Parents Part 3: Dedication

I was three-and-a-half-years-old and my mum picked me up for a weekend visit. My dad had dropped me off somewhere near the centre of Melbourne, where Mum worked, and we got on an almost empty bus. There were maybe two people on the whole bus: one of them a tall, dark figure with a black winter coat, black gloves and a black brief case. It’s common knowledge that villains dress in black, right?

I remember thinking, there are so many empty seats, we won’t have to sit next to him… and yet – incomprehensibly – Mum headed determinedly towards the black-gloved man. I tugged on her skirt hoping to enlighten her to the fact that there were many other seats available, but she didn’t stop! She sat down next to him and started chatting!

It wasn’t long before I realised that Mum knew the black-gloved man (maybe it’s my Australianness, but the gloves really made an impact on my impressionable young mind. Now that I have lived in Europe, I realise how few people wear gloves in Australia; I mean for the cold, and not just for fashion. Let’s face it, our winters often crack out days of 15-19 degrees: T-shirt weather in England).

Anyway, Black Gloves eventually started hanging out with us more and more. I soon learned that he did have other colours in his wardrobe, and that he wasn’t as villainous as I initially thought. Sure, he won me over cheaply with a pink possum (which I still have) that said “For Some Special” on its stomach, but I eventually liked him for reasons less superficial than that.

When I was five, my mum married Black Gloves and added an irreplaceable person to my life. We’ve known each other for 27 years now, and I have always been able to count on him for support, advice, comfort, hugs and anything else I might need. He is always looking out for me and I know for sure that if I am ever in trouble, or need the slightest bit of help, I can always rely on him. I’m 30-years-old now, and I have come to realise how rare it is to have someone that you can sincerely say that about.

Gavin (Black Gloves) is, without a doubt, the most dedicated and generous person I know. He is dedicated to his family, dedicated to his job, dedicated to God and to helping others. It’s from this constant willingness to give of himself that he has taught me to be reliable and to live generously.

I know you’re reading this blog, Black Gloves, and even for that bit of support, I’m grateful daily. I love you from a very special place in my heart! Thanks for always being in my corner  xxx

Parents Part 2: Compassion

As explained in an earlier blog, I've decided to jot down a few things I've learned from my folks that have influenced the way I think and live. I'm doing this partly because I'm an uber-reflective person and partly because, well, maybe I shouldn't be the only one who knows this stuff about them. Besides, parents don't get much encouragement and yet, it seems to me that being one is the hardest job in the world. This one's for mum.

My mum was the tallest in her class at the end of primary school... and then... she stopped growing. Now my twelve-year-old sister uses her as an armrest - just as I have for many years. She also informed me the other day that she is shrinking! Though she may be a small package, my mum manages to keep a very big heart crammed inside of her. When I think of her and what she has taught me more than anyone else, I would have to say that it is compassion... not just the kind that feels sorry for someone, but the kind that rolls up its sleeves and seeks to bring relief.

Ever since I was little, I noticed that Mum seemed to have a self-administered job description of visiting elderly relations (and even neighbours), cooking for or delivering groceries to sick family and friends, and losing sleep at night over the struggles of other people. Throughout my childhood years this all gave me the impression that it was normal to seek out and take care of the sick, marginalised and burdened people in one's circle. It wasn't until I was a little older that I realised, it wasn't normal at all... my mum was in fact... very special.

Now as an adult I have had hours and hours of conversations with Mum, listening to her sorrow over the ailing elderly people in our family and wishing she could do more. I don't know anyone who gives as much time to visiting and caring for older people, and she has done it ever since I can remember. As I look back on my own life, in light of the person she is, I see her influence in the choices I have made.

I'm an Occupational Therapist who has specialised in working with the elderly. When I talk about my job with others my age a lot of them say things like, "Wow, that must be really depressing" or "I don't think I could do that job, I would get too emotionally involved." Whether it was people close to her, or people she only saw once a year, Mum has always had boundless respect and compassion for the older people in her life. She takes her chances and dives in where others are afraid to get too affected. Working in the field myself, and seeing all the difficulties of ageing on a daily basis, that is something I really admire about her (at least I get paid to do it!)

Mum has taught me to put myself out for others, give practical help when needed, appreciate and respect people who have walked the Earth longer than you and don't let discouragement diminish the compassion you first felt in your heart towards somebody.

Thanks Mum, you're a really good one :)

Parents Part 1: Courage

Since moving overseas by myself I have had to learn a lot of things very quickly and draw on all of my resources in order to survive. It often leads me to reflect on various things people have taught me throughout my life – especially my parents. As always, these valuable lessons have been transmitted, not by the lectures given or rules made, but by the example they set as I was growing up. For the record, I have FOUR parents and since I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, I’d like to take the time share a little something about each of them and what they have imparted to me as a person. I’m going to break it down into four parts to make it easier reading, so let’s start with Dad!

My dad is one of the most courageous people I know. I’m sure he doesn’t always feel very courageous, but in order to bestow something on someone else, you must have a measure of it yourself; and, as a father, the most precious thing my dad has passed onto me is his courage.

Dad waged his anti-fear campaign from very early on in my childhood. Whenever I saw something scary on TV or heard a strange noise in the house he would always explain them to me…

“It’s not blood, it’s tomato sauce, and that’s not a real shark, it’s a robot.”

“There’s no one out there. It’s just the water pipes banging. Houses make noises all the time.”

Yep, I have countless memories of my dad saying: “You mustn’t be afraid.” He gave me the impression that truly scary things were very rare in life and we shouldn’t let the fear of them rule us. I didn’t realise how profoundly this attitude had shaped me until I moved over here. I mean, it had occurred to me before, when my girlfriends were freaking out about a big spider or a noise that seemed like a burglar trying to break in, that I was able to draw on my dad’s “It’s nothing to be scared of” doctrine, but now I have come to think of it as an invaluable part of who I am.

Friends that thought I was crazy for going outside to prove that a noise was just the wind and not a criminal thought I was even madder when I moved to a new country where I did not know anyone or speak the language. I landed in Italy with the nebulous reassurance that somehow I would find my way – and I did. I see now that that quiet confidence is a gift from Dad that, for me, has become a life philosophy: “You mustn’t be afraid.” Fear can rob us of so many things, and no matter what I do with my life, I hope that I will always make the choice to be brave.

My dad has seen some pretty awful things in his time and been through many tough times, but he has always kept going, kept working hard and not given up. I have to tell you, I’m really proud of my dad. Every time someone tells me that I have guts, the person they are really paying tribute to is the man that taught me how. I am so grateful to him, and if I ever have kids, the one thing I hope to pass onto them is the courage to live an intrepid life.

“Ships are safe in harbour, but that’s not what ships are for.” – William Shedd