1. December 2015 12:12
by Rene Pallesen
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7th Anniversary

1. December 2015 12:12 by Rene Pallesen | 0 Comments

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This month Kim and I had our anniversary.

I cant believe we have been married for 7 years...still love her to bits.

29. November 2015 22:11
by Admin
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Ballet - Sleeping Beauty

29. November 2015 22:11 by Admin | 0 Comments

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Saturday Kim and I went to the Sydney Opera house to watch the Sleeping Beauty performed by the Australian Ballet.

It was one of the better ballets we have seen. The story was great and the dancing (lots of it) was of a really high quality.

The even managed to weave in some of the Red riding hood story, Puss in boots, Cinderella and other stories.

It was beautiful to watch.

25. October 2015 09:10
by Rene Pallesen
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Velvet - 2015

25. October 2015 09:10 by Rene Pallesen | 0 Comments

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Last night Kim and I went to the show Velvet at the Sydney Opera House.

It was a combination of circus, burlesque and boogie nights (70's music) in one show.

The show had great music with Marcia Hines and Brendan Maclean and the performers were great. I think everyones favourite was the guy with the hula hoops.

1. October 2015 19:10
by Rene Pallesen
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Some more baby photos

1. October 2015 19:10 by Rene Pallesen | 0 Comments

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I don't know for sure which ones are Claus and which ones are Rene.

30. September 2015 18:09
by Rene Pallesen
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Claus as a tennis player

30. September 2015 18:09 by Rene Pallesen | 0 Comments

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This post is mostly about Claus when he was at his top as one of Denmarks top tennis players.

I have kept scans of all the newspaper clippings from when he was winning a lot of tournaments.

In the mid 90's he started to get pretty sick and although he still tried to play tennis it was never at the same level again. Eventually he more or less gave up. His illness took to great a hold of him. These are some of the 'darkest' photos I have of him while he was struggling with his schizophrenia and were taken shortly before I moved to Australia.

He lost contact with most of his friends and was very dependent on my mum and dad as well as other support programs in place.

I prefer to remember him as he was before he passed away.

This poem reminds me of him.

The morning after I killed myself, I woke up.

I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.
The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not with the boy down the street or the middle school principal. Not with the everyday jogger or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag. I fell in love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with sweat. I fell in love with my father down at the river as he placed my note into a bottle and sent it into the current. With my brother who once believed in unicorns but who now sat in his desk at school trying desperately to believe I still existed.

The morning after I killed myself, I walked the dog. I watched the way her tail twitched when a bird flew by or how her pace quickened at the sight of a cat. I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch but saw nothing but sky in my place. I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle and she wilted beneath their touch like she did once for mine.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors’ yard where I left my footprints in concrete as a two year old and examined how they were already fading. I picked a few daylilies and pulled a few weeds and watched the elderly woman through her window as she read the paper with the news of my death. I saw her husband spit tobacco into the kitchen sink and bring her her daily medication.

The morning after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up. Each orange tree opened like a hand and the kid down the street pointed out a single red cloud to his mother.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the morgue and tried to talk some sense into her. I told her about the avocados and the stepping stones, the river and her parents. I told her about the sunsets and the dog and the beach.

The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but couldn’t finish what I started.

—Meggie Royer

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