It’s been a busy time: a massive move from one end of the South Island to the other, finishing my manuscript for A Counter of Moons, and opening for submissions with Elixir & Star Press (ESP*). If you’re a creative, located in Aotearoa New Zealand, we’re open for submissions until the 20th of May. Here’s the link to ESP* https://elixirandstarpress.wordpress.com
It’s been heartening to see so many submissions on grief. I’ll have the slightly overwhelming job next month of reading everything, and then beginning the process of laying out the inaugural Elixir & Star Press Almanac. The more I mention ESP* the more people seem to open up, because grief, being the universal experience that it is, needs to be talked about.
My loving gratitude to Dunedin UNESCO City of Literature for supporting my work over the past decade. To live in a city where literature is not only celebrated but encouraged was incredible. I met and befriended some fantastic writers, and was repeatedly humbled by the aroha that came my way after Reuben died. Whakawhetai ki a koutou, thank you so very much. It may come as a surprise that I’ve moved away from Dunedin – all I can say is that I needed to slip out the back door quietly. It had become too painful, coexisting with memories of my tama and navigating a grief that won’t ever leave me. It had also become too painful, since my mesh-removal surgery, because let’s face it Dunedin is freakin cold in wintertime. For anyone living with a mesh injury, the weather has a huge impact on our wellbeing.
Next week, is Reuben’s 29th birthday. When I was 29, he was 4. It continues to be unfathomable that he’s not here with us. And, with the release of another of his Totems tracks coming up, and Mother’s Day, the waves surge and I’m called back into my hermit’s cave.
This is the reality of living with grief – immense grief.
Mamae me te aroha; pain and love coexist. We cannot know one without the other.
I’m in awe of all the mothers who lost multiple children to other people’s wars. I’m in awe of all the mothers who are left bereft after the death of a child, and still find ways to keep living. And I’m in awe of the loving support, from a few close people, who’ve continued to unconditionally be there right alongside me. Nui te aroha ki a koutou.
This Mother’s Day (tomorrow here in Aotearoa NZ) I’m sending aroha to the Mums who are grieving the absence of their children, and I’ll be taking myself off for a walk. Iona x
Iona Winter 
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