A Song for When I'm Gone: Pink Champagne, Funerals and the Fresh Horses Brigade

I opened up my laptop, eagerly searching for Eden from Edenland's latest blog post, which would divulge the newest task for those joining in her 'Fresh Horses Brigade'. Last week we were asked to share our handwriting. This week we've been requested to.............................................

"Tell Me Your Funeral Song"

(gulp!)

My funeral song? I didn't want to think about it. I don't want to think about dying, I just want to focus on the 'living' part of my life and make the most of it.

I'm not afraid to die but I am terrified of losing loved ones. Too distressing to consider. We've lost a few members of our close-knit family and I don't want to think about losing more.

My first experience with death came with the passing of my grandfather when I was 16. It was the first time I'd ever seen my father cry. I remember going to a viewing at the funeral parlour. Family, friends and strangers were lining up to pay their respects to my grandfather. He was laying in an open casket. I was so scared. His face looked different, not the right colour, almost waxen. Old Greek women dressed in black were supporting my grandmother on either side, propping her up. She looked so small and lost. People in the line in front of me were leaning into the casket, kissing my grandfather goodbye. My turn was next. 

I froze. I looked at his mouth and could see tiny stitches keeping his lips together. I wanted to kiss him but I couldn't. I was scared. I stepped back from the queue and returned to my seat. After a brief blessing by a Greek priest who rattled a golden bowl of smoky incense over my grandfathers body, making the form of a cloudy cross, people were invited to pay their final respects before the coffin was sealed. My father took my hand to lead us towards the exit. But I couldn't leave. I had to give my grandfather a final kiss goodbye. As terrified as I was, my heart would ache with regret if I didn't. And so, with all the courage I could muster, I strode up to the coffin  and thanked my darling Papou with a final kiss, grateful for all the love and wonderful moments we'd shared.

My next encounter with Death came many years later. I was living blissfully in Greece, engaged to the man of my dreams. Life was idyllic and we didn't have a care in the world, until Sadness came to visit. My future father-in-law suffered a sudden heart-attack. He went in for routine heart surgery and didn't make it. I remember seeing him before his surgery. We were gathered in his room, my fiance, his two sisters and I. He was apprehensive about the surgery and we all assured him, promised him, he would be okay. Only, he wasn't. I still remember his big sparkly blue eyes smiling away at us under his white bushy brows, his thick white moustache dancing as he grinned and waved. The wheels of his bed squeaked as they whisked him away down the corridor. I was blowing kisses until he was out of view, the surgery doors closing  behind him. Hours later, the doctor called in the immediate family members to make his grim announcement. My father-in-law was dead.

I was not prepared for what was to follow.
Funerals: Greek style.

We left the hospital and drove 45 mins back to my fiance's house. Women dressed in black were swanning about the house, carrying trays of liquer, offering them to the mourners who were gathering. Old men, with their heads bowed, were solemnly sitting on the balcony, puffing  at their cigarettes and swinging their worry beads. My sister-in-laws and I were met out the front of the house by an elderly aunt and ushered into one of the bedrooms. We were to change out of our clothes and dress in black immediately before greeting mourners. The living room was filling with friends and family. All the sofas and chairs were placed around the edges of the room leaving a large space in the centre. Strange, I thought, it's looks like a dancefloor. Only there'd be no dancing today. Everything was eerily quiet except for the hustle and bustle of the aunties in the kitchen churning out little cups of Greek coffee and platters of koulouria biscuits served on silver trays lined with only the best crocheted doilies.

    I was dressed in a black jacket, black skirt, black top, black stockings and black heels that had been freshly polished by an over-zealous aunt. Suddenly I heard wailing. I entered the lounge and noticed that the empty dancefloor space had been filled. With my father-in-law: his open mahogony casket set on an ornate gold stand, a giant pillar of a candle at the head of the casket, a silver plated icon of the Virgin Mary resting on his chest. Now that the body had entered the house, people were free to wail. And wail they did. My mother-in-law, seated at the head of the coffin, shrieked, smacked her head about, yelled at my father-in-law for not looking after his health, yelled at him for leaving her to live all alone. My husband-to-be was a mess. I'd never seen him break down like that. He loved his father so much. And so did I. He was a humble, kind-hearted, angel of a man who always put his family first. My face was a non-stop parade of salty tears as I clutched my fiance's hand and my heartached to see my loved ones in so much pain.The aunts took turns wailing and singing traditional Greek mourning songs. Parades of people would enter the house, kiss my father-in-laws body, kiss the icon of the Virgin then take each of the family members by the hand for condolences. The parade would go on for 24 hours. In Greek tradition, the body of the deceased is kept in their house for the first 24 hours after death. All the doors and windows of the house are to remain open so that the Soul of the deceased can enter and leave freely. It was a chilly autumn in Greece and the house was so very cold I couldn't stop trembling. 

