Weepy Wednesday 22/2/2012

I find myself unusually weepy this morning.

This may have a little something to do with my upcoming 40th birthday.

It is more likely to have something to do with the arrival of my monthly visitor this morning, which is always sure to get the waterworks on a hair trigger.

It most certainly has something to do with events a year ago today.

February 2011 we were visiting family. The goal of the visits were manifold.
A/- it would be 6 months since we officially started homeschooling, and there was the intention that I´d get to have a little down time, while the boys spent some quality time with their grandparents.
B/- the boys were fascinated with volcanoes, so we were to go down to look at and explore some of the features of the dormant volcanoe (Banks Peninsula) that my husband and I grew up upon the edge of, and whose features I was very familar. I was to show the boys some of the spectacular scenery.
C/- T´s fear of the idea of earthquakes also prompted me to privately hope that on the aftermath of the September 2010 earthquake, that we´d experience a little wobble or two while we were in the Christchurch area. Oh boy how I have rued that secret hope in the days and months since.
D/- to go Ice skating. Wellington doesn´t have an ice skating rink, and the boys were keen to try this out. We planned to go on February the 23rd with some of the local homeschoolers group.
E/- spend time with Carl´s cousin´s family, also homeschooling and Unschooling.

On Tuesday the 22nd of February, my boys left in the morning with Grandma and Grandad. Grandma was going to visit Great Grandad, and drop Grandad and the boys off at the Canterbury Museum. I was to have my first glorious "day to myself" since we started our homeschooling adventure 6 months prior.

An entire day to myself. I was giddy.

I decided to fill the van´s petrol tank in readiness for our drive North on Thursday. The plan was to stay the night in Hanmer Springs, before going home on the BlueBridge ferry on Friday. I anticipated a leaisurely day, and a leisurely visit to H.S. and a leisurley drive, and a quite crossing with the ferry practically to ourselves.

I went to the supermarket to pick up a few items for the trip, and figured I could get dinner etc in H.S. while there, at the thermal pool resort. I went to the lovely Gluten Free shop in Rangiora, and enjoyed the luxury of being able to choose any item, without having to fear that it may cause me intense gastro-intestinal pain. I ambled home (in the van). Put the Gluten free pie in the micro-wave and heated it in aniticpation. Half way through I took it out, as per instructions, and moved it, put it back in, and re-started the micro-wave.

 The house started to sway.

I hit the stop button, and walked to the door at the end of the hallway. I watched the other end of the hall way appear and disappear from view, as the house swayed from side to side. A picture fell of the book shelf, and a couple of books fell onto the floor. I righted the picture, and returned the books to the shelf. I re-started the microwave, and went to get my cell. "T must be freaking out", I thought to myself, I´d better check that Grandad´s coping with him. "Felt that out here... How´s T?" I received a reply almost immediately. "Ok, we are all ok". To my surprise, the cell phone rang very shortly there after. It was my Father-in-law, calling to let me know they were okay,a nd he gave me each of the boys, to say hello.

I felt strangely touched, and bemused that he apparently thought I´d be that worried about them.

The Micro-wave beeped, my lunch was ready. What to do? I think I´ll go lie down with a book, or have a bath, put first I´ll just go on facebook while I eat lunch. The pie was good. I went to heat the second pie... A friend of mine posted a link to a Stuff (or maybe Herald) article with a picture of the Christchurch Cathedral, minus it´s spire. "Shit" I thought. "My boys are just a few blocks away from there" I opened the article to see if there was any other damage. I scrolled down the article one line leapt out at me. Something to the effect of "Fatalaities are bound to occur this time"

I don´t remember much about that second pie. I´m sure it was as good as the other... then again, maybe I didn´t eat it at all. I don´t remember. It wasn´t important.

My babies, the ones that I had waited for for so long were in possibly the scariest situation they may ever have to deal with... AND I WAS NOT THERE WITH THEM.

The urge to get into the van and drive down to Christchurch and get my babies was overwhelming. My Neo-cortex over rode me... How will you even locate them... what good will it do, you´ll just add to the confusion... leave the space for the people who can help... How will the boys feel if they get here, and you´re not here to meet them? I think it was that last one that clinched it.

A new series of thoughts wormed their way into my head. What are they seeing? How will I know what they are dealing with, when I´ve never experienced anything like this? K has just turned 5, how will he process that? T sometimes has trouble talking on a good day, how is he going to be able to let me know what he saw? How will I be able to know what to provide for them, and get them through this? How will I know what words to use to empower them to express these things that they are going through right now?

I turned on the TV.

