Tom came back today after his stint with Nadia. He has been giving her a lot of grief lately and is prone to tantrums if he doesn't get his way. I know how difficult it is for her and I really do feel for her. And I have tried to help when I can and if she asks me. I don't just do it because I love her, which I do, but also because it's right that I do. It's not something that I can just walk away from.

We have another busy time ahead of us and if Tom behaves (which he usually does for me) I hope that we can go to the Bathurst Show and do a lot of father and son things. I enjoy his company and I am rarely lonely when he is around. He still has a big problem with food - he is reluctant to eat anything wholesome. Naturally, icecream, chocolate and biscuits are just fine! I'm hoping that his aversion to school is abating now that second term has arrived, though getting him in the mood will probably be a challenge for some time.

Meanwhile, the wind is howling outside and it feels like winter in mid-autumn. I have observed in the past that the weather is sometimes an apt metaphor for my feelings. Tom is here but my heart has a winter's edge.

Despite the date on this blog, today is Anzac Day. A day of remembrance amongst the thickets of noise that characterizes modern life. It is worth recalling the sacrifice of others, and notwithstanding the generalizations and cliches that inevitably abound on such occasions, it is right for us to do so. Lest we forget.

blades of wind-hunted grass
lithe headstones in bright air
remembering another
earthly cenotaph

Tom and I have had busy time of late. This being the school holidays, there has been a lot of time to fill in. Yes, a lot of time indeed. In the last few days we have seen The Pirate Movie, been swimming at Springwood pool, spent time gardening at two properties, played Monopoly and Risk, backyard cricket and shopping. Tom complains the moment boredom sets in, which is often. I tell him quite straight-facedly that boredom is a part of the human condition and that adapting whilst young is to his advantage. He is unimpressed. I ponder whether the faster rhythms of modern life, so often and tediously written about in the self-referring media, is making Tom and his peers boredom averse. I tell him that the gaps are important, the spaces where reflection and quiet are possible. Still unimpressed. I guess being six lacks subtlety.

And when you think about it, it is the gaps, which matter so much with faith. Prayer, meditation, reflective reading and thinking all happen in the spaces between whatever else is happening. I have had a lot of time for gaps in the past four months and often it has been a painful, lonely experience. But there have also been times of joy and communion. And overwhelming thanks. What can I say but to be grateful to God for the chance to experience difficult times, in spite of the obvious emotional cost. That cost is small though compared with the great gains that can come, invisible as they may seem to others.

It's difficult being in the company of other parents sometimes. I shouldn't feel uncomfortable but I tend to fall, most times, for the old mind-reading error. I'm guessing that they are thinking 'Oh, there's David, the poor guy whose wife left him.' Naturally enough, no-one is thinking any such thing as everyone is pretty much preoccupied with their own thoughts and some are probably doing their own special blend of mind-reading.

It's a sure thing that we all do it, tending to denigrate ourselves and elevate others. Or guess what they are thinking. Maybe it's biological, a kind of self-defence mechanism from the mists of human existence. But it serves no good purpose in modern exchange.

Nadia is staying with her cousin Bianca in town and I find my thoughts drifting towards her, wondering what she is doing, saying and thinking. I don't mean anything bad by it, but I guess it's just one more proof, if any more were needed, that I am still in love and missing her. My thoughts and prayers are only ever for her being supported, being loved and finding whatever happiness she can. If that is without me, as seems likely, then so be it.

Good Friday. Chainsaws in my front yard. Neighbors upset. Backyard cricket with Tom.
It wasn't supposed to start off unpleasantly, this being a day that has special meaning for me. Particularly this year.
Its so odd how things go, sometimes so unpredictably. Often it's the way we have sown and are now reaping.
But the sun is out in autumnal splendor and Tom is happily picking at a chocolate Humpty, filled with smarties. He couldn't wait till Sunday.
I dont know how things will work out. I so want to leave matters to God but it's hard not to interfere. So hard.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I am starting to find my feet. The troughs are less deep though every day is fraught by the chance of an emotional unwinding, set off by pretty much anything. I have been helped by a reawakening of my almost dormant faith and the kindness of others. Working at Anglicare has also been a blessing and the job I do is almost a perfect match for my abilities. The challenge of singing in the outreach cafe has also forced me to step up and work harder at the music that I seem to have only paid lip-service to thus far. And of course my commitment to being a good father keeps me centered, for the most part.

And yet still I hope for what may be hopeless. That little ember remains tiny, yet significant.