RHYME OR REASON?
A favourite expression of my father’s was “there is no rhyme or reason to any of this”. He would be relaying a story about something that had happened that he just couldn’t possibly understand.
Being a logical bloke, everything needed to make sense.
How difficult that must have been in a family of 6 females. Being surrounded all the time by half a dozen women, bloody hell.
My dad was one on the team of computer technicians when computers first hit Australia. They were the size of a small room, he said. I was a child not understanding the real impact of it all.
It wasn’t until I was working in my first job that a computer was introduced to me as a quicker way of creating correspondence however, I really did not want to know about them, probably based on my Dad’s negative view of computers in general.
It was 1967 and I was working for a company called The Union-Fidelity Trustee Company. Very, very proud of my position as receptionist, loving my new boyfriend who had a car to drive me around and not realizing at that early age how much I had grown into being just like my mother.
Not being allowed the opportunity of completing year 12 at high school or heaven forbid achieving a science qualification which I truly wanted with a passion, wanting to understand how things happened and why substances affected our world and ourselves.
Absolutely not, I was a girl for goodness sakes, there is no rhyme or reason in Dad’s belief system as to why a girl would want an education. They get married and have kids and in that time after leaving school and getting married, they work in offices or shops, that’s it.
So of course, the day after I left school, I was told to go to the city and not come home until I had a job.
So, I did.
Started the following week, a couple of months before my sixteenth birthday.
Attracting Bob Milton, I hopelessly fell in love. We got married four days after my 18th birthday by talking my father into allowing this. Girls were supposed to be 21 before they were allowed to get married. Having two older sisters and two younger sisters was an advantage with the decision.
We bought a caravan and hit the outback and had a ball.
Came back only to have a child, Ben and then Bob wanted me to have another very quickly, so we had Rebecca.
I loved my kids more than my own life and more than my life with Bob.
The marriage failed and the three of us grew together through thick and thin, mainly finances.
The bond was stronger than anything on earth.
I forced Bob to be a good dad. He involved his girlfriends with Ben and Rebecca and I hated that, but they never knew, I just wanted them to love him like I loved him.
He died when they were 14 and 15 years old.
Both Ben and Rebecca are victims of misplaced love.
I had no way of teaching them skills which I lacked in myself.
Ben chose a woman who has displayed mental distress to me on several occasions. Ben’s suppression of his hurt, guilt, lost and unresolved grief created a kidney disorder. He has not shared with me the pain of what he, inside his body, has endured for over 20 years.
Rebecca took longer. When our relationship was failing, I wrote a letter called “I’m not dead yet” and it was completely misinterpreted to what my intention was. I was reaching out, wanting to protect.
Maybe wanting to protect myself as well.
Rather than talking about it, she shut me out.
There is no rhyme or reason and I seek and never find.
When I was diagnosed with cancer at the same time as my second eldest son, Simon, she waited until he was through his treatment, successfully, thank goodness, to fly back home from England where she has lived for years, to celebrate with him. I was told she will be here for just one week.
Rebecca refused to acknowledge me; arriving the same day as my second chemotherapy treatment however ignored my very existence through no interaction on any level.
There was, in my opinion, no rhyme or reason for such a despicable act and hit at a level in my heart I had never experienced before. Continuously working through positive affirmations helped tremendously.
On the 6th day after chemo and feeling like absolute shit, I made the decision to go and visit my little grandson, Enzo who I have every Thursday morning with so much love.
He taught me my lesson for the week and maybe for my life and yes there is no rhyme or reason to it, I know it is spot on.
And here it is in the form of an email which I’ve just written to my favourite support person, Joy.
She sent me this attachment from an angel:
In this story, God is creating the Universe. And on the sixth day, God decides to work extra late in order to create the first woman.
What happens next is not only extremely touching, but it reminds us just how important it is to love and appreciate each and every woman in our lives — from our grandmothers, mothers, and sisters, to our girlfriends and wives.
“When God created Woman, he was working late on the sixth day.
An Angel came by and asked, ‘Why spend so much time on her?’
The Lord answered, ‘Have you seen all the specifications I have to meet to shape her?’
‘She must function on all kinds of situations.
She must be able to embrace several kids at the same time, have a hug that can heal anything from a bruised knee to a broken heart.
She must do all this with only two hands.
She cures herself when sick and can work 18 hours a day.’”
“The Angel was impressed. ‘Just two hands? Impossible! And this is the standard model?’
The Angel came closer and touched the woman. ‘But you have made her so soft, Lord.’
‘She is soft,’ said the Lord, ‘but I have made her strong. You can’t imagine what she can endure and overcome.’”
“‘Can she think?’ the Angel asked.
The Lord answered, ‘Not only can she think, she can reason and negotiate.’
The Angel touched her cheeks. ‘Lord, it seems this creation is leaking! You have put too many burdens on her.’
‘She is not leaking. It is a tear,’ the Lord corrected the Angel.
‘What’s it for?’ asked the Angel.
The Lord said, ‘Tears are her way of expressing her grief, her doubts, her love, her loneliness, her suffering and her pride.’”
The Lord said, ‘Indeed she is. She has strength that amazes a man. She can handle trouble and carry heavy burdens. She holds happiness, love and opinions.
‘She smiles when she feels like screaming. She sings when she feels like crying, cries when happy and laughs when afraid. She fights for what she believes in.
‘Her love is unconditional. Her heart is broken when a next-of-kin or a friend dies but she finds strength to get on with life.’”
“This made a big impression on the Angel. ‘Lord, you are a genius. You thought of everything. A woman is indeed marvelous.’
“The Angel asked, ‘So she is a perfect being?’
The Lord replied, ‘No. She has just one drawback.’
‘She often forgets what she is worth.’”
And this is how I responded:
This means so much to me and agree totally, we don’t value our true worth.
And then something happens to us, and often our bodies, and we’re reminded about how truly strong we are.
Letting this Rebecca thing go and know that she will suffer because she is not like this. I know her more than she knows her. I made her for goodness sakes.
Trying to protect her from the guilt she will experience, by making sure she visits me, is lost.
Another day went by however when I woke up this morning, 6 days after chemo, I decided to drive and see Enzo, my grandson aged two, no intention of taking him shopping, however did and must say, he really helped me get over myself.
First, he didn’t want to get out of the car, he loves driving with me. He then refused to sit in the trolley, however I won. He kept yelling at me and demanding to go down different aisles, wanting to turn around when I was going a certain way, threw a mini tantrum and I just kept smiling at him and kissing his little white head.
He looked at me with his magnificent blue eyes and got angry and I just kept smiling and hugging him. “I love you Enzo”……just made him angrier. He spoke in his own language and I just kept telling him that I knew and that I loved him.
It’s not my stuff, it’s his. Whatever was going on in his little mind and life, he just wanted to vent it and I was the closest one. He wouldn’t know why he was behaving that way, he just was. He’s two years old.
Summed it all up hey, I’m the closest one and Rebecca knows that.
She cannot hurt anybody else the way she knows she can hurt me.
This gives her control in an uncontrollable situation.
What a relief, what a way to express huh? I dropped Enzo back, no lunch for me, couldn’t wait to get home and sleeeeepppp….. for hours……..
Have just woken up. What a day.
Now that I have typed up all emotions around the confusing “there is no rhyme or reason”, it’s just occurred to me – it is Day 6 after chemo.