   Funerals: Greek Style. Black, black and more black. 40 days of fasting: no meat, no dairy, no partaking in joyous festivities or celebrations, no music, no sex (!). There was a Priest's Blessing on the 3rd Day After Death, at the grave, where sweet red wine and a bowl of boiled wheat flavoured with icing sugar and cinnamon and decorated with raisins in the form of a cross are offered for the soul of the dearly departed. A 9th day blessing at the grave, a 40th day blessing, followed by a feast. There was a 2 month blessing, a 3 month blessing, a 6 month blessing, a 9 month blessing and, finally, the 1 year memorial service and feast. I'd never visited a cemetery so many times in all my life.

The hardest funeral I ever had to attend was that of my darling Daddy. I will not write of it here, but you are welcome to read a post that I've dedicated to him ("On Love and Loss: My Dad, the Butterfly").

As for my own funeral, I don't want the focus to be on Death and Grief. My experience with funerals, especially the traditional Greek ones, have left me yearning for the opposite. I don't want my loved ones to lament and wallow in sorrow. I don't want them to abstain from Joy. I hope that they remember me with Love in their Hearts and a Smile on their lips, everytime.

I see a picnic on the beach, pink champagne, lemon gelato, kids running around blowing bubbles, a celebration of Love and Life.

And my song choice?

'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.'

I've always had a child-like fascination for rainbows, I always stop and stare at them in awe everytime I'm in the presence of one. They make me happy. I sing this song to my children as a lullaby. It's hopeful and calming.
This is my favourite version by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole.

I also love Johnny Cash singing 'You Are My Sunshine'

Though, maybe I'll be a bit cheeky and throw in Marilyn Monroe singing 'Running Wild' from the film 'Some Like It Hot' . I'd love to think of my Spirit running wild and free (and playing a ukelele).

Do you have a song you'd like to be remembered by? 

Letter to Eden: Riding the Fresh Horses Brigade

I am coming out of my bloggy hiatus (laziness) to join in the sassy Eden Riley from Edenland's 'Fresh Horse Brigades' weekly task (read all about it here). 


This week's task is to share your handwriting with the world.

So here it goes......

I love writing by hand, although now it's mostly delegated to the realm of grocery lists and signing permission slips for school.

When I was younger I used to keep journals where I'd write my deepest secrets and pine over unreciprocated loves. I loved writing weekly letters to my best friend who'd moved to the country. I'd use  different coloured pens with scented inks and decorate the envelope with handdrawn flowers and lipstick kisses.

I love stationary stores and still swoon over pretty journals and gorgeous jet-black ink fineliners.

In this day and age of emails and texts and writing on Facebook walls, I still treasure the delight of receiving a handwritten letter or card in the mail.

Some of my most precious gifts from my husband are little love notes he left about the house for me to find.

Do you write letters? When was the last time you received a handwritten letter? What does your handwriting reveal about you?

The Day of the 'YES'!

Summer School Holidays 

+ 

Darling Husband's 2 week break from work

 = 

Today:

The Day of the 'Yes'.

Today my darling Husband and I became our daughters Dream Parents and allowed them to choose how we would spend the day as a family. 

This is what they came up with.

We said YES to Luna Park

                                                         We said YES to the Carousel

We said YES to Fairy Floss and Ice Cream Cones

We said YES to dizzy, twirly rollercoaster rides

We said YES to Silly Mirrors and Funny Faces

We said YES to the Golden Arches

'Twas a Very Good Day

xxxx

What have you said YES to lately?

'A Guest At God's Table': My Father's Gift

On this day, 7 years ago exactly. I tragically and unexpectedly lost my father.
He genuinely was one of the kindest, most generous and loving beings that has ever graced our planet.


A talented artist and musician, my father taught me to search for, and appreciate beauty in all things.


His philosophies were simple. Do Good. Be Good. Help those who need it. Reach out to, learn from and appreciate other cultures. Most of all he dreamed of a Peaceful, Loving world for it's children to grow up in.


On this day 7 years ago I was in shock as the paramedics wheeled his lifeless body away and struggled to come to terms with a new reality: Life Without Dad.


In a blur of tears I made my way to his little artists studio out the back of our house. I wanted to feel his energy. His little studio was his creative haven. It's walls were lined with shelves displaying his treasured collection of books on art, music, architecture, spirituality, greek literature and hundreds of cd's and vintage vinyl recordings. His collection of guitars were propped all around, welcoming me with their comforting, woody smell. His desk was filled with notes and diaries, Christmas cards he'd received, Christmas cards he'd been writing.
At the very top of the many piles lay a lone sheet with a few lines in his distinct, arty penmanship.


