us that wishes we and others could. I’d visited her a couple of times in her final months and talked it over with my children about the inevitability that her time on earth would come to an end. Aunty Audrey had a long life, longer than anyone I have known personally. Over the past year we have experienced the death of quite a few friends and what I noticed was that each time it got closer and closer. Distant friends to start with; then someone in our congregation; then a friend from my bible college days, not long after a friend we’d known for a few years followed by a friend we’d known for much longer. Finally – family. And each step of the way we experienced the sadness and grief at the level we knew them. The two that were our friends hit us hardest, but none harder than Aunty Audrey.

You see, with the passing of my foster mother came the end of a particular era of my life that I have held so dear to my heart for decades. Aunty Audrey’s husband Uncle Alan passed away 3 years ago, so leaving us as the next generation.

I want to take this opportunity to say something about my 'Dad.' The other day my foster sister said that he was strict but it's funny that it wasn't something I remembered about him. I remember that he was so gentle and, well, joyful - if that makes sense (you can see that in the photo). He loved us and he loved to spend time with all his girls. He was a hard worker and a doting father and I remember him with such fondness. He was quiet and thoughtful and loved by many. They were an amazing pair in my eyes. Aunty Audrey and Uncle Alan - well they just went together!

Louise and I with Uncle Alan aged 6.

I don’t know what it’s like to lose a close mother, as many have experienced, none more recent than my foster sisters Carolyn and Carmel, and brother-in-law Rodney (though Rodney wasn't an 'in-law' - he was a son in every sense of the word). I don’t know what that feels like and in some way, maybe I’m the lucky one. The depth of that loss must be beyond our human understanding. I wonder what it would be like to be born, or live with a woman who loves you unconditionally, sees you through all the milestones of your life, loving you, hugging you, and being there for you.

But I have a glimpse of what it would have been like because of my Aunty Audrey. In some way, my level of grief is different because my circumstance and relationship with her was different. She was a big presence in my entire life, even though living with her was relatively brief in its years. Having said that, the years I lived with her were the most formative years for a child and in that time her love and care for me entered deep in my heart. 

Let me tell you a little of my story.

I was born into a family who were young, scared and dysfunctional. We were the third and fourth children (twins) of 4 children under the age of 4 (and three children under the age of 10 mths). My parents were only 23 years of age and desperately trying to find their way in life having found themselves married and pregnant at the age of 19. Neither of them had had a stable enough upbringing to allow them to settle down and raise 4 children, nor was their relationship destined to last. So after they split soon after my birth, things rapidly declined until at around 12 months of age when my mother gave us all up. Being 24 and not quite ready to grow up, being bogged down with little children wasn’t high on her agenda. We were all put in Allambee, a children’s home in Melbourne, before my twin and I were transferred to Bethany Babies home in Geelong. After a period of time our mother took back the older 2 (even though they were only older by a very small margin!) but decided she was unable to care for us twins. She made the decision to separate our family forever and put the two of us up for adoption.

At the same time, a family in Geelong, after experiencing their own tragedy, had decided they wanted to foster a child for the long term. They already had two daughters of their own, Carolyn 7 and Carmel 5 and were soon given the go ahead to be the first foster parents in Geelong (of which I only recently discovered). Soon after they received a phone call that 2 year old twin girls needed a placement and they didn’t hesitate. Thus we were to enter their family and begin the most incredible 5 years of our lives.

The earliest photo of Louise and I when we first went to the Nicholls. Age approx 2.

I have been born with a very good memory which at times works for me and at times against me. But for this period of my life, it definitely worked for me. I have lots of memories of our time in Geelong having etched in my mind names, dates, our address and the many fun experiences we had. We were never treated as foster kids but embraced and loved not only by that family, but by the extended family as well. We had a Grandma, Aunts and Uncles and cousins. In fact, only recently I was looking through some old memorabilia that Aunty Audrey had given me many years ago, and have kept birthday cards from my many ‘Aunts, Uncles and Cousins.’ Life was ‘normal’ for the first time in our young lives. We had birthday’s and birthday parties, blow up pools out the front, sleepovers at Grandma’s, car rides, holidays at the beach, starting school – and all the formative things that happen in those years. It was fun. It was love. It was secure and I was so happy. I remember that, being so happy and so loved. My foster parents, known as Mum and Dad at that time, were the most loving people you could meet. Having come from the first year or two of neglect and things no child should experience, it perhaps seemed bigger in our little minds than it would to most.

