Aftermath

China was great and I meant to do a proper post this week, but unfortunately fate intervened in the form of a really nasty stomach bug. I've only just started to feel slightly better, so I hope to catch up later this week.

A new year

I know Harvey died a year ago, but sometimes that feels like a long time, and sometimes it feels very short. And now it feels strange to no longer be able to say, or think, "my husband died last year".
              I haven't exactly made any new year resolutions, but I have come to a sort of general resolve: I need to try to live, as much as I can, in the present, and look ahead to the future, rather than turning back to the past. It's not easy; and not only because of the obvious, inescapable fact that I have more years behind me than ahead of me. As for many people my age, of those I've been closest to in my life, more have died than are alive. And I don't have any grandchildren to draw me on into the future.
               But the past is a place to look back on, not to live in. Neither Harvey nor Patrick would have wanted me to dwell there. Both of them had an enormous zest for life and for making the most of their time, something I've often not been very good at, even when they were here with me.
               So now I'm off to China to see my son Jonathan, while my visiting friend looks after the house. It's the third time I've been, and I've got to the stage where I enjoy going back to familiar places almost as much as I love seeing completely new ones. There'll be some of both on this trip, and once again I'll have a close companion to share it all with.
               Of course it's not the same and it never can be, I know that. Harvey and I travelled very well together, though of course, since we were both bossy and each thought we knew best, and strange surroundings stress you out a bit, there would be the occasional disagreement (to put it politely) about where we were, where we were going, what we should do next, where we should eat...
               In China there are no such moments, because Jonathan knows his way around and I don't. He also knows what I will like. What's more, I can't read a single word I see, it's all just pretty decoration to me. So I just trot round obediently after him, and it's very relaxing.
               It will be a good start to this new year, and to living in the present. And in three weeks I'll write about it here. By then we will be in the year of the dragon, a very auspicious sign, embodying beauty, creativity, energy, confidence and fearlessness.

 
 

Getting through

Thanks to friends and family, I can say that I had pretty much as good a Christmas as possible this year.  I didn't realise until I got to Saturday that for me, it would feel like the day Harvey died, rather than Christmas Day itself, because the 25th was a Saturday last year. Fortunately a dear friend who has troubles of her own invited me to join her, and we took very good care of each other.
          The astonishingly fine weather helped a lot too - it lasted from Thursday to Wednesday, which must be some kind of record for Christmas in Wellington.  On the Sunday I was with people from 9.30 in the morning until 10 at night, and then I talked to my sister on the phone for another hour and three-quarters. By the time I'd finished clearing up and got to bed, it was after midnight.
           I had been dreading Boxing Day, thinking everyone would be occupied with their own affairs, but again I was taken care of for most of the day. And so it's gone on all week, I've always had something else to look forward to, enabling me to get through the patches of time on my own without going under. (And all the wonderful food has been a great pleasure and distraction too - see my other blog.) So although I couldn't quite manage it for myself, I've been able to wish others a happy Christmas, and mean it.

Getting ready

Since my little rant last week (which everyone was so nice about!), quite a lot has happened. Harvey's plaque ceremony went very well indeed. After dire forecasts for rain and gale force winds earlier in the week, it was cold but, thank heaven, fine. We read poems and spoke about him and walked home to have lunch together, and I thought "what a great group of friends". Here are the two poems I read. The first one, by Harvey, came at the beginning. It's the final one from his book "Room", which had a poem for each room in the first house we bought together.

Beyond the laundry clutter, out the back

patio, pumpkin, borage, ginger lily,

compost, worms, bees, snails,

cats, sparrows,

the bank held temporary by ivy and convolvulus

once a tui called to check the flax.

There is room for everything.

“Patrick, Jonathan, Ina, Rae & Colin,

we are gathered today at Anne & Harvey’s

home to witness & celebrate their marriage.”

Folly, magnificence the whole thing,

dew on cobwebs,

paint peeling off the house,

mortared brick,

any fresh start

spinning satellites defying common sense,

The embrace of a place

                              & one another.

The second one, by Janet Frame, I read at the end. The evening before, I had picked up Harvey's last anthology, These I Have Loved, and the book just seemed to fall open at this poem.


Poets   
Janet Frame

If poets die young

they bequeath two thirds of their life to the critics

to graze and grow fat in

visionary grass

If poets die in old age

they live their own lives

they write their own poems

they are their own might-have-beens.

Young dead poets are prized comets.

The critics queue with their empty wagons ready for hitching.

Old living poets

stay faithfully camouflaged in their own sky.

It may even be forgotten they have been shining for so long.