I picked up the paper and read:

A Guest At God's Table

We are all visitors here, on Planet Earth

All guests at God's Table

We have to ask ourselves,

what have we brought to the table to share

what are the many gifts given to us

and what will we leave behind, in gratitude

for the hospitality,

and for the guests that follow us

Costas 

December 2004

This was likely the last thing he had ever composed.


My father was now a Guest at God's Table.

What a beautiful gift.

It was like it was meant for me to find it, right there, right then. It warmed my heart and soul like a loving, comforting embrace.

Dad's message to me. Dad's message to us all. Our presence here on this lovely planet of ours is transient, we are not here forever, we are merely guests. The gifts given to us are our talents and our strenghts. My father's gifts were his kindness and his musical talent, and that is what he is most remembered for.

We all have gifts, we all have talents. What we need to do is be brave enough to open our hearts to them, accept them, use them and share them. 

What are your special gifts? Have you acknowledged them? Are you using them? Everybody has something special and unique about them, and that includes you, yes, YOU! Are you creative? A good listener? A nurturing cook? A loyal friend? An inspiring teacher? Do you express yourself through the written word? Do you move people with your music? Does your beautiful smile make someone's day? Your gifts and talents have a flow-on effect which in turn touches many lives, more than you'd realize.

So go on, Live your life doing what you Love. Make it count. Life is precious.

*This is a song my father composed when I was a young girl. Moved by scenes of famine and war in the Middle East, he felt compelled to write a song dedicated to the world's children, instead of asking for toys at Christmas, to wish for a Peaceful Earth. It is sung in Greek, but as music is a Universal Language, the sentiment is there.

Dream Big, Little Ones

Some kids at school made me cry today.

They were not my darling twins who were singing and dancing on stage about 'Celebrating Friends' (although I was an extremely proud Mamma, gleefully recording them on my phone).
I shed a tear when the next group of children came out to share their Philosophy class project.
Each child was asked to think about a dream or goal they would like to achieve, and to think about what steps they needed to take to achieve them.

Inspired by a visit from inspirational sportsman and footballer, Jim Stynes, who is currently battling cancer, he asked the children to go home and make a poster of their dream, and to stick it up somewhere where they could see it everyday, reminding them that they have something to strive for in life.

The children came out on stage with their dreams in their hands. Bright, sparkly, glittery, shimmery dreams, decorated with pictures, photos, ribbons and drawings, held out proudly for all the teachers, parents and carers to see. Boys and girls with Hope in their hands, the Future in front of them. I scanned the placards: dreams of being a fisherman, a kennel keeper, a fashion designer, a teacher, to travel to Paris, to climb mountains, to build a house, to open a restaurant to feed hungry people, to discover treasure, to kick winning goals.

My heart swelled with admiration for these little beings, and a tear escaped from behind my big, black Oroton sunglasses and trickled down my cheek. It made me think of my own dreams. Have I achieved them all? No. But there's still time to turn my Dreaming into Doing.

I wish, hope and pray that all those children, and my children, and your children, and every child on this planet achieves their little dream, whatever that may be. Who are we to judge, or tell them it can't be done?

If there's anything that I really want to instill in my girls, it is To Believe in Themselves, and To Believe That They Can.

In the famous word's of Audrey Hepburn:

"Nothing is Impossible. The word itself says I'm Possible"

Are you living your Dream? 

The Cowgirl Sisterhood : or : Why I Wanna Be A Cowgirl

It might come as a surprise to some of you, but contrary to my 'Whoa, Mamma!' profile pic (the fabulous print by renowned vintage pinup artist, Gil Elvgren), I'm not actually a Cowgirl. Nor am I blonde. But I am buxom. And I damn well want to learn how to use a lassoo (oh, the things I could do...)   ;)

My Cowgirl alter-ego came about one day when I was literally at the end of my tether. The demands of Motherhood were overwhelming me, Housework was swamping me, and I didn't know which way to turn. I thought if I heard one more complaint/demand/argument or slipped on another trodden grape/banana/vegemite sandwich, I would explode.

So I went and locked myself in my room for a bit of time-out.

I'm one of those types who'll smile and say everything is alright, even when it isn't.

On this particular day, I hit a wall. I felt I had noone to turn to. I needed to release. And so, I opened up my laptop, googled  Blogger, and set about creating my little blog, 'Whoa, Mamma!'

I had no idea what a blog was or how to go about it. I had no intention of  anybody reading it, except me. To me, my little darling blog was a 21st Century version of my high-school diary. A place to put down my thoughts and feelings, memories and emotions.

