The Patty project

When I was a young teen, I saw Ice-T in concert at the Enmore Theatre (in Sydney) ; I went with my sister and her friends, who were all hardcore into hip-hop, and the majority were Street artists (bombers, taggers and writers OSB & PN Queens I believe ).

At that time, all I knew about Ice-T was the song Colors from the Colors Movie soundtrack that was released in 1988 (I could possibly still rap it to this day but won’t if you asked me ) and that he had a unique voice, looked to have a lot of attitude and also identified him by the large breasted, scantily dressed women in his video clips and alum covers.

I have a few ingrained memories from that night, possibly 32-35 years ago.

When these memories come up, I wonder if my sister were alive today and if she’d have similar memories to mine.

Sadly, a few from that group of friends have already passed (so young, they’d just be 50-ish if still alive).

A couple of the girls are still going strong, and both have many memories of my sister. I think of them as I write this.

Grief is weird; I enjoyed listening to this podcast and took in a lot of interesting information, but what I did not expect to experience were the memories of my sister and how they came flooding back.

I have accepted her passing and the loss attached; I am pretty familiar with the thoughts and memories that come sporadically, and at times, a teardrop or two falls unexpectedly, and I let them.

I choose not to live with regret, and when times get tough, I remind myself that to date, I’ve been gifted a longer life than she did, so I try to take the good with the bad, and I keep trying to move forward.

When I sat driving listening to this podcast, I was physically uncomfortable and in pain (as I have been for months on end now); I remember her final hours and the pain she felt as she asked me to help make it stop.

I was given the ‘job’ of signing the form that would put that pain to a permanent end, so when she looked at me face to face, eyes to eyes as we held her, trying to hold her up from falling, I made the hard decision to do as she asked.

I called a nurse, and she looked at me, eye to eye, as my sister had done a few moments before, and she left to return with a document to sign and a syringe filled with a liquid that would end that pain for good.

My sister was slumped in an armchair. The nurse injected the syringe, and it was like we could feel the energy in her body releasing the pain and suffering.

For the first time in a very long time, she was resting, so my mum and I lay together on the hospital bed, hoping to rest until she needed us again.

We heard a loud sigh come from my sister, and that was the last breath of life that she released.

She was leaving us and let us know with that final breath.

Her long, painful battle was over; it wasn’t the battle with cancer that she was released from. It was also a release from mental illness, self-sabotage, additional needs and layers of abuse.

At times, I’m not sure of how to process my sadness or my grief, but when I get stuck, I am reminded of the horrid pain she was in and how I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

Her time on earth had ended, regardless of how or why it was her time, and she left.

We have memories, but sadly, many are riddled with traces of her mental illness, less than favourable choices and, at times, reflections of pain and suffering.

I often feel her presence and see many of her strong will and traits in 2 out of 3 of my children and in one of my strong-willed granddaughters.

We had life-long sibling issues that caused havoc and breakdown; they, like many experiences, have contributed to making this current version of Patty and more than likely contributed to the pain, suffering and dis-ease I carried.

Life has been tricky; navigating relationships and trying to satisfy everyone whilst pushing my needs and well-being aside has not proven positive in any way for me.

Regardless of how much I try or what I try, there’s always something or someone upset, unsatisfied or feeling victimised, and there’s nothing that I can do about that because how one chooses to act, feel or respond is one’s personal choice.

So, as of today, I choose me.

I love my lot, but I need to love and care for myself more, and it starts right now as I sit here in the car park of Kings Park Tavern with the aircon blasting in my face whilst it is 31 degrees outside, and I am sitting on a pillow trying to comfort my discomfort.

It may seem like an Ice-T podcast triggered me, but it didn’t. It’s moments like these where I’m reminded of my true, authentic self and the power I have to improve my life that I feel inspired to do so (but Ice-T and my sister did play a part ).

I release what does not serve me once and for all .

……Madness, insanity, live in profanity

Then some punk claimin’ they’re understandin’ me

Give me a break; what world do you live in

Death is my sect, guess my religion… Colors.