Annus horribilis

 This past twelve months has been the worst year of my life, COVID has nothing to do with either.  

Last year my husband and I were returning from our first international trip, cruising around idyllic (and some not so) pacific islands for twelve days.  Did a few things I had never done before such as being driven on the ‘wrong’ side of the road, snorkelling a reefs around a tropical island before sailing back towards home.  We sailed through thick smoke that stretched from the fires that were burning Australia all the way to New Zealand, I remember dreading what I might return to but that didn’t prepare me for the nightmare that waited for me at home.  

I was yet to turn my phone on as we docked in Sydney harbour when there was a knock at the door, our travelling companion came with news no parent could want to hear, our son was in hospital with multiple stab wounds endured during a mugging, three days before.  I remember sitting in shock in our cabin, tears running down my face, while it was explained that the decision had been made not to contact us before this by my son and his policeman cousin, I knew at that moment that I would have gone absolutely crazy if I had been told and been stuck on a ship for three days.  A vivid vision of me climbing over the railing of our balcony set that in concrete.  

I called my mother, she reassured me that he was healing well and had come home the night before.  After what seemed to be forever of disembarking the ship (the main gangway wouldn’t attach), then going through Customs being stuck behind a non-English speaking family, we made our way to the train for the trip home.  My son had five serious wounds, a pierced lung and some other minor but very frighteningly situated.  Son has healed well, he has scars but he doesn’t have to look at them daily, thankfully and thankful for the skills of the plastic surgeon concealing  the one that would be most noticeable.  

The last twelve months have been emotionally wearing for me, but as the first anniversary approached I found that I was healing enough to now being able to write these thoughts.  The only thing that we need closure on now is the sentencing of the perpetrator, the justice system works slowly, hasn’t even gone to trial yet.  

My son went back to work about a month later and has gone from strength to strength, I am so proud of him.  He did become a homebody for most of the year, the last couple of months had started back to exercising and this past week he took a vacation away with his friends.  His healing is well underway, truly a lesson in patience.  

There have been things that have really tried my patience and some I find it hard to forget and forgive.  Being told off over the phone when I called to thank someone for being there for my son because I agreed with the decision not to call us, that person hasn’t spoken to us since.  Another told me the day after we got back that I “should have gotten over it by now, after all it had happened four days ago”, who does that?  Oh yeah, the same person who left my son and daughter alone on the first morning he was home from hospital without even telling them he was going out and then later making my in shock husband go out to collect him in 40 degree heat after his obesity mobile broke down.... anger much?  Hell Yeah!