someone's mother

i think the hardest thing about this work is that the stories just don't stop. every night there are more. that probably explains why i've struggled to post since deano's death. there are so many stories to tell. each as important as the last, which ones do i share? how do you put into words the agony, loneliness and desperation of the people behind the stories?

last night i met someone who stood out. someone's story that had to be told. someone's mother.

we pulled up in a main street in the city around 10.15.
not far from where we parked we could see a trolley stacked high with belongings. it was like something from an american tv show and i expected to see the stereo-typical american tv show homeless guy sitting behind the trolley.
instead there was a well dressed middle aged woman.
she was about the same age and build as my mum, she even had the same funky colours in her hair.
i wasn't sure if she was homeless, she looked 'normal'. sometimes when we approach people with our big red shield jackets and ask someone -who turns out to be waiting for a bus- if they'd like a coffee they get quite shirty. "no i certainly don't, i'm waiting for a bus".
not this time.
we asked this lady if she would like a coffee and there and then the tears started.
she was all alone. sitting there on that bench she had all of her earthly belongings (in nice luggage with the exception of the one large plastic garbage bag) and no-one in the world to turn to. it made no sense.
we sat and chatted for a while.
this lovely lady had left an abusive husband in brisbane when she finally couldn't take one more beating.
she was a nurse who until 'escaping' had worked full time in a hospital. her mum had just passed away leaving her all alone in brisbane except for her abusive husband.
she came to victoria to the only family she has left, her son -who it turns out is my age- and his wife and child in bendigo.
she fitted in well to her son's home and thoroughly enjoyed being a live in grandma. as she told the stories of spending time in a loving family unit, looking after her son, his wife and spoiling her grandchild her face lit up and i imagine her heart did too.

her son works the mines in w.a and after a month of living in seeming bliss, having escaped a brutal husband, everything changed for this lovely, loving mother and grandmother.
almost as soon as her son went back to the mine his wife turned nasty. she was rude, aggressive and very un-welcoming to this brave survivor.
eventually after around a week things came to a head and after ignoring her mother in law for a week, this heartless woman turned to her one day and told her to get out of their house because her son hated her.
hated her.
it couldn't be true. it makes no sense. but it didn't matter. words hurt and these words carried a lot of pain.
she had been kicked out of her son's house with no way of contacting him and only her daughter-in-laws harsh, horrible words in her mind. she carried her things to the train station and got on a train.
now she sat on a bench in the middle of melbourne at 10.30 at night. no where to go. no one to go to and with a gaping hole in her heart.
where was she going? back to brisbane to the only people she knows. where would she live? she didn't know. one idea she had was to buy a tent and go to a caravan park but she wasn;t sure if she'd have enough money.
we offered her a place in a women's refuge but she refused, too proud i guess. no matter how hard we tried to help, to get her to a safe place, she steadfastly denied our help and was certain that she had to escape again. she was going to wait until morning and catch the first bus to brisbane with her life - 3 suitcases and a plastic garbage bag.
we kept her company for a while, gave her some food and coffee but had to leave this woman.
this beautiful, kind, softly spoken, heart broken women.
someone's mother.