Losing Alison

[Heather]

I debated about posting this because it is deeply personal but after reading Irene's poem about her friend Maureen, I've decided to post it because friends should be celebrated and remembered. Heather


In October 2008 I lost my friend and neighbour of over 20 years to cancer. Alison was only 49.

The first person I met when we first moved to Broadford was Alison. She came to visit with a cake and her son David. Our son, also David, is about 8mths older than her David. Our next child Hayley was born in January 1989 and then Alison and Bob had Mark who was born prematurely a few months later. His early birth was to cause him cerebral palsy.

Alison wasn’t an easy person to get to know; in fact I doubt that anyone really knew her. She was a very private person and also a very difficult person to have a conversation with - it was like pulling teeth at times. I got to know her better through our mutual involvement with the Broadford Historical Society and with our little group of friends there we had a lot of laughs and poked a lot of fun at each other – nothing was sacred. We looked forward to meeting each week for our weekly dose of belly laughs.

One of our “traditions” was to give each other balloons on our respective birthdays with rude comments on them. If I missed a birthday at the society I would come home to find balloons with insults tied to my mail box. On the occasion of my 25th wedding anniversary I came home to find balloons and a silver painted horse shoe – very precious.

Alison was devoted to her two sons. David is a talented cricketer with ambitions to play for Australia one day. A couple of years ago he spent some time in England and Alison’s husband surprised her with a trip to visit him – albeit with no money so she had to walk everywhere, but she just loved the countryside and the history.

Mark, her other son is a world class archer. In the early days Alison had to spend many, many hours doing therapy for Mark – therapy that was necessary but which caused her son much pain and her many tears.

In August 2007, Alison went to Korea with Mark for a world championship. When she came back she was gravely ill and had lost a great deal of weight. She thought it was because she had been allergic to seafood. However, she continued to get sick and lose weight; test after test could not find the problem. About the January of 2008 Alison was told she had stomach cancer. I won’t forget the phone call.

Alison started chemotherapy. We were hopeful of her getting better. What we didn’t know, because she didn’t tell us, was that it was terminal. The chemo was just to keep her alive a bit longer. I won’t forget her husband telling me that she was on chemo A, then there was chemo B, then Chemo C and then it was “down the gurgler”. It was a rude awakening. She never got to Chemo C.

Our group of friends – about 5 of us at Broadford HS tried to keep life as normal as possible. We continued with our routine and with our jokes at each other’s expense. When Alison was in hospital for her initial chemo, Gloria and I went to visit. She had asked us to buy her some pajamas. We had never had so much fun buying for another person and made a day of it. We put together a “showbag” for her and took it to her when she eventually came home. Each small gift individually wrapped and with a tag and a story: a cow bell to call for assistance, a colouring book to keep her busy in hospital, a fancy straw for drinking, licorice, a toy cow to take the farm to her and a g-string for her best undies when the doctor visited – knowing full well that it was the last thing she would have worn! We also bought her a purple clown wig for when her hair fell out. It was a lot of fun and I recall her total bemusement and laughs when she opened each gift.

She could be impatient and cantankerous. I remember when she was very ill but still soldiering on at the historical society – Bob was there to support and she was so mean and awful to him my heart just died for him. I didn’t want him to remember her like that. I actually left that day because I couldn’t bear it. At times I was convinced that if she had lived, they certainly would have ended up divorced – she could be so unreasonable with him. To his credit he had the patience of an angel during this time.

Eventually Alison’s hair did fall out and she cut her hair short and wore hats and scarves. We decided to have a “wig day” where everybody had to wear a wig. It was one of the funniest days of our lives. We laughed until we nearly wet ourselves. We took lots of photos and nearly caused traffic mayhem when we crossed the main road to go to the post office. Alison’s husband Bob had dressed in an Elvis wig and we entered the post office with him singing “return to sender” to the bemusement of the poor post master and his wife who were totally bewildered. Mine, if you were wondering was a curly Marilyn Monroe wig; I had bought a clown wig but couldn’t get it over my hair. Gloria wore a rainbow clown wig and our dear old Ruthie (now 80) wore a wig that made her resemble something that had been in the gutter overnight with a bottle of turps. We laughed and laughed and made some very happy memories. It was so good to see Alison laughing.
A few weeks later we had a “hat day” with almost as equal hilarity; again, lots of photos and laughs.

