I remember the first funeral I went too; it was one of nans best friends. I used to go and visit her every Thursday when I’d see my Nan. She was a lovely lady, and I used to look forward to hearing her stories, and spending hours talking. I still remember the day my Nan rang; I knew something was wrong when mum started crying. I was only young at the time, but old enough to understand she’d died. Her funeral was small, but approriate for her. Her family would’ve given her the world, but I know she never wanted much. I never cried at her funeral, but I did in the car. I felt really bad for not crying that day, but I soon realised she’d be happy reunited with her husband, and family, as her life wasn’t over, it had just began.
I believe I Grew from experiencing Connie’s funeral, but it could have been the fact that I hadone ofgreatest best friend's at the time, which helped me alot. I used to wonder why Connie never visited me, just so I knew she was okay .For years I lived in this false hope that she would, but still from this day she hasn’t.
Mum and dad told me when I was little, shortly after my pops death, he used to come visit me. Although I can’t remember, I truly believe that he did. I guess that’s why I believed that Connie would. I wish I could remember seeing my pop, hearing what he had to say. I know I was only little, but I give anything to talk to him again.
There was this time however 3 years ago I believe, I had this weird dream about him, sadly I can only remember little things about it, but I do remember how it affected me. It was a horrifying dream, that made me question what I believe about how life, and although now and again we get signs of him being here, I still don’t understand that dream.
It wasn’t until this year however that a funeral had really affected me. It was my pars. I know it sounds super corny, but my par was my hero. We were super close, and it broke my heart when he died. My par had gone through a lot in his life. I used to go there every Thursday since I was little to visit him and Nan. He wasn’t the type who talked much of his life, so when hetalked to me about his experiences of the war, I always listened. His life interested me, and when at school I had to write biographies on grandparents ,I always wrote about my par. I used to always get marked high too.
When Par started getting sick, we tried everything. Most times he recovered quite well. He’d be rushed in hospital almost every time we had school holidays, once he was in the emergency room next door to my other Nan who was also in there. Par never liked being in hospital, and would insist he was better so they would let him go home earlier. All Mums family tried their hardest to help my Nan look after him. They even had a rooster to get him into bed both morning and night, as he was getting too heavy for my Nan too lift him herself.
I try not to think of those times, but the last time I remember seeing him will stay with me forever. I remember him getting confused, and telling me and my younger sister Marnee, that “It just wasn’t fair being locked up”, and him forgetting whoIwasbecause I wore my hair up. Those times scared me, because as much as I tried convincing myself otherwise I knew this would kill him, and that scared me.
I remember the phone call, just as I’d got home after school. My Nan had told mum that par wasn’t going to live much longer, and to come down the hospital right now. He was strong, and as far as I know didn’t suffer. I didn’t go and see him, I wanted to but I couldn’t bring myself to seeing him, knowing that he was forgetting things, and could completely forget who I was. The entire family saw him, which made me feel worse. If you ask me if I regret not going, sure I do, I just wish I cherished the last moments I had with him, knowing it would be the last.
He passed away on the 9th of February, also my pop’s birthday. And that was the worst day of my life. I bawled my eyes out for awhile as my aunty and cousin tried to settle me. Marnee was calm; she has always been so tough. She keeps quiet and bottles up everything, but I knew she was hurting. I had really supporting friends at the time and they helped me more then they’d know. Sometimes just being there for someone is enough, and they were all there for me.
I was having a lot problems with an ex-boyfriend (well if you what to call him that) at the time. As I’d taken so much time of school, everyone suddenly became interested in my business. I soon realised how behind in class I’d been, and it took a while to catch up again. I even got a really bad mark on my English essay, which used to be one of my best classes.
I’ve found this year challenging. Weeks after my Par’s funeral I lost my best friend. She and my other friend Ebony had, had a fight and I was forced to choose between them. I didn’t want to of course, so she choose for me. I was depressed at first, but as time goes on I’ve realised that someone who try’s making your mind up for you doesn’t deserve your friendship. She and Ebony had a small argument which turned into this huge problem. Ebony apologised a number of times, but she wouldn’t accept.
I soon started seeing red with her, and when she sent me a text after not talking to me for days telling me to “never talk to her again”, “I texted back fine!”
