A Book About Death Australia

A Book About Death EXHIBITION

Tweed River Art Gallery, New South Wales, Australia.

18 October - 24 November, 2013

This international exhibition originally conceived by Paris artist Matthew Rose was first exhibited in the Emily Harvey Gallery, New York in September 2009.

The exhibition became a world wide phenomena, involving work from over 500 artists and inspiring artists to curate off shoot exhibitions throughout North America, South America, Europe and Britain.

Now 300 artists from more than 20 countries have submitted new artworks for the Australian exhibition at Tweed River Art Gallery in October 2013.

The gallery has magnificent views over the Tweed River and surrounding mountain ranges.
Multiple stacks of artists' postcards will be on the window alcove seats for gallery visitors to take home and create their own 'unbound' book about death.

Back in February I came across the 'A Book About Death Exhibition. I was inspired and in awe of the artists sharing their gift, expressing what death means to them. Their personal, creative expression of grief. loss and heartache. I knew immediately that it was something I needed to be involved in. This had landed on my screen for a reason. This was my opportunity to express via visual art my grief. My book about death. 

I'm thrilled,excited and slightly daunted that I've just submitted my very first official exhibition piece for the 'A Book About Death Australia' Exhibition, to be held at the Tweed River Art Gallery opening the 18th of October. Below is my submission. 

What does death mean to you?

No one knows.......

No one really knows exactly how I truly feel. How much I still miss you and ache from your absence in our family. There are simply no amount of words, or the 'right' words I can express to say how I truly feel, not even to those closest to me. I think about you every day, I still cry tears out of happiness of how much I love you and how blessed I am to be your mummy. You have changed me incredibly. My beautiful, beautiful little girl you are a true gift.

Tears stream down my face. I don't know if I will publish this post, but it's here to help me when and If I decide to. I wonder if anyone will mention your name, if your sweet name will pass through people's lips, if you will be thought of on your birthday. I just miss you so much. I am so grateful to have your baby sisters and older brother to love, care and cherish each day. At the same time I feel your absence and wonder about what you would be like.

I was asked recently 'Are you OK now?' by a newly bereaved family. The questioned stumped me as I wanted to answer and say yes, I am OK, but I was honest. It gets easier.....sometimes and other times I think it gets harder. Milestones, anniversaries, birthday's, holidays, at each moment in time you wish they were there a part of your life. There are days when it can be like yesterday that I held Yasminah in my arms and all the pain and heartache resurfaces like an old wound aching in the winter.

But there is also hope, hope that a new child can bring. I briefly shared my story of our rainbow girls and how they have helped bring joy and happiness back into our lives. The tears ease as the days pass. You slowly venture back out into the world of doing the mundane tasks like cleaning, shopping and socialising with friends and family. Bravely holding in your sadness as you pass a pregnant woman or a family cooing over a newborn baby. It's hard when friends announce they are pregnant. You wish them nothing but happiness and pray that everything will be OK, but you wish you had your child in your arms, or if you have started the road of trying to conceive you wish to be pregnant too. Not to fill a gap, as nothing can or ever will replace the child you lost. But to once again have joy in your life, to nurture a baby, to watch them grow. Once you are pregnant you vow never to take for a granted a restless nights sleep, a dirty nappy or having the last feed splatted all over you, the lounge and the floor. You wish so much to be able to do those things.

When your pregnant friend goes into labour, it feels like a knife going deep into your chest. You hope and pray that everything is going to be OK and that they will get to take home their baby, that the labour will go smoothly. That their child will be born healthy. Then the baby is born and you know you will have to visit them and hold them in your arms. You brave the shops buying newborn clothes and hold back your tears when asked by a passer by when are you due? As you still have a 'baby' belly and look pregnant. You walk into the maternity ward, remembering the last time you were there. You then realise the last baby you held in your arms was your own and that soon another sacred moment will be gone. You feel like a thousand eyes are watching you hold that baby, too scared to say something wrong that might upset you. It feels strange to have a warm, moving, breathing baby in your arms, but comforting at the same time.

Friends status updates wishing that their child would 'go to sleep' have a different meaning. You would do anything to be kept awake by a restless baby, because at least they would be alive and you would be holding them safe in your arms. For weeks after losing Yasminah, because everyone kept referring to her as 'born sleeping' I used to freak out about my son dying in his sleep. I was a member of an online forum where mothers who had lost babies and children to SIDS shared their stories. Because my eldest was only 20 months old, I feared that God had already taken away one of my children, what was to stop him from taking away my son! I checked on him every night to make sure he was still breathing, still moving, still alive. It might sound crazy but it's true and completely normal to feel this way. If you have other children, I think you smother them with love and affection and maybe spoil them a little too much. But you do what you need to do, to get through each day. Life is short, our children we have lost have taught us this. Take each day as a gift, hold your loved ones, tell them how much you love them.

No one really knows what this is like, and even then each person's journey is so different and unique to that family and their special child.