Shortly afterwards, after having heard from Bob that Alison was terminal, we decided to have a combined Christmas in July and Alison’s 49th birthday party. As far as Alison was concerned it was Christmas in July. We knew it would be Alison’s last Christmas so we went all out with decorations – both Christmas and birthday decorations. Our family room was filled with balloons (tradition remember) and banners. Alison entered the family room and we all shrieked “Happy Birthday” but she really didn’t get it; she was convinced that it was Christmas in July.

Leading up to the joint celebration, Gloria, Ruth, Charmaine and I had made a photo album for Alison with pics from “wig day” and “hat day”. We put in funny comments and put so much love into that album. We did this at Gloria’s house and the photos of us making that album are some of the only ones Gloria has of inside her house which burnt down on 7th February 2009.

It was only when Alison received her album, over which each page she carefully and thoughtfully turned, that she realized that we really were there for her. There were tears. It was a special night.

Not long afterwards, in August, Alison became ill while watching David at a football match. Gloria and I went to visit her in hospital. It was the most heart wrenching visit; there was nothing more the doctors could do. The cancer had blocked her stomach and nothing was getting out of it. Alison now had a tube down her throat to drain her stomach of everything that went into it. She could only drink clear fluids.

I left the hospital sobbing. It was so unfair. At 49 she had still so much to offer. Her children were now both off to uni and independent; Bob was about to retire (he was quite a bit older than her); it was Alison’s time. She had such a brilliant mind, was a quilter of wonderful work and an artist of no mean feat and had so much more to offer the world.
For days I cried every time I saw a wattle. I had to stop driving on several occasions simply because there were wattle trees along the road; Alison loved wattles.

For several weeks Alison remained in John Fawkner Hospital despite attempts to get her back to Kilmore Hospital where she would be closer to friends and family. For several weeks there were no beds available. Eventually she came home and had a lovely sunny room on the north side where she could see the view. Bob took the dogs in to visit her. I went most days and tried to take fresh flowers every day. It was August – September and the wattles were resplendent.

At the time, mutual friends Margaret and John were overseas on holiday. Alison had been friends with Margaret for many years. We were all concerned that they would not make it back in time; it was a race against the clock. Margaret had visited me the day before she left to go overseas and asked me to tell Alison every time I visited that she was with me. So, I got a balloon, drew a face on it and put a wig on it and called it “Margaret” and every time I went to visit, “Margaret” came too. She liked that.

Eventually, Bob, with training from the nurses, managed to get her home. At first it was day visits. I recall the weather was pretty hot and that without her fluid drip she always seemed to resemble a withered little old lady. By now she was on morphine big time and it made her sleepy. It wasn’t a life but she hung on fiercely. She was still making plans and drew up plans for her vege patch – didn’t stop living her life to the very end.

I tried to visit most days. On the day Bob brought her home permanently he asked me to go and put fresh flowers in the house. I also decked it out with balloons (tradition you know) and yellow ribbons. I wrote her a letter to tell her what knowing her had meant to me; it was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.

In early October Darren and I took a planned holiday to Bright. It was a beautiful week of glorious weather, reading and walking. We hoped that it wouldn’t happen while we were away. I hoped it wouldn’t happen on my birthday.

The last few weeks were a matter of waiting – waiting for her body to give up. She became groggy, at times disorientated and time was foggy for her, but she still put on a brave face and seemed quite perplexed at all the attention; it was a very un-Alison thing – attention.

To sighs of relief, John and Margaret finally arrived home. Alison’s tube had become dislodged and she was in Kilmore Hospital overnight to have it put right. Bob put John and Margaret off visiting as she was expecting other visitors but they didn’t turn up and he rang to tell them to please go and visit. They had several precious hours with her.
Early the next morning Alison died. Quietly, surprisingly unexpectedly; just slipped from this world. She had waited for John and Margaret; we were convinced.