The reminder comes upon their falling

extinguished into the earth.

The sky is empty, the sun and moon have gone away,

there are not enough street bulbs, glow-worms, fireflies to give light

and for a time it seems there will be no more stars.

Since Sunday, I have remembered that Harvey loved Christmas, and I'll do my best to enjoy it as much as possible. So now the house is full of flowers, and tomorrow night I'll put up the crib with the figures my son painted for me years ago. Here's how it was for Harvey's last Christmas in 2009. Thank you for reading my blog this year, and I hope that over the next week, you all have the best time you possibly can, with the people you love.

Helpful hints

Just a little over a week to go until Christmas, but right now I'm focusing on this Sunday, because we're having a small gathering then to "unveil" Harvey's plaque.  Of course it isn't really an unveiling, more of an unplasticking, because we'll peel back a piece of black plastic. I keep making lists of all the things I need to do before then, in case I forget something vital. Unfortunately the forecast isn't good, but I'm hoping it will just be showers and not settled rain. I think I'll feel both better and worse when it's over - I'm pleased to have the plaque completed, but it also feels like the last thing I can do for him; after that, there's nothing for it but just to carry on alone, through Christmas and beyond.

           It's been, well, interesting over the last week or so, as the cards have started to arrive and the get-togethers have got under way. In a spirit of pure helpfulness (what else?) I thought it would be good to set down a few insider's hints on how and how not to deal with people like me at this time of year.

1. Cards require more thought than usual. Try not to send your bereaved friends and relations Christmas cards that are overly cheerful and upbeat. Jolly Santas etc. should be avoided in favour of something a little more soothing - doves or other birds are good. 

2. Cards that feature messages urging the recipient to have a "merry", "jolly" or "wonderful" Christmas/holiday/festive season/New Year, when that is the last thing they'll be doing, will not go down well. A simple "Season's Greetings" is fine. Writing something inside that shows you've remembered what's happened since last Christmas, and know merriness is off this year, will be greatly appreciated.

3. At seasonal gatherings, try not to wax too eloquent about the happy holiday you're about to have with your partner. On the other hand, don't go in for arch complaints about having your partner around either. Doing either of these things will just hammer home the fact of partnerlessness.

4. Don't ask the bereaved person what he/she is doing at Christmas unless you really want to know. And don't make vague noises along the lines of "must have you round some time after Christmas" (often followed by "Of course we're away for two weeks, but maybe after that...") If you really do want and intend to have them round, come up with an actual day/night they can put in their (often alarmingly blank) post-Christmas diaries - the details can be sorted out later.

5. Please don't try to buck the person up by pointing out that there are many worse off than them, and/or helping some of these people out would be a great way to take their minds off themselves and their own troubles. They probably won't tell you to sod off, but they will want to.

The ghosts of Christmas past

As I'm sure everyone who reads this blog will understand, I'm not exactly looking forward to Christmas this year. I'll be with friends on the day itself, of course, but that still leaves Christmas Eve, and Boxing Day, and all the rest of it. We used to love Boxing Day, we would sit around and nibble on leftovers and read our Christmas books, outside in the sunny garden if we were lucky, with a glass of Harvey's home-made ginger beer.
          Of course I'll Manage, as other widows and widowers do. I'll Take Steps to make sure I've got things to do and people to see. But the ghosts of Christmas past will inevitably come crowding in, all the same.
           Meanwhile the roses are out. My own Remember Me rose, the one we planted two gardens ago for Patrick, has definitely survived last summer's ordeal by weedkiller, but it's not going to do much in the way of flowering this year. On Monday my heighbour Jenn came over to bring me the first bud from hers. Now it's gone from its deep russet early colour to full salmony bloom. Here it is with a photo from Farm Road days.

The day after the night before

I won't get started on what was depressing about last night, quite apart from the fact that Harvey, who was a total political junkie, wasn't there to sit through it with me - I did have two good friends to keep me company. One small mercy is that Don Brash didn't get in on John Banks' coat-tails, and looks likely to at last stop trying. One larger mercy is that MMP will stay. Just as well, because the results proved yet again that without it, women fare badly - they now hold only 18 of the 70 electorate seats.
         Today, with my friends from last night plus Ali, I took refuge in a glorious Karori garden tour. One of the houses we went to was originally the farm cottage for the 150 acre dairy farm which existed in Parkvale Road until 1904. Katherine Mansfield wrote about visiting it as a child, and I found it oddly comforting to think she had been there. I'm so sorry Harvey couldn't have seen it - but of course I think that about something at least once a week.

And here's a beautiful kiwi sculpture from another garden - somewhat subdued, but still standing...

