Senior

Winner

Sarah Scopelianos (17), Preston, VIC
[Santa Maria College]

Highly Commended

Belinda Price (14), Invermay Park, VIC
[Ballarat Secondary College, Wendouree Campus]

 

Junior

Winner

Sera Borensztajn (10), Toorak, VIC
[Mount Scopus Memorial College]

Highly Commended

Kimberley Adler (12), South Caulfield, VIC
[Mount Scopus Memorial College]

Dean Marcus (10), East Brighton, VIC
[Mount Scopus Memorial College]

Life takes some unexpected twists and turns throughout its time. This story is no different. It is a section of my memoir that spans barely five months of my life. It is definitely a sequence of events that has allowed me to develop as a person. An event I shall never forget. An event that has placed my life into perspective, I have gained hope and courage that otherwise would have gone undeveloped.

My relationships with people have changed as a result. A memory so painful but that triggers memories of the happier times of the past and the thoughts of the future.

Monday July 26, 1999

One phone call, so few words and my life has darkened. Tonight my worst fear was realised. My Pa has a tumour. Not any tumour, a brain tumour. My throat feels as if it's swelling. My eyes sting and seem to be bottomless wells of salty water. One phone call has changed the meaning of my life. I have so many images that are running through my head. It's like a never-ending theatre production. The genre is deep, powerful, passionate, a story of life. The actors are my family. The story keeps changing. It is sometimes happy and other times the story is very depressing and miserable.

Tears keep forming and rolling continuously down my cheeks. I reflect on the times I spent with Grandpa. I think we always spent time together because our personalities are so different but we have the same sense of humour. There has always been that sense of belonging. I remember my lousy attempt at golf where the golf ball remained at my feet after many attempted swings of the golf stick. Our jokes and laughter at the dinner table, the usual chatter of us grandkids with him. Pa taught me how to ride my bike. Christmas Day, cricket at the Filer household was a tradition. He taught me to bat, field and bowl particularly well. Pas was always active, but now? I fear the worst. What sort of person am I? I complain about life and yet I forget those who have lost the battle of their lives or are losing the battle. I don't want to walk into a sterile cancer ward to visit my Grandpa. I'm scared, I'm scared for him, for Grandma and me. He's not allowed to die, not now. He's always been strong, he's not allowed to go now, not now.

What would I do without Pa? I'd be lost. Who would make fun for us when we went to dinner? Who else could play with food at the dinner table and not get in trouble? More importantly who would be the one-eyed magpie supporter in the family?

I wish I could be strong. I wish this because I want to be strong for him. To show that I care but to also show that I believe that he will improve and get better after the operation. I wish I could be brave. I just cry because there is nothing else I feel like doing. I feel that I have been cheated. I don't want Pa to grow sick. I don't want to remember in years time Pa being sick. I want to remember him strong and active. The way he was.

Tuesday 27 July, 1999

I haven't told anyone about him. I feel I'm missing something. I always questioned my faith in God. So will he help me now? I feel dark, trapped and depressed. I am trapped because I want to tell somebody, anybody, but I can't. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm frightened that people won't understand or care. I mean it is my Pa, not theirs. Would they care? Really how can God make Pa sick and try to take him away from me? He's never done anything wrong! Never.

Wednesday 28 July, 1999

I saw Pa after school today. Pa was sort of the way I remembered him. He didn't look sick but there was something not right. He's physically there in the room with you but he is not listening. He was quieter than usual; I want my old Pa back. That one that talks a lot and jokes about. This one doesn't do that. Pa's going to have an operation to remove the tumour soon. Maybe he's not listening to me because he is scared of what might happen? Maybe he's scared and feels exactly the way I feel, not able to tell anyone? I hope after the operation is over I get my old Pa back. I miss him so much.

Sunday 1 August, 1999

I'm frightened. What happens if this is the last time that I ever see him? My last words to him will haunt me forever. They were the worst words I could have ever used. What was I thinking? 'I'll see you soon.'

It's not a very strong last line. I thought these words would be of comfort, until I said them. The more I think about Pa, the more times those four words repeat in my head. 'I'll see you soon. I see you soon.' Even now they are getting muddled. 'Soon I'll see you. I'll soon see you.'

Now where do I turn? I walked away, my eyes gradually filling with tears. I didn't have streams of tears. I didn't want him to worry about me. I think I made Pa cry too. This made me feel so guilty. Why did I say that? Why then? I think he doubts that he will see us again. After my words ''ll see you soon' I am beginning to doubt that I will ever see him again.