No one knows.......and I wish no one ever had to know what this truly feels like.

Heartfelt Reminders

Frederick James Lewis passed away on the 14th June 1998 in Southport, Queensland. He was laid to rest in Nerang on the 17th June 1998. I was in year 12 studying for my HSC exams when my poppy passed away from a tough battle with cancer. This was my first taste of grief and the overwhelming scars it leaves on your heart. This is from one of the very first journals I ever owned. It is kept safe in a beautiful box with a bright green ribbon wrapped around it. It contains memories and thoughts of people I have lost in my life. It is simply called 'Peace'. It is remarkable to read back on this particular journal entry, as I experienced many of the same feelings after losing Yasminah.



Poppy I miss you everyday and wish you that you could of met my beautiful family. I know you will be taking good care of my angel Yasminah and hopefully letting her play in the mud too x x

Heartfelt Reminders

Grief overwhelmed me. I tried to hide the tears. We were asked to stand up and pray. I heard them close the coffin and saw them place the flower arrangements back onto the coffin.

We had come to say goodbye. Goodbye to a man whom we loved dearly and hold close to our hearts. He was my grandfather. My father's father. His life was short lived but happy. Even in his last days as we call them now, he was happy.

My sadness extends further than my words, it's hidden in my heart. Buried deep in that little corner of my soul. I mourned the passing of a great man and things lost forever. He was English by birth, a Catholic by nature. A true authoritarian, who stood his ground with a tough will, but a kind forgiving heart. He lived a hard life where the milk was straight from the cow and there was no sewerage system, he had seen two wars and fought in one. Transport was hard and he often walked miles to reach his destination. Equality between women and men was unheard of, as were the children.

A tear rolls down my cheek, the moment of realisation of love. You don't know what you've got until it's gone! No more care and share of family stories and those fun new year's eve parties. All that's left now are heartfelt reminders.

The eulogy was read by the eldest son. I was asked to read something as I am the eldest grandchild, but I was too overcome with grief. Then I noticed her, my grandmother standing there all alone among the crowd of familiar faces. Her eyes were fixed on my uncle as he read the eulogy. A smile ear to ear, a tear strolled down her cheek. Her eyes fixed on my uncle. Her love is one I've yet to experience, but know exactly what I'm looking for. Her sorrow is deeper than ours. She had lost not only her husband, provider, father of their children but her best friend, her soul mate.

The psalm was read;

The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads my beside quiet waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the path of righteousness For his names sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil. For thou art with me; Thy rod and staff, they comfort me. Thou dost prepare a table before me. In the presence of my enemies; Thou hast anointed my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and loving kindness will follow me. All the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the lord forever.
Twenty third Psalm

The hymns all carried 'on eagles wings'. The service was smooth and the saddest experience of my life.

I looked at her again. She was seeing more than you and I. Feeling more pain than any of us felt. I wondered if she was all cried out. My heart began to ache. I remembered. Her grief I wondered was it for now, or years ago. Her mother was taken in similar circumstances.

The solitary tear is etched in my mind. His birthday was two weeks after his death, I wonder, how did she cope. Her life will never be the same, as will mine. There is a void, a missing person. A hug that will never be.

After the service we go back to the house. I remember him, after loosing so much weight. Small and frail. Skin hanging bone to bone. My grandfather or my 'poppy' as he was know had a terminal disease. No cure, as yet has been found but it's opened my eye's to life.......and death. I wonder how you're feeling now, I wonder if you see our pain. Forever in our memories you will remain.

My nan opens his closet, with all his clothes in it. She walks out of the room. Tears are shed. I hold her in my arms and tell her it will be alright. But will it? I tell her I'm here for her. Her sorrow comes from deep down inside. All that's left now are heartfelt reminders.


I have never shared these words with anyone or shared this drawing of my poppy, not even with my nan, but today 13 years on, nan I want you to know we remember and love him dearly. This was also read at my poppy's service - to every one missing a loved one today, this is for you

To One In Sorrow
Let me come in where you are weeping friend
And let me take your hand
I, who have known a sorrow such as yours, can understand
Let me come in - I would be very still
Beside you in your grief
I would not bid you cease your weeping friend
Tears bring relief
Let me come in - I would only breathe a prayer
And hold your hand
For I have known a sorrow such as yours
And understand
~Grace Noll Crowell

What are your Heartfelt Reminders?

True Feelings

I sit here at the computer with thousands of thoughts running through my head. 'It' is almost here.....Yasminah's 2nd birthday. I have knots in my stomach and tears welling in my eyes as I try to type. I constantly debate if I should be so open about how I am really feeling.......but decide I can't keep this bottled up anymore and if I share a bit about my journey it may help another family who are going through the same heartache.

