Friends are the families we choose for ourselves

I'm really blessed with the friends in my life. What I probably should do is pick up the phone and thank them personally for all their imput into our lives, but I'm too busy (lazy) to do that. This post will have to suffice. I have a definition of family in my mind. However, after my mother's death, my immediate family (and by that I'm talking about my brother) has fallen apart. I remember how after her funeral, he got into his car and drove off and I literally didn't see him for weeks. Then he pulled himself together and got back into the routine of coming over for dinner and movie nights again. Then he met his girlfriend and suffice it to say, that was the end of dinner at our place with him. I grieved his absence more than I did the loss of my mother. Because at least with her, I KNEW she wasn't coming back. It's been a painful process, this dealing with the loss of my brother. This is where friends come in. I'm a firm believer that people come in to your lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I have a lot of people I classify as friends, but only a handful of them have made it into the inner sanctum. Some of these people I have known for a lifetime indeed. Others I have met while travelling through life. Then others have popped up in an absolute astounding way and stuck around when I was sure they wouldn't. Let me tell you about the latest addition to my inner sanctum. They are a wonderful group of women who I met through a knitting and crochet website. Of all the places. The first day I met them, I would never have laid money on them becoming people I would call my family. Yet, this common thread of craftiness has woven its threads through our lives and I would absolutely call them my family now. Indeed. They are. Our move to Kyneton has meant that I have taken myself away from where the majority of these women live. Sometimes I feel very far away from what's going on with them. Sometimes I feel not part of them at all. But that is only me being silly and insecure, because I know this is not the case. I know that these women are the most reliable people in the world, who ARE there for me whenever I need them. Amazing. I may have lost a brother over the last two years, but I have gained many sisters in his stead. And let me tell you, a girl will never let you down...

Requiem

Finally, after a second visit to Saigon in the last four years, I got to visit the War Remnants Museum. I've always been intrigued/fascinated by the Vietnam War era, have studied the history of it in school and university, read biographies, autobiographies, talked to returned Veterans about their experiences and still nothing prepared me for this confronting experience when I finally got there.

I went alone, which is a good thing. It was the kind of thing you either have to do by yourself, or with the right person. The photographs, the images, the displays...they are etched into my mind and soul and will never be eradicated. I would walk through the different areas, looking and reading, with tears streaming down my face and would have to sit in the foyer to compose myself before going in to the next exhibit.

Some people took photos of everything. I found that once inside, I did not take a single picture. I couldn't. Some things just are better off in your mind's eye and not something you need to bring home to show your family. Not the sort of pictures for family slide night, for sure.

The things that were seen cannot be unseen and although knowledge is power, one cannot help but be affected by the stories in this museum. The human side of the war, from all perspectives. I'll give them that, the Vietnamese did a good job of exhibiting not just their own casualties of war, but made sure there was coverage of all parties. Ultimately, what they provide is a place of reflection that makes certain you understand that there are no winners in wartime. Everyone pays a price. Most often, a price that is still being paid, long after the declarations of peace have been made.