Monday 2 August, 1999

Mum went and saw him today. What did they talk about? Grandma rang from the hospital tonight. Pa wouldn't talk to us on the phone. Why didn't he talk to me or at least mum? Maybe he felt that enough was enough? He didn't want to worry us any more. This made me feel worse. Maybe it was what I said yesterday. Pa's only reply 'I've said enough.' There are so many things to say and he's said enough!

Tuesday 3 August, 1999

I lost my composure. I finally burst. I hid it so long from everyone; it was bound to happen. I cried and cried after Morning Prayer. Why did I do that? Isn't God the power that is to help? I don't know, just a thought. Today is the day, the operation. That sounds so grim. I can't handle it; words can't describe my pain. I tried to tell one of my friends why I cried. I just sat down and cried some more. I needed someone to tell me it was okay to cry. It was terrible but people do get better from things like this. I felt a lot better after crying. It was finally out in the open I didn't have to tell anyone because everyone now knew Pa was sick.

Thursday 5 August, 1999

We went into the hospital tonight. I thought that Pa would be dazed, bruised and battered. I expected to see machines around his bed and the smell of the hospital disinfectant in the air. Pa was happy to see us all; there could have been some relief as well. He looks a lot better than I thought he would. No bruises, just seventeen stitches on the left side of Pa's head.

Pa's well but he keeps forgetting things, little things. That part that makes me the saddest and most tearful, is that he knows and it frustrates him that he is forgetting things. His face is blank when he tries to remember. You know he's searching for the word or the name but he can't remember. By his facial expressions I could tell sometimes he had given up on trying to remember the name of the person we were talking about. I hope he will never forget me! Surely he wouldn't forget family. I'm worried, what if he forgets me! It hasn't happened yet and I don't ever want that to happen!

Sunday 14 August, 1999

Pa is well health wise. He just forgets more little things. That's not my Pa. He is getting better, I hope. Maybe this was all part of God's plan? Maybe I have been greedy, in keeping Pa for as long as I have? Maybe you can have too much on one good thing? Too much Pa? Never.

Thursday 16 December, 1999

Time has lapsed since I have last written. Pa is well and finished ray treatment. Christmas is coming soon and we have started preparation for that. I must admit that I am very grateful that he is still here with me. He will see me grow up and he will teach me how to drive a car very soon. I take a look around at all the things I should be grateful for and I am extremely grateful that Pa is here for me. I look to the sky and whisper 'Thank you. I don't know how, when, or why you have given him another chance but I thank you for that.'

 

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I have to admit that when I was younger I was quite a bit of a troublemaker. My parents would always say, 'If you can manage not to be cheeky or stubborn for one month you will get the toy you were supposed to get three months ago.' But of course I never managed to get the toy I wanted.

I was only four when I got lost but I remember the experience like it was yesterday. We were on Lindeman Island and that is where all the excitement began. We were having breakfast somewhere about five minutes away from the hotel. Suddenly I just had the urge to go to the toilet, so when my family wasn't looking I snuck under the table, dodged through chairs and ran out the door. That's where I caught a shuttle to take me back to our hotel. The only reason why the driver let me on was because there was a lady going on the same shuttle as me and the driver thought she was my mother. When I was on the shuttle the driver kept on asking me questions. 'Do you have any brothers or sisters? Do you like chocolate?' I think he was surprised that my bus mother did not pay any attention to me.

Once I had got off the shuttle, I ran into the lobby of our hotel. I ran up two lots of stairs, ran past three pools and ran into four people. When I finally got to our hotel room I ran as fast as I possibly could until I finally reached the bathroom. When I came out, feeling very relieved, thoughts started swimming through my mind. Where were my parents? Then I realised that I had forgotten to tell them where I had gone. I felt scared, lonely and terrified all at the same time. Then I did what all children would do in my position, I watched television.

I didn't begin to imagine the panic and fear that my family felt when they couldn't find me. I didn't really think of their feelings I think I was too busy worrying about my own problems and that episode of the Cooking show was teaching me how to cook a lobster. This is a skill that all four year olds need to know.

Well that's pretty much it, but after all my parents did find me.

When they found me I knew they were really angry that I ran away because they said, 'You'd better have learnt your lesson from this, because if you ever run away again we're not coming after you.' But I knew they were happy I didn't get hurt or anything and I also didn't believe that they would ever leave me to get lost without searching for me.

I have learnt a lesson from this experience. It taught me to think of others first and not just to think of myself and never to run away again.

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This page updated: 23 January 2006 Webmaker: Howard Smith. hsmith4@une.edu.au