So today I am going to bear my whole heart for the world to see, to get a glimpse into life after the loss of my child. My second child, my first daughter Yasminah Ann Aziz. I think to myself that I shouldn't even know what this feels like, no one should. I should have my daughter here with me and my family. The question will always remain, why did this happen to us? I miss her so much. I would give anything to be able to hold her in my arms one more time, to kiss her sweet cheeks and cute button nose, brush her thick curly black locks of hair, to hold her little hand and caress her perfect feet. To whisper in her ear "I love you".

Yasminah was perfect to me, a special little girl to love and care for. She was born with a congenital limb difference. Yasminah had no right hand and 3 fingers on her left hand. Yes it would have been challenging at times but it doesn't mean we loved her any less or that we should be made to feel as though 'it was for the best'. Our daughter died, but she lived within me for almost 9 months. In those 9 months I watched as my belly grew, I felt the first flutters, which turned into strong kicks and waves of movement. We heard her heart beat during our ultrasounds and at each antenatal checkup. We watched in amazement as she grew and developed into the beautiful angel that was silently born late Thursday morning on the 26th March 2009 at 37 weeks and 4 days gestation only a few days from her planned delivery.

Yasminah suddenly passed away in utero on the 24th March and I was induced into labour the following day. I am often asked if I went through labour, and yes I did just like any other mum does to deliver their child. My husband held my hand and brought me ice cubes as I felt each contraction come and go. I was urged by my midwife to push when the time came and had my daughter placed on my chest skin to skin, then my husband cut her umbilical cord. She was still warm, and covered in vernix. We were scared but excited about finally meeting our baby for the first time. We never heard her cry, saw her open her eyes or got to change her nappy. We did get to spend several hours with her watching her get weighed and measured. We gave her a bath, before dressing her and wrapping her up to keep her warm just like any newborn baby. We didn't think it was a good idea at the time to bring our son who was only 20 months old to meet his sister, but wish I had thought differently about it and had at least one photo of my children together. My husband and I posed for a family photo and individual photos holding Yasminah. The time then came to say our final goodbyes. I wish at the time those close to us meet our little girl, but for one reason or another they didn't want to. We may have more photos today, more memories to share with others and with them. I understand they were scared, but their actions deeply hurt me and make it hard to talk about her with them today.

Moving on almost 2 years later and we have been blessed with our twin girls Aisha and Aaliyah. It was incredibly difficult being pregnant so soon after the loss of Yasminah but it was the best thing for me and I truly believe if I hadn't fallen pregnant so quickly I would of been too scared to try to have another child. Our 2nd and 3rd daughters had a rough start to life born 8+2 weeks premature, and endured 4 weeks through the roller coaster ride of the NICU. Thankfully they are here with us today and I couldn't imagine life without them. Having my daughters has helped me to heal and brought joy back into my life. I don't think I would be where I am today if I didn't have them and my son as part of my life.

My husband needs to be mentioned, he is an amazing man. Strong, loving, honest, wise and kind. A tower of strength and always able to make me laugh, even during my darkest moments. We have shared many moments together over the past 12 years and I love him just as much as today as I did 12 years ago. I thank him for his support and understanding, especially when so much of my time is spent away from him during the weeknights and over the weekends as I continue to develop Yasminah's Gift Of Hope. It isn't always easy, but we get through it.

I often find myself wondering what life would be like if Yasminah was still here with us. What would Yasminah look like now? What colour were her eyes, mixed shades of brown and green like her dad and big brother, deep brown like me or piercing blue like her sisters? Would she like reading books or prefer to play with dolls? Would she be using a prosthetic hand like we had talked about with the limb clinic, or be fiercely independent like her younger sisters?

Saturday is her 2nd birthday or angelversary. As a part of the charity set up in her honour we are releasing butterflies in memory of Yasminah and all the precious children and the families we support. It has been raining for the last few days and is scheduled to rain on the weekend too. We hope the weather holds off so we can enjoy the day, so her brother and sisters can play at the park. It has been hard to do and I wonder if people will remember her birthday or show up on the day. Does she matter to them? I remember her first birthday a few beautiful friends sent me cards and one friend in particular gave me a beautiful gold star pendant that we engraved her initial and dob on. I wear it everyday as a symbol of my shining star. It was so nice to know that she has touched so many peoples lives. There have been some really beautiful people show their love and support this year by donating things for the Butterfly Release like Denni from PurpleX Design and Print who has designed an amazing canvas signature board for people to sign on the day that we can take home to remember her birthday. Michelle from Goodie Bag Exchange another fabulous business on Facebook has organised for everyone attending the day to receive a little bag filled with goodies donated by other Facebook businesses. Fiona from Eaton Photography has offered to capture the day and will put together a special memorial keepsake of all the photos available for $10, with all proceeds going to Yasminah's Gift Of Hope. I am truly thankful for the countless people the loss of my daughter has brought into my life. There are so many people who have shown their love and cried with me. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

I hope that I am not an emotional mess on the day and that I can enjoy it remembering the love we have for our daughter and we can celebrate her life instead of mourning her loss.