These days we hate each other, but honestly I think we’re just as bad as each other. I do miss not having someone to talk to about the stupid stuff in life, but it’s not everything. Whitney and ebony are there for me, they make me laugh, and we have fun together. I’m so grateful to have them, without them I don’t think I’d cope.
This year hasn’t all be bad though, I’ve actually had some really good times. Meeting Emi my friend from Argentina was my highlight of the year. Emi came to our school on exchange, and from the first day I’d met her, I knew we’d be friends. It wasn’t really until me and Taylor stopped talking that I started talking with Emi. She was a very outgoing person and would befriend absolutely anyone. I love how funny she was, or maybe it was because she lacked some meaning in English vocabulary, and got confused. Emi was popular, and went out partying almost every weekend. I remember she used to tell the funniest stories about her getting drunk. I believe Emi could make a whole room happy even if they were in the worst mood; she was just one of those people. Seeing her leave was sad. Emi decided she wanted to go shopping on her second last day in Australia. So Ebony, Whitney, and I took her to Mid Valley and Traralgon. I know it was only shopping, but when you’re having so much fun you really cherish those movements. I look back on that day as being in a good place in life. Sure, we all have problems, but having her there as a distraction from all the bad things going on helped. Emi and I still talk regularly, and I miss her heaps but you never know, maybe I’ll see her again one day.
And it's only fair to mention in March where Lisa took me and Marnee to Melbourne to see Kesha in concert. It was both mine and Marnee’s first concert, and it was amazing. Being only metres away from one of my favourite singers at the time really excited me. She did such an amazing live performance and I’d defiantly see her again. Although it was that great waiting in the pouring rain to get inside, however it was well worth it.
There was also recently in September when we stayed in Melbourne for Siennas christening. Although the Accommodation was absolutely shit, it was a really enjoyable weekend. We got to meet Corby from “Packed to the Rafters”, and got photos with him. You could stay I was loving life that night. Sienna’s party was also pretty amazing, and it was good to catch up with everyone from “Silver waters resort”.
“Silver Water’s Resort,” is where my dad stayed while working away for a year. Although we only got to visit him every second weekend, we made a lot of friends we have for life. The resort was pretty damn awesome, and had everything from two swimming pools, a spa, tennis courts, a restaurant, etc. When dad decided to move into a house for more independence, I was shattered. The house that dad is currently inseems appropriate and I like it because it’s close to the surf beach. However I don’t get the same entertainment as i did with the Resort.
I’m 18 now; I’ve noticed how people treat me differently. Everyone is too busy telling how an 18 year old should act, rather than seeing that I want to make my own decisions for myself. My parents are continuously on my back about getting my P’s, but they don’t realise that I’m not ready, I feel as if I haven’t had enough experience yet. They brag to everyone how much of a good driver I am, but honesty it’s not that hard to drive an auto, the hardest part is learning how to intercept different road rules and conditions. My sister says that it’s pathetic that I haven’t even been partying yet, but who I am going to go with all my friends are underage. At my 18th party I felt sad, and I could tell people could pick up something was wrong. I made up some lame excuse which everyone seemed to buy, but no one knew the real reason. The truth is I wanted my Par to be there, but of course he couldn’t because he’s dead. Last year he gave me a bottle of this aged alcohol, and when I asked mum why, she said it’s probably because he thinks he won’t make it to your party. When she said that I didn’t think much of it, but it was true, he didn’t. It’s like he knew that he wouldn’t survive, and for some reason ,unknown to me this is what I thought about at my 18th birthday party. I did however have a good time once I got myself together and got over it, and it was a good birthday in the end.
I gave up writing for a while; I guess I didn’t believe I was good enough. I used to have high set dreams about being a writer, publishing a book, or maybe even being a magazine editor. I soon realised it wasn’t going to happen. I’m not the best speller, or writer, and to achieve these dreams I’ve have to be unique and wow people, none of which I can accomplish. I’m now in year 11, unsure of the future ahead; I have no idea anymore what I want to do after school. I don’t have any talents, and I’m really not that smart. My future is unknown, one big question mark, a a secret waiting to be revealed. We all get wrapped up in achieving these unrealistic goals that we don’t think about the possibility of never getting there, for years I’ve tried convincing myself I’m as good as other writers and the truth is I’m not, the reality of the truth hurts,the writtern truth.
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