Tag: grief

What we learn in sorrow

What we learn in sorrow

In Australia at the moment many are grieving. Bushfires have swept our country, taking out huge tracts of land, homes, and many, many lives, both human and wildlife. I have stopped looking at the news because the images are too distressing. My heart grieves at so much loss. And now I have learned that a friend passed away, suddenly and unexpectedly. This year weighs on us all, bringing deep sorrow. It’s hard to see a way forward.

The sorrow of losing a friend

A dear friend, Wendy Dunn, introduced me to Elizabeth Jane Corbett, in 2016. We had both recently signed with the same publisher and Wendy thought it would be good if we could get to know each other and support each other through the journey to becoming published authors. My first impression of Elizabeth was that she was incredibly striking – very tall, with strong, beautiful features. Red was her signature colour. She had a direct way of speaking – you always knew where you stood with her. Over the next three years we spent time together at various writerly events. We shared market stalls at the Mythic Market and Supanova. We shared a room at Conflux in 2017, both newbie authors feeling imposter syndrome big time. Our late night chats were deep and insightful. And we reconnected at the Historical Novel Society conferences.

Elizabeth was an extraordinary writer. Her debut novel, The Tides Between, was shortlisted by the CBCA. It is a migration story, and a coming of age story, but to categorise it as that would be to fall far short. Woven through its tapestry of beautiful, beautiful writing are also Welsh myths and tales, which help young Bridie come to understand the world. At times devastating, Elizabeth’s book is one of those rare ones that I will take with me, in my heart and on my bookshelf, wherever I go. I interviewed Elizabeth on this blog in 2017 – you can read the interview here: An Interview with Elizabeth Corbett.

Living with passion

As I sit in sorrow, the thing I remember most about Elizabeth is her passion. It was a passion that seemed to have crept up on her unexpectedly. Elizabeth started learning Welsh as research for The Tides Between.  But when the book was finished, her learning didn’t, and it reached the point where she was actually teaching Welsh herself, and travelling to Wales regularly. Incredibly, she was interviewed about her book in Welsh on BBC Wales! That’s dedication to research. Next she started researching her second book, the story of Margret Glyn Dŵr, wife of the last Welsh Prince of Wales. And it turned into an obsession that led her to a Masters degree. It was on the verge of leading into a PhD. You can read all about it in her own words here.

I was in awe of Elizabeth’s passion. She found what she loved and she was completely true to it, pursuing it as far as she possibly could. When I look back now, and contemplate the loss of someone like Elizabeth, my sorrow arises as much from the loss of her friendship as from what she would have contributed in the future as a writer, historian and passionate Welshophile. I hope that her pursuit of her passion can inspire me to embrace my own, because in the end, a passionate life is one that is true to yourself. And that is one way to honour the life and legacy of someone like Elizabeth.

The Birds Take Flight

The Birds Take Flight

The Birds

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say the last two weeks have been amongst the strangest of my life. It has been a period of excitement and exhilaration, since the musical I wrote with Andrew Perkins, The Birds, had its world premiere. At the same time, I have been experiencing deep grief at the loss of my step-mother. Her funeral ended up happening in parallel to the premiere. The two events collided in such a way that it was impossible to attend both.

Looking forward to The Birds

I wrote a post a few weeks back about how I accidentally wrote a musical. Thanks to the tireless efforts of composer Andrew Perkins, that re-telling of The Birds, by Aristophanes, was booked to have its world premiere at the end of May. Knowing this well in advance, I booked flights to New Zealand six months ago. It has been a bright spot on my calendar, something I have looked forward to for a long time.

There was some frantic rewriting once it was decided the premiere would be a shortened concert version. It was written as a two act play, with dancing and comedy, in line with how the ancient Greeks would have done it. I took out most of the dialogue and turned the action into narration. Since it was the world premiere, I thought it would be amazing to take on the role of narrator. With my background in acting, I wasn’t concerned or nervous. I just wanted to be part of the events, not just watching on the sidelines. This turned out to be a bittersweet experience.

A year of travel

My step-mother, Dee, has been ill for a long time. I won’t go into the full details of her illness, but we had seen a serious decline this year. She lived in Sydney, which meant it was difficult to visit – several hours of travel from where we are. I took my children to see her at the start of the year, concerned they might not get another chance once school started up. We had a special lunch together and the kids were able to give her big hugs. There are times that you just know time is running out, and the kids and my step-mother all had that sense, I think. So the farewells were underpinned by sadness.

Seeing how ill she was becoming, a few weeks ago I booked a flight to Sydney for the beginning of June. It meant I would only be back from Auckland for two days before heading off, but I really wanted that time with her. In the end it was time I didn’t get.

Long awaited news finally arrives

A week before my trip to New Zealand for the premiere of The Birds, I received the news. My step-mother had passed away. Grief is never easy, no matter whether you are prepared for it or not. It’s made complicated when you have something very exciting coming up. It’s very hard to hold such conflicting emotions at the same time. I had been looking forward to seeing The Birds take flight. But now, for every moment of excitement, there was a deep moment of sadness.

I knew instinctively the funeral would occur while I was away. There just wasn’t enough time to organise it before then. If it had been two days earlier, things might have been different. But it was scheduled for the day after our flight to Auckland.

Honestly, I never considered not going to the premiere. I don’t think Dee would have let me consider it. She was an actress by profession. She had a cultured, commanding voice. And in the split second when I realised I couldn’t do both, I heard her voice.

The show must go on.

Not a catch phrase. A command. There was no question in my mind. I would still be flying to New Zealand.

A joyous celebration

As is usual, not everything ran smoothly in the lead-up to the performance. Problems were ironed out swiftly though. Conductor Rita Paczian took charge and the chorus and musicians of Bach Musica NZ were unflappable (pun intended!). Everyone was a professional – they knew what to do and did it expertly. The night of the concert came, and the orchestra dove into the dramatic, majestic music of the preludium. The soloists were absolutely superb, Andrew’s magnificent tangos and plainchants played masterfully by the orchestra, and the bird chorus was exquisite.

I had known Dee would not be well enough to attend, but I had always held on to the thought that I would be able to give her a copy of the recording. Now, as the birds took flight, their beautiful voices soaring, I wished she could be there to hear it. But I knew there could be no more fitting tribute to her. Dee was such a pivotal influence on my creative life. She was the consummate actress, as well as a wonderful singer. To be involved in performing an ancient Greek play, with all its drama, and to hear it sung and played so wonderfully, made me feel very close to her. The tears would come later.