Unknowingly, I went to the Broadford HS that morning and when I entered Gloria’s face told me the story, “She’s gone”, she said quietly. It was a relief.

Alison’s funeral was a celebration. We all set up the hall at Tallarook and it was a kaleidoscope of colour in flowers. Most wattles had finished but we hunted high and low for some; there was not a spot left in the hall not taken up by native flowers. It was also filled with her work: her sketches, her quilts, her photographs, her saddle and ribbons. When I go, I want it to be just like that.

Alison’s illness made me reappraise life. I gave up my part time job to spend time with her and my friends and family.
If my house isn’t as clean and tidy as some; it doesn’t matter. If my garden isn’t as I would wish it (and it isn’t); it doesn’t matter. If my puppy wets the floor or the kids break a plate, it is not the end of the world; it’s not important.

When the wattles bloom each year they bring wistful memories, tears that will not be denied, and a determination to live life to the full.

Planted down my driveway is an avenue of wattles which I lovingly planted and watered through the summer of 2008/09. They are my loving tribute to a dear friend so sadly missed. Each July for her birthday and each 22 October, the anniversary of her death, I tie balloons with a message to a friend to Alison’s mail box.

Wig day group reduced.jpg

[Maureen K Clifford]

How very lucky Alison was to have had such loving friends - it would have made her journey so much easier I feel.
Thank you for sharing this Heather - I could feel the pain in the story - but also saw the joy. You keep those wattles growing and don't forget to take cuttings from them, because they are notoriously short lived - but I suspect you know that. Great photo too how could she not laugh you all look bloody ridiculous

[Heather]

Thanks Maureen. I don't know how we didn't cause accidents that day. One local lady (we call her "have a chat") stopped to ask what was going on and she gladly took the photos.

Alison is the lady in the purple clown wig. We made some lovely memories before she went and by golly we laughed. I've never met a braver person. What I didn't say in the story is that Alison was working on a quilt that she spent hours on in an attempt to finish before she died. In the end she finished all but the label on the back which Gloria finished for her. The quilt went to her niece and was a work of art.

Heather

[Bob Pacey]

Big tough men don't cry Heather Bloody hell they don't.

Thank you for shareing Alisons journey I hung on every word. What you and your friends did for her would have been a blessing and I'm sure that if she could she would tell you that herself.


I participated in a seminar a few years back where I had to write my own eulogy and this was as you can imagine quite hard but it opened your eye's to how you live live and the things that are really important to you.

The scenario was that you had to do the things in life now that would make your friends and family say those things that you had written about you. It changed my perspective on life.


Thanks for telling about Alisons journey no matter how painful it is still beautiful.


Bob

[william williams]

Thank you Heather. Bob stated that Grown men don't cry BULL we do. my heart goes out to you and your friends ( words may lose there viewing but YOUR memories they never do)

BILL WILLIAMS

[Neville Briggs]

Thanks for that Heather, that is very very moving. Your genuine care and empathy shines through. You are so right " the things that matter "

[mummsie]

My heart goes out to familys and friends who lose a loved one in this way, it is a very testing time both for the sufferer and those who gather for support, quite often it's the spouses they treat so unkindly[without meaning] I'm sure it's a wall they put up to try and protect loved ones from the pain they are experiencing. I nursed my mother through the last three months of terminal cancer, it is the hardest thing I've ever done,. I saw how she shut Dad out. It's friends like you Heather that help familys through this trying time. Thank you for sharing your friends story. Yes, it certainly makes us appreciate life, take what you have, no matter how meagre, and make the most of it. Thanks again.
Sue

[Heather]

Thanks Bob, Bill, Neville and Sue. Alison died in October 2008 and I wrote this in August 2009 and I'm glad I wrote it when it was still fresh and painful.

Bob and Bill, I'm always making grown men cry! My co-author and I are interviewing people for our bushfire book and 99% of the people we interview including big gruff, tattooed fire fighters, have tears - but it's not over the fire or their material losses, it is without fail, when they talk about how they thought they might lose a loved one or they didn't know if a loved one was safe or not.

Heather

[manfredvijars]

Friends/Mates are forever. The place they occupy in our hearts is theirs for keeps ...