Grandma.

Aunty Dee.

I remember sitting on Uncle Alan’s knee and combing his hair and then swapping with my sister so I could cut his toenails. I remember being hugged and kissed and lights being kept on in the passage because I slept walked. Aunty Audrey kept that light on for many years after we’d gone. I remember being the special one at school because we had jelly and custard cups for our birthday. I remember being in trouble and having my bottom smacked like most kids in those days. But we never felt abused as unfortunately we seem to think these days a smack on the backside is. In fact, it made me feel loved and secure and a very big part of that family. I remember playing ‘school’ with my older sisters who taught me to read and write before I even started school – something I attribute to being a good reader and writer today. I remember dress ups and getting a bag of lollies as a consolation prize because the big kids always seemed to win. I remember Carolyn playing the guitar and we singing, and somewhere I still have a tape of us kids all singing together. I remember the country club we were very involved in and singing ‘You are my Sunshine’ and ‘Rock a my soul in the bosom of Abraham.’

Carolyn, Carmel, Louise and I at Kryal Castle.

Our sisters, Carolyn, Carmel, Louise and I.

Gosh those were fun days. I’m enjoying this, taking a trip down memory lane. Not that these memories were ever far from me. They were going to be so pivotal in seeing me through the next 9 years of my life that the time with the Nicholls had become more special than any other time in my life. Perhaps I made it bigger in my mind because I had to grasp hold of that love and make it last a very long time. And it was so good that it managed to last a lifetime.

What I find interesting is that the more I sat and thought about Aunty Audrey, they more I realised that I have many of her personality traits. I guess it’s not that surprising, even the Catholic church recognizes that what is instilled in a child up until the age of 7 is almost impossible to undo after that. Aunty Audrey was strong, determined, had very definite opinions and advise to give, was a great cook, loved music and had a wicked sense of humour. I believe I am very much the person I am today because of the same determination that she had, to rise above the hard knocks of life and get on with it. One thing I would also say about Aunty Audrey, she loved unconditionally and forgave deeply. It didn’t matter where I went in life, or how much contact I had, she was always there with open arms to welcome me ‘home.’ She loved me unconditionally and forever. She treated me the same and I knew my twin and I were her ‘girls.’

Aunty Audrey's 'other' girls - aged 5. I still own this dress.

Life is cruel sometimes and I take my hat off to Aunty Audrey in the capacity she had to ride the hard waves. I’m sure I got that from her. She and Uncle Alan wanted to adopt us but for reasons I don’t even know, it wasn’t to be. They weren’t allowed to and at the age of 7 we were taken from them to be placed in another longer term foster placement. It was at this age that we moved to Morwell where we would live for the next 9 years in a family who already had 4 older children and a history of their own. Being taken from Aunty Audrey and Uncle Alan broke their hearts and as a result, they never fostered again. Perhaps this alone makes our relationship even more unique and special.

I’d love to be able to say that the love, security and fun we had continued, but it did not. In fact the contrast between foster homes could not have possibly been any more different. All that was with the Nicholls ceased to exist and we were left in a cold, lonely and dark existence. In the early days the yearning for the Nicholls was unbearable, even to the point where I remember desperately trying to walk from Morwell to Geelong to get back to them. I did everything I could for the welfare to come and take me back, I began to steal and I became the angriest and most difficult 7 year old this side of Melbourne! And after a few months when the reality of the situation got hold of me, something inside of me died. I changed, and the carefree, loved, happy little girl was gone. Finding her was going to take every effort on my part and it wasn’t going to happen for many many years to come.

For 9 long years I simply had to exist, and somehow just wait to grow up. They may have taken my family and left me with these people who fed and clothed me, but they could never take my memories. So the time with the Nicholls became bigger and more precious than anything I ever had. I would sit outside for hours living in a lifetime away from the present, to a past where I had a family who loved me. I held on to that time so strongly that I might as well have been there all my life. Just the word ‘Nicholls’ would invoke in me a connection that no time, no distance and no lack of contact could ever replace.

When I was 14 years old Aunty Audrey, Carolyn, Carmel and Grandma came to visit. Oh it was the most exciting day of my 9 years and nothing had changed between us. 7 years had seemed like forever until I saw them, and then it was as if I had only seen them yesterday. It gave me the strength to hold on for a couple more years until at the age of 16 I left Morwell. That alone is quite another story, and one I will tell separately to this, but it just seemed inevitable that I would end up back at the Nicholls for a period of time. And no-one could take us away from them after that!! But I was growing up and I’d now changed in other ways so it wasn’t long before I was off to explore and experience the world for myself.