But to write, to express my thoughts and feelings, I need to be Brave. In order to be Brave enough to hit that 'PUBLISH' button on my first post, I needed an alter-ego. I envisaged myself as strong, confident, resilient, a free spirit, and maybe even a lil bit sassy. Immediately an image of a Cowgirl came to mind, and everything just clicked. I felt at home. I was up on my horse and galloping, baby! Yee-ha!!

What is it about Cowgirls? To me, they embody strength, resilience, hardwork, at one with the land, they get going when times are tough. They also exemplify an incredible faith , a freedom of spirit and an absolute devotion to their families and communities. They band together and support each other in times of need.

There's also a sassy sexiness associated with Cowgirls. 

Hello? Girls with guns?

Girls with whips and lassos riding astride wild beasts? Catch my drift?

Blogging under the guise of 'Whoa, Mamma' has also been a wonderful way to meet kindred spirits (that's YOU, my darling readers!). And some of the most gorgeous hearted souls I've ever had the privilege of 'meeting' include real life cowgirls: strong, independent, inspiring women who promote the cowgirl way.

These women and their communities inspire me on a daily basis. The Cowgirl Sisterhood, in particular: Barbara from 'Shabby Cowgirl', Vicki from 'Cowgirl Boutique', and Elise from 'Cowgirl in the Sand'.

It is with much love and adoration that I dedicate this post to them and thank them for welcoming me into their Cowgirl World. Giddy-up Sisters!

♥ Jess xxx

*A special thank-you to all who have been supporting me and voting for me to be included in the Circle of Moms 'Top 25 Aussie Mum Blogs'. I'm so humbled and grateful for it all.
If you like what I do here at 'Whoa, Mamma!' and want to show your love with  a vote, just click the link below:

Vote for 'Whoa, Mamma!' in the Circle of Moms 'Top 25 Aussie Mum Blogs'

Thanks again, my lovelies!
Yee-ha!
♥ Jess xxx

Whoa Mamma's Grateful Grecian Goddess Giveaway!!

My darlings, some of you may know that I have just returned from a whirlwind little trip to Greece, the land of my ancestors. I had a wonderful time catching up with family and friends, and enjoyed watching my little Katrushki walk down the aisle as a gorgeous flowergirl at her Godfather's wedding, which took place in an old stone church in a picturesque village on Mount Olympus, the home of the Ancient Greek Gods.

Katrushki, the little Flowergirl

Upon my little Mediterranean sojourn, I picked up a few of my favourite things along the way, from some of my most loved Greek brands, with a little giveaway in mind. This is my present to you, in gratitude for all your love and support in indulging me on my little Whoa Mamma journey.

'Whoa, Mamma!' is a little world I've created that focuses on turning the woes in life, into whoa's! Blogging has helped me reconnect to the little soul inside me that had been buried under  the weight of all my 'Mummy-Duties'. I believe in nurturing gratitude and promoting things of beauty, inspiration and positivity. Thank you for reading my musings, taking the time to comment, and sharing in all the Woes and Whoa's. It means the world to me.

And so, as a heartfelt Thank You to you all,  I have come up with Whoa Mamma's 'Grateful Grecian Goddess Giveaway'!!

This little collection of treasures is made up of:

• a 10cm Mastic scented votive candle from Mastihashop, (mastic is an ancient resin found only on the Greek island of Chios and has amazing therapeutic properties)
• Rose chewing gum with Chios Mastiha from Mastihashop
• a 50ml KORRES Yoghurt Body Butter, (for luscious, glowing skin)
• a 125g KORRES Pomegranate Soap (for face & body, it's a cleanser and toner in one!)
• a 70g block of world-famous ION Milk chocolate with Almonds (Whoa Mamma's favourite!)
• a handmade traditionally beaded Greek lucky-charm bracelet (because you can never have enough luck in this world!)

A Treasure Trove of Grecian Goodness!

KORRES Pomegranate soap

Yummy, yummy ION chocolate!!

Gorgeous rosepetal gum from MASTIHASHOP

One lucky darling will win it all, hopefully that's YOU!

All you have to do to enter is to be a follower of my blog or 'Whoa, Mamma' Facebook page and leave me a comment below sharing 3 things that fill your heart with Joy. Not too hard, is it?

Entries close Sunday 20th November and the winner will be drawn using random.org (I'm going to leave it up to Fate, choosing a winner from all you lovely folk would be like being asked to choose a favourite child!). Winner will be announced on my blog and Facebook page next week so stay tuned!

Please note: this is not a sponsored post. Everything in this giveway was purchased with Love, by me, with my own little euros xxxx

GOOD LUCK and feel free to share amongst your friends!!!