Zarifeh - Grief on the Run

Contents

Acknowledgements

This book is for my remaining two absolutely beloved and cherished children, Jared and Kristi. I am so sad for both of you that you had to experience such terrible loss at such an early age. Your father, Paul, and your brother, Sam, loved you both to bits, and they would be enormously proud of how you have both conducted yourselves over the past two yearsas am I.

To contemplate thanking, personally, each and every person who has offered their support in some way over the past few years is impossible. That would be a book in itself ! On top of that, as you are about to read, life has just been so busy and I have connected with so many people to whom I am so incredibly grateful. I would never forgive myself should I inadvertently overlook acknowledging or thanking any one person or group. I sincerely hope that I have expressed my gratitude in person, along the way, but if I havent: thank you. Really. From the bottom of my heart. Quite frankly, it is the love, support and encouragement from my family, my friends and my connectionsnew and oldthat has got me through.

Special mention, however, to Michelle, Clair and Jane. Love you, guys! Each of you has gone above and beyond, in your respective ways, and I couldnt have made it through these past few years without you.

Forever indebted,

xoxox Julie

Authors note

When you are inspired by some great purpose, some extraordinary project, all your thoughts break their bonds. Your mind transcends limitations, your consciousness expands in every direction, and you find yourself in a new, great and wonderful world.

Dormant forces, faculties and talents become alive, and you discover yourself to be a greater person by far than you ever dreamed yourself to be.

PATAJALI

I wrote this book because I felt an enormous urge to do so. It was a story that just needed to come out. I hoped that writing it might help me to move forward in the healthiest and most productive way possible after the deaths of my husband, Paul, and my elder son, Sam. I wrote to try to comprehend, process andultimatelyaccept it all.

In order to try to remain positive and keep moving forward after such overwhelming and unanticipated loss, I deliberately set myself a series of Big Hairy Audacious Goals (BHAGs). Writing this book was just one such BHAG. To begin with, I thought I was writing for me and my family and friendsfor my surviving children, Jared and Kristi; for my grandchildren and future generations, cheated out of meeting their grandfather and uncle; and for the friends who have travelled with me on this journey. I didnt necessarily think it would go much further than that. The idea that it could have a broader reach only dawned on me when people started suggesting it. Perhaps, as people kept saying, my tale might help others?

What follows is a very personal account of my passage through bereavement. I am not quite there yet. I possibly never will be, not fully. However, writing this memoir has, for the most part, been a cathartic experience. There have been times when I have sat writing while the tears have silently streamed down my face, and other times when my body has been wracked by convulsing, all-consuming sobs. But, for each sad time, there has also been a happy one: I have found myself repeatedly smiling, laughing out loud, reminiscing and rejoicing in my recollections of Paul and Sam, and of our family. I feel so lucky to have such a rich life. I have so many wonderful memories.

Grief on the Run was originally scheduled for release in June 2020. Unfortunately, however, that plan was thwarted by yet another adversity: this time a global pandemic that swept the world! Who would have thought?

The Covid-19 crisis has affected each and every citizen of this world in some way, and will continue to have long-lasting ramifications across a number of lifes domainssome of which may have been taken for granted up until now. It is my belief, however, that the messages and themes in the second half of this book hold true, and that adopting this kind of approach can enable us to cope withand even embracea changed future. As humans we are still able to connect with each other in meaningful ways, we are still able to share (of ourselves; of our resources), and we are still able to choose what we focus on. We can continue to learn and appreciate; we can set our minds to remaining as active and healthy as possible. We can choose the behaviours we endorse and the perceptions we adopt, and thus respond positively to adversity.

It is my hope that you will take heart from my story. I hope you will see that even after significant loss there is still so much hope, joy and love to be experienced in life. It might be in a different context than you anticipated, but it is still there.

Remembering this has been my way of coping. May it help and inspire. For, at the end of the day, true grief is the price you pay for true love.

JULIE ZARIFEH

MARCH 2021

Prologue

I will never, ever forget the moment I received the call that every mother dreads.

It was Saturday, 9 December 2017, around 10.30 p.m., and I had just come out of a movie with my friend and colleague Michelle McCarthy. I looked down at my phone and saw I had missed a call from another close friend, who was also my neighbour, Colleen Naylor. Shed left a message.

Hi, Julie, she said. I dont want to alarm you, but can you please call us back when you pick this up? Weve had a couple of young policemen here looking for you. They wondered if we could try to track you down. Theyre going to return in an hour or so. Give me a call when you pick this up. I have no idea what they want, by the way.

A wave of nausea crashed over me. I turned deathly white, and my breath caught in my throat. My thoughts went immediately to my elder son, Sam. He was away on a rafting trip on the Landsborough River in Haast, over on the West Coast of New Zealands South Island. Id been feeling antsy all day, and somehowcall it maternal intuitionI just knew it had to be about Sam, even before I called Colleen back.

I had driven the two of us to the movies in my car, but now I was in no state to drive, so Michelle had to drive me home from the cinema in central Christchurch. The journey was surreal. I can still see the moon hanging over the estuary, its glittering light flickering across the waters surface, and the glow from the houses scattered across the Port Hills at the citys edge. I gripped onto the sides of the passenger seat and concentrated on trying to breathe deeply, while Michelle valiantly commandeered the controls of my new car and kept up a cheerful patter of distracting conversation.

Its probably nothing, she said hopefully. Or maybe its something to do with Gussie? she suggested, referring to my little cocker spaniel.

Im worried about Sam, I confessed. Its been pouring on the coast today. I knowIll call him.

As I began dialling, Michelle said, Dont read anything into it if it goes to voicemail. Hes probably out of cover.

Sure enough, it went straight through to voicemail. I tried again and again and again, but without success. I clutched my phone and found every possible reason I could for why Sam wasnt picking up.

As we crossed Ferrymead Bridge on our way towards the seaside suburb of Sumner, I felt a profound sense of dj vu. Ive been here before, I thought, and indeed I hadbut not in a car. Eight years before, on 22 February 2011, following the devastating earthquake that felled so much of our city, Id picked my way through liquefaction, in my high heels, Sumner-bound. That day, too, my breathing had been shallow and the adrenaline coursed through me as I wondered what awaited me at home.