It was horrifying.

My babies were going through this.

Other people´s babies were injured.

Other peoples babies were dead and other peoples babies were trapped.

It was frustrating... no views of the museum, or the areas that my boys were in. In retrospect this was a good thing, nothing drastic enough for the cameras. For a mother desparate for a glimpse of her babies, it simply wasn´t good enough.

Sure they were fine. I had the text and the phone call from Grandad. Follow up texts had let me know that they´d managed to meet up with grandma, and were driving home... slowly, but making progress.

The land-line phone rang. Extended family members were reporting in. I took notes, not sure that I´d be able to remember it all later. I shared what I knew with each member as they called in. Slowly the extended family got to know that everyone was okay. We were lucky. Very Lucky. Sure property was damaged, but not one family member was hurt. Not one family member was dead.

I continued to watch the news. I had no idea how long it would take for my children to get home. There was a chance that the Ashley River Bridge, which had become unstable after the September quake, might be closed, or simply gone, which would add hours to the drive, as they detoured. Turned out the bridge was fine. I got texts from Rangiora, and one from the bridge. I knew they were almost home.

I didn´t know what to do. Do I run out and hug them furiously, never letting them go? Possibly scaring the beegeebees out of them at the intensity of my emotions? Possibly crushing them and doing them an injury in my relief? I decided that I should wait for their cues, and be what they needed me to be. I opened the door and greeted them with my usual smile and warm "Hi". I waited to see how they were, so I´d know what they needed, so I could provide. I felt lost. My boys gave me a brief hug, and then sauntered in to the house.

Two days later, I was so very relieved that I had tanked up... there were petrol shortages everywhere, as people fled Christchurch and drove north. Petrol tankers were blocked in, the supply from Lyttleton cut off.

Hamner Springs was out of food, their suppliers, all in Christchurch, and an unprecedented number of visitors, getting away from Christchurch, going to where there was power, sanitation, and terra pacifica, consuming what had been on the shelves.

The road from Kaikoura to Picton was full. multiple trucks driving south bearing port-a-loos, diggers, army personnel and water tankers. Multiple families driving north. Cars filled with whatever and whomever they could fit in. The ferry Jam packed, and nervous starined exhausted conversation everywhere. two topics were discussed... where are you headed (and how to get there) and how bad was it for you? Meanwhile I scoured the paper I had purchased, looking for names of people I know in the lost, unaccounted, or dead columns.

I had texted a couple of friends, and never received a reply. I was fretful, yet telling myself, maybe their phones were out of battery power. Maybe the messages weren't getting through, the news was full of stories saying the networks were down, or overloaded. Surely they would be okay.

A year on, as I write this it only now occurrs to me that my Father in Law probably thought I knew just how bad it was in Christchurch when I sent my initial text, and that he very thoughtfully let me hear the boys´on the phone to reassure me.

A year on, I realise that the almost lack of response from the boys when they got home, was not indifference, but shell shock. I probably should have engulfed them in that hug I wanted so desperately to give them.

A year on, and my boys know an earthquake is scary. More importantly, my boys know an earthquake is survivable. My boys scan building for the nearest escape route, the first time they go in. My boys know where the civil defence kit is stored. My boys know that earthquakes canlead to Tsunami. My boys know where to go in the event of a tsunami. My boys know that there will be sirens warning of imminent Tsunami. My youngest, K does not like going anywhere near tall buildings, for fear they will fall down. I don't even bother telling them that it won't happen. How can I? We all know it can. They drove the Christchurch red zone as buildings crumbled and fell.

A year on, the city in which I grew up in, and where I have lived longer than any other place, is unrecognisable. My primary school is under rocks. Who knows what the houses I grew up in are like now. I suspect at least one, possibly two of them are engulfed with rock and dirt from the surrounding cliffs and hills which they were built beneath. I have only the internet with which to view these things. The newsies have no care for these places that were special to me. I live too far away to go for a casual drive past.

I fear and long for the opportunity to visit these places. Christmas we plan to go to Christchurch. That´s 10 months away. Alot can happen in that tme, as we have had ample proof in the 10 months since this date a year ago.

I am so very grateful that my boys, and my in-laws survived.

I ache for all those who lost.
Lost homes.
Lost lives.
Lost memories.
Lost family
and some who Lost hope.

I am in awe of those who stay.
Those who dream of the New City.
Those who work every day among the loss and destruction.
Those who repair.
Those who build.
Those who maintain hope.

Kia Kaha Otautahi.

I look forward to seeing what you have achieved by the time I can finally make my way down to you.