I wasn’t always good over the years at keeping in touch with the Nicholls. I was young, selfish, angry and hurt – not at them, just at life and the blows I had been dealt. I spent years dealing with depression, anxiety, low self-worth and self-hatred. In fact, these emotions took me up until I was 30 when I surrendered to a serious bout of Anorexia Nervosa. But that in itself is also another story. But in my self-inwardness, I didn’t reach out to the one family whom I knew loved me unconditionally. But they were there, always waiting, always faithful, always loving and always their ‘girl.’

But what happens in life is that time doesn’t stand still and we get older and move towards the end of our own time here on earth. How blessed we have been that Aunty Audrey lived such a long life, though part of that is definitely because of the care her daughters and son-in-law gave her. In her and her husband’s later years, her children cared for them in ways many of us wouldn’t. I am in awe of them and their dedication to their parents. I wondered whether I would do the same if I was in the same position. But given that I probably won’t be, I don’t need to answer that.

Carmel, Carolyn and Rodney with their Mum (sorry guys - I pinched the photo!).
They took amazing care of both their parents.

Now, let me be clear. Aunty Audrey wasn’t perfect. I only know that because none of us are!! But to me she was because she had such an amazing capacity to love in the face of her own tragedies in life. We all make mistakes and none of us can ever be perfect as parents. I know because I have children to remind me! But I have learnt that although we make mistakes, it’s the unconditional love of a parent that overrides anything that we can do wrong. Love really does cancel out many of our failings and lasts longer than any grudge.

This year as Aunty Audrey’s life was coming to a close, I did have the privilege of seeing her a couple of times and having some ‘alone’ time with her. I will treasure that time until the day I die. While the family were having some much needed time for a cuppa, I stayed with her and we had a chat. I felt the same bond with her as I had as a child as this time I held her hand and reminisced of bygone days when we were carefree and happy. I had the opportunity to thank her for making me who I am because the love she gave me helped me to raise above my own struggles and become who I am today. I could be a completely different person today, angry, resentful and a victim – but I am not. I am happy, content and I have forgiven and moved on. I have taken all that I have lived through and used it to my benefit. I have forgiven and I have let go. I have understood the actions of others and released them to be all that they were created to be. I have the capacity to love others because God loves me, and also because I was taught what love ‘looks’ like when I was just a small child.

You see, love is not just a word. Love is an action. Love speaks. Love in its purest form enters your heart and changes you. It cancels out wrongs. It anchors us. Love anchored me even when many other issues were dumped on top of it. When the layers were peeled off, it was that love of a mother that was still there, real, alive and ready to be passed on to my own children. I have had other mothers, but neither of them were able to give me what Aunty Audrey did and for that I will be forever grateful. She will live in my heart, in my memories and ultimately in my children as I take a part of her and carry on her legacy.

Our last photo - 'Granny Audrey.'

I also want to thank Carolyn, Carmel and Rodney for graciously sharing their mother with my twin and I. I don’t think this is easy. In my second foster placement, their daughter was not able to do this and to this day I have no contact with them because she wasn’t able to share ‘her’ mother. But Carolyn, Carmel and Rodney did – selflessly and wholeheartedly. They embraced us as their sisters and never wavered in that. Life has taken us all in different directions but we always come back together in a bond developed so long ago that has never been able to be broken. We have Aunty Audrey to thank for that. But from my heart I am ever so grateful to them for sharing such a beautiful lady and allowing her to be something to me that is more precious than anything you could give me on earth.

Together for the last time. January 2014 (minus Carmel).

So this is my goodbye. I was bestowed one of the greatest honours I think anyone can be given when I gave the Eulogy at her funeral. It was harder than I thought because I wanted to say so much. But I know I said what needed to be said and people heard what couldn't be said.

I have a letter I wrote as a 7 year old who had been taken from her ‘Mum.’ It’s worth noting that I never felt pain from leaving my birth mother or my second foster mother. The only pain I ever experienced from being taken from my mother was from Aunty Audrey. My second foster parents wouldn’t allow contact so there are just a few letters I was allowed to send. I shall end this blog with one of them.

“Dear Dad and Mum. I love you. 
Thank you for the $2 you sent me, it was good.
 I am at school now. I am doing well at school.

 Love from Nicole. 

I really love you."