Something to think about for election day tomorrow

I think child poverty is the most crucial issue facing our country - I hope you saw the documentary shown on TV3 this week. This is my last post before the election tomorrow, so I've decided to pass on a short version of what the Child Poverty Action Group has to say about the idea that solving child poverty is sole parents' responsibility - all they have to do is get paid work. You can read the full statement on the CPAG website . If you missed the documentary, it's being replayed by TV3 on Sunday at 1 pm, or you can watch it here. 

According to the 2010 General Social Survey, sole parents with children are the poorest family group in New Zealand. 70% have incomes of $30,000 or less – the highest percentage of any group – while only 4% have incomes over $70,000 (the lowest of any group). Well over a third, 38%, describe themselves as not having enough to get by, more than double the next highest group (17% of those ‘not in a family’). Almost half report living in a house or flat with ‘a major problem’ (like the mouldy houses in the TV programme), a much higher proportion than the general population (37%). Sole parents are more likely than any other group to feel ‘unsafe/very unsafe’ walking alone in their neighbourhoods at night. Not surprisingly, one in seven sole parents, a higher proportion than any other group, report their general health status as ‘poor/fair’.
So this economically depressed group, more likely to be suffering poor health than the rest of the population, with an even chance of living in shabby housing in a neighbourhood in which they will feel unsafe walking home from the night shift, will be required to find 15 hours per week of paid work when their eldest child turns 5. When the children are attending school, 15 hours work per week hardly sounds onerous, and many sole parents (usually those with good support networks) manage this. But imagine living in a suburb some distance from family, with poor public transport, few childcare facilities, and the nearest employment hub is only offering jobs for night shift workers. Does Work and Income cut a mother’s benefit for turning down that ‘suitable’ employment at the local massage parlour (and there is mounting anecdotal evidence that this is happening)? Suppose the 5 year-old gets sick and needs hospital care (as shown in the TV programme)? Suddenly that 15 hours is a lot of time and effort.

Sole parents whose youngest child is 14 will be expected to look for full-time paid work. In the language of the government, they will be ‘encouraged’ to do so by being put onto what will be called a Jobseeker Allowance, which will replace the unemployment benefit (UB) and sickness benefit. At present sole parents on either UB or SB are paid the same rate as sole parents on a Domestic Purposes Benefit (DPB). It is not clear at this stage if it is intended for these rates to remain in place, or if parents with children aged 14 and over will be moved onto the lower single person’s benefit rate. If so, this would equate to a benefit cut of over $80 per week.

Many sole parents with older children already work full time, but evidence suggests it can be difficult. There is often a small army of family and neighbours supporting the in-work project and it takes little to disrupt the smooth operation of the household. Radio New Zealand’s Mary Wilson suggested to the Minister of Social Development, Paula Bennett, that 14 year olds required even more supervision than younger children. The Minister replied that it was legal to leave 14 year olds home alone. Arguing that something is appropriate because it is legal shows a profound lack of ethics or understanding (or both) on the Minister’s part

There is nothing about the state of the labour market to suggest that changes to social assistance will improve the lives of those on a benefit, notwithstanding claims that work is the way out of poverty. Rather, although the government claimed its policies were aimed at closing New Zealand’s income gap with Australia (although that policy appeared to be formally abandoned in early 2011), the widening gap suggests that increasing the pool of cheap, desperate labour is in reality a strategy to reduce labour costs for employers. With a median hourly income for part-time female workers being just $16 per hour (bear in mind that the median means half earn less than this), a sole parent working 15 hours would receive just $135 of her gross wages of $240 after taxes and loss of benefit, hardly enough to cover transport and childcare costs.

For sickness beneficiaries, their returns from work are even less as they lose their benefit at a rate of 70c in the dollar from earned income over $80. Indeed, with little or no job creation occurring in the economy, and some beneficiaries facing effective marginal tax rates approaching 90 cents in the dollar, it is difficult to see what purpose the government has in mind for its welfare reforms to achieve, other than increasing the pool of low-skilled labour.

Job growth is sluggish, and well short of the 170,000 jobs the government claimed (in both the 2010 and 2011 budgets) would be created. Those jobs will be required just to absorb those currently unemployed, let alone a new cohort of harassed sole parents, as well as school leavers and university graduates. Work will not be the way out of poverty. Wages for unskilled occupations are low, and increase well below the rate of inflation...
National has been selling its economic plan as one that will produce a skilled, innovative economy. So far it looks more like one designed to produce an unskilled, low wage workforce, with the child poverty that inevitably seems to go with such backward policies.