In the Heart of a Bush Girl
At some point something goes off in your brain and tells you it is time to make a change & something has got to give. For a long while, I figured I was still young so what the heck, may as well live it up. But then I had a major life moment.
You know those moments that change everything & you realize in that split second things will never be the same again. How people handle these situations, shows their real character, resilience & strength.
I can recall a few of these moments in my life, they tend to leave a mark, like a scar on the skin that fades but is still visible & reminds you of a memory years ago.
When I was 10 years old my grandmother was diagnosed with brain cancer, we travelled from a remote cattle station in Western Australia to a small town in Central West Queensland. We travelled night and day, only briefly stopping on the side of the road for a sleep.
I assume the news must have come in quite abruptly because next thing I knew, we were on the road during winter, with no blankets or plan. We all tried to share what we had in the car, I recall my father’s navy coat, it just managed to cover my toes.
The disease had spread quickly, when my family of 4 had arrived, she was already into chemotherapy & had lost all her hair. She came out of the house with a huge smile on her face & an African themed bandana wrapped around her head.
It was unclear how long she had, only that the numerous tumours on her brain were deteriorating her condition. We waited for months, watching as her dignity was stripped from her, piece by piece. Family came and claimed items that they wanted, that they felt they should have when she passed. Vultures.
After 3 and a half months, things became too hard to do on our own with the facilities we had. She needed proper care, proper bathing options, proper accessibility & pain relief. My gran finally moved into the hospital; we visited her every day. Every day we said good morning, every day we worked on our 1000piece puzzle, every day we watch M.A.S.H & every day we said goodbye.
I missed my home, my dog & my life, I started becoming frustrated at how this was impacting my life. My parents started running out of money, having to borrow from friends, since the bank would not loan to them, on the basis that they had been out of work for 4 months.
The day that my grandmother passed, was the only morning I did not say good morning. At first, I felt incredibly guilty and that I had caused it, I thought that perhaps she had decided it was time, because I had grown tired of it all & figured the others had too.
If so, I now find peace in the fact that she was so selfless, to give us just enough time with her & then drift away. Or perhaps, it had nothing to do with choice & death just simply is.
Death is a peculiar thing, it may seem obvious, but it is so unnaturally quiet, it has this feeling of complete emptiness yet also complete peace. She looked as though she was just asleep, I held her hand in mine, so frail & lifeless. We said our final goodbyes & I kissed her on the cheek, I was taken back by how cold she was.
I was so glad to finally be home, back in my own bed, back with my dog Brandy, breathing my own fresh open air, getting back into my favourite routine, everything could go back to normal. But nothing ever would.
My parents grew up in Walgett NSW, they met in high school, my mother was 2 years younger & had a crush on Jason. They had a few flings, but when dad started going down the wrong path & was caught in the park getting high at 16, gran sent him up north to sort himself out.
Dad worked up in WA on cattle stations and in contract camps for numerous years and became the head stockman at Carlton Hill at 21 years old. He met Nicole again sometime down the track & had a little boy, they started living near Narran Lakes but WA called again & they returned to Kununurra.
Dad worked in town at Kimberley conveyor belts, mum fell pregnant again and had a little girl, 2 years after Logan. The bush started calling again, and dad finally accepted a job on Napier Downs, as the head stockman. I recall this being an incredibly happy time, the picturesque range & the regular holidays to Broome. I truly cherish the years I had growing up on Napier.
Years had passed, and some family friends asked my parents to take on a management role at Kalyeeda station. I was hesitant about the moved, but did not have much choice in the matter, being all that of 8.
Kalyeeda came to grow on me, from chasing desert lizards across the red dirt with my dog, exploring the dense native flora & trying to dodge the 3 fully grown sand goannas that would regularly make themselves at home, in the mess shed.
To be continued…
