We were talking about summer today, with my sister reminiscing about m&m McFlurries at my Nana's house (she has air-conditioning) - and what was at first a lovely trip down a sweaty memory lane, turned sadly into a relaying of the events of Black Saturday, the devastating bushfires that happened that same summer. I live in a neighbouring suburb to the 'affected' areas - I use quotation marks there because the effect of those fires spread so much further than the fires did themselves, and have lasted to this day, and will last for many years to come.
I remember the day very, very clearly. It was so hot, and so windy, and everyone was on edge; all the doors in my house were flying open and closed as my Dad stood on the front step watching our beautiful trees sway violently and frighteningly out of control. I had just come back from rehearsal at school and I remember looking up and seeing a dirty sky, red, and grey, and cloudy and angry. I remember Dad crossing his arms and telling us to pack our bags because we were leaving our house, 'just in case'. I remember picking up a big pile of my diaries and grabbing Soda by the scruff of his neck and leaving our house in a terrible rush. My family and I were lucky - our house was totally fine, our close friends' houses and families were totally fine.
We were so lucky. Friends lost their houses, lifetimes' worth of memories, and our community lost so many loved ones. The most amazing thing to me is just how many people knew someone who died, or lost loved ones, or lost their house. It was just an endless line of connection and everyone was so sad for everyone else. Our school lost old teachers; a student who had just finished year 12, and his parents, lost their lives. I will never, ever forget their memorial service as long as I live because I don't think I've ever been so close to so many reasons to be sad.
Things are still very sad, y'know. I sung at a bushfire memorial service last year and I've done a LOT-ta singing in my time but I don't think I've ever been so nervous; a sea of grave faces and big black respectful suits, clasped hands and bowed heads and low murmuring. I could barely breathe for sadness there, let alone sing. But I did it and it was fine, sad, but fine. And Mum had to do a memorial floral arrangement just last week for an unveiling of a list of the victims of Black Saturday. Things are still so raw.
Urgh. I had to talk about that, sorry! I promise I'll be brighter next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment