Monday, July 22, 2013


Yesterday was cold. Like really cold. The day before we got there it snowed. Ash and I went to Daylesford to look at blanket boxes to keep mum's things in. The drive back was blanketed in fog.  

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Australia's Day of Shame

Here are images from the snap protest that arose from yesterday's abhorrent decision by Prime Minister Kevin Rudd.

Protestors march down Swanston Street to the Department of Immigration and Citizenship 
Federal Greens Senator Sarah Hanson-Young sheds tears during her speech condemning the governments policy change.

Protestors brave the wintery Melbourne weather at the steps of the State Library

Protestors chanting while marching up Bourke St, Melbourne.

John Gulazri of Dandenong represented Melbourne's Hazara Community. 

Lucy Honan of the Refugee Action Collective

Despina Kiriakidis of Castlemaine stood vigil on the steps of the State Library. This was not a set up shot. 

I'll remember to brush my teeth.

On Saturday the 22nd June at approximately 1.15 pm, my mum breathed her last breath. I was holding her hand as she passed away. She was surrounded by family.
This is a photo from the alter of the Quang Minh Buddhist Temple in Braybrook. My grandmother's (mum's mum) ashes are there. When mum could, she would visit the temple and offer incense in front of an image of my grandma. The last time she went was on the 2nd of July, less than three weeks before she passed away.
While I am not religious, I know that the ritual was important to mum, and it is with that in mind that I follow the traditions which she followed when my grandmother passed away in 2006.
I guess what I am saying is I will remember her in my own special way; her smile and laugh, her wicked sense of humour, her humility and strength through unimaginable adversity, and a running joke we had..
I am 25 years old and have in some way or another lived out of home since I was 18. After mum was diagnosed in Jan 2011, I moved home to look after her. Before I would retire at night, she would always remind me to brush my teeth. After a while, I would remind her to brush her teeth. She would laugh and tell me she had forgotten that I had grown up.
In those final few hours of life, one of the last senses which people lose is hearing. In her final minutes, I told her that I loved her, and that I would always remember to brush my teeth.