Mum. Unedited.

Human. My brother was born in Kolkata in February 1982. He was a beautiful baby - the apple of my mother's eye. His striking golden locks and light skin made him inescapable. He was full of adventure. Afraid of nothing. Mum always worried he'd hurt himself. He wasn't allowed a bike until after he was 10. And this one time he jumped off the mezzanine floor at a holiday house. He thought he was superman. His fondness for mountains developed early, probably through the numerous holidays my parents took in the Himalayas, Bhutan and Nepal. All of his childhood photos have him brandishing his signature smile with a backdrop of snow covered mountains. He didn't really showcase his intellect until he was sent to boarding school. But school really brought out the best in him. He was athletic, intelligent, loyal and committed. For the last 20 years he called Australia home. He travelled a lot, but always found his way back here. It was probably because of the easy l...

Seconds turned to minutes. I couldn't breathe. I let out a visceral cry - a sound I never knew I had in me. Hands shaking. Vision blurred. My heart felt a crushing pain as though someone had just stepped on it. It scared my two and half year old so much that in front of my eyes he grew old enough to be able to say 'Mum I'm here'. Minutes turned to hours. I called the Deparment of Foreign Affairs and Trade to let them know that my brother had just died in on the Matterhorn. Surreal. I called my brother's girlfriend. That conversation was short, maybe 10 seconds. She said she had to go. I finally found the courage to call my parents. My mum collapsed to the ground, and my dad didn't get a chance to react because he knew he had to be there for her. I couldn't do anything for them because they were miles away, in India. Later in the evening I called Inspector Kuonen at Zermatt police. He informed me that they had him in their possession. What a str...

Yesterday we went to the coast for the first time since my brother died. We used to all go to the coast together every year. At least one trip if not more. Hire a house by the beach. Drink wine. Play Pictionary. Take walks on the beach at sunset. Just for a couple of days. But they were perfect days. It was hard this time around. As one would expect. It's always hard to do something for the first time since you last shared the same experience with someone you love. Knowing it will never be the same again. I felt sad knowing how much my son would've enjoyed having him there. And then it dawned on me, one day soon... all the firsts will end. This was the first time we went down the beach without him. But the next time won't be. This trip to the coast was special. The next one won't be. And soon.. one day, there will be no more firsts. I remember the first time I ate a Toblerone after his death, the first time I drank Veuve Cliquot without him. The first time I went...

My brother died last July. He was 37. He was climbing a mountain in Switzerland. A large rockfall took down both him and his guide. They fell nearly 700m. To their deaths. Or at least I hope so. It took emergency personnel 9 hours to rescue them, so I hope they weren't lying on the mountain in their broken bodies waiting for life to leave them. This was his second attempt at the mountain. Life doesn't give you second chances. He should've known that. I didn't mean that. One life fades... Death is certainly all the cliches you hear, and more. In one moment everything can be different. Except it's like that for every moment. We are just too busy to notice. I still have all his bags and climbing gear, posted back to me from Chamonix, sitting in my son's wardrobe waiting patiently to be unpacked. I can't even let go of the postage stamp. I did have to go through his suitcase to pull out the 4 blocks of Italian chocolate from Torino. The chocolate...

I'm afraid of even saying so... in case I 'jinx' it. Why is it so hard to make friends when you get older? Maybe cool  is different now, and I'm not cool  anymore. I know I thought I was, once. When I was at University, I felt like an invincible 20-something year old, independent, free-thinking physicist. Anyway, I digress. I have a new friend. And she thinks I am all of those things - except a nearly 40-something year old. Perhaps it is only I that thinks less of me now. I no longer feel invincible. I've had plenty of rejections to know that I'm not THAT special. Sure, I'm intelligent, independent, problem-solver and I usually get what I want. But not always, and I have to work for it. I've seen it come easy to some, but not that easy for me. Don't get me wrong, I live a pretty easy and privelleged life. But I also know that it takes work. Stuff isn't always black and white, and sometimes you need to break your own rules to get ahead. Yo...

Happy new year for all those folks (not) reading this blog! I FEEL good today, the first day of the new year. Probably because I didn't drink last night and went to bed at a decent (10:30pm) time! Thought it appropriate to start the new year not feeling shite  like most other years, and most other people! So, what are my new year's resolutions, you ask? I don't have any actually. No resolutions. Just a promise to make a conscious effort to do some things differently. This is a big year for me. Or I would like to make it a big year for me. I'm turning 40. I want to use this as an opportunity to re-evaluate what I want from my life, and where I would've liked to be when I was 40. I know, the cliched version of turning 40. So here's some of the things I've thought of that I want to change. 1. I want to be fit when I turn 40. My version of fit of course. A realistic version of a better me. 2. I want to spend the first month doing 30 days of yoga - ...

And here we are again. My son is so grown up now. Almost 2! I feel I have grown too. Things have started to settle down. I feel like I have created my own flow... I am flowing better. I feel like I can rely on my instincts again. It's funny how when life gets cloudy, you lose your instinct. Your best judge. When you need it most. Or maybe it's the other way, when you lose your best judge, life gets cloudy. I don't know. Hubby and I are also settling in together for the long haul. We are laughing more, cherishing more, loving each other more. The lines on our faces are forever though. I inch forward into the unknown feeling more confident that my compass is working again, the stars will guide me...