THE MANY FACES OF CORALIE: a series in black and white

The happiest, craziest little thing. So many expressions, each funnier and sweeter than the last. Her brilliant fake grumpy face (look how her eyes are still smiling!) and that hearty, honest laugh; the gappy teeth, just like her big sister.

A few pictures I snapped on a gloomy morning, whilst we were still in our pjs. I think leaving my camera on the table is always a good idea - moments like this are so easy to capture when it's right there.

And boy, does she look like my Papa! xx

CHRISTMAS EVE: traditions

Last year, we started a new tradition of visiting the Botanical Gardens on Christmas Eve to lay flowers for my Dad. It was that day in 2014 that I last spoke to him, and it was the happiest conversation with laughter and silliness. The girls and I wandered around, laying bright orange tulips (picked by Josephine) in the spots they thought were the most beautiful. Although actually, my favourite one was next to a big puddle that they both jumped and splashed in for ten minutes...

"I think I should lay a flower here, Mama, because Grandpa would have loved to have done this too. He would think it's hilarious!!"

I absolutely agree, Josephine.

The gloomy rain cleared as we arrived, leaving an almost spring-like hour for us to stroll around, talk about Grandpa and get excited for all that Christmas would bring. It was my Dad's favourite time of year too, and I'm determined to continue that for him.

There was blossom on the trees and the girls chased squirrels and birds, played hide and seek and ate a whole load of cookies as we explored one of our favourite places. It was just lovely.

We love you, Papa xxx

TWO YEARS

It's hard to believe that another year has passed. Another year without you making me laugh, showing me the way, holding my hand and smiling back at me. I don't understand how it's been two years since we spoke. Since I saw you. Since our lives smashed into a million pieces. Since a new chapter began.
 
This year, I've come to release that the thing about grief - essentially, the biggest thing - is the absolute lack of control. I never know which way it will throw me. As time moves on, and another year without my Dad here comes to a close, the healing continues. The grief, for me, never fades - it burns as bright today as it did that first day - but I'm learning how to live with it. How to be warmed by that flame, draw strength from it and use it's passion and fire to drive my life along; achieve what I want to achieve, be who I want to be. The lessons grief has, and will, teach me are invaluable. They've come at the greatest cost, but they're here whether I like it or not, and it would be foolish not to listen to them and try to follow them. As the waves of heartbreak smash on me, I give in and let go and it helps me to heal and as the calmer waters of understanding take me to new places, I grow and relax and can breath again. Sometimes I feel like I am only just holding on by the tips of my fingers, so nearly out of control, and sometimes, from somewhere, I can use it and feel powerful and unstoppable; that I can take on the world, because I'm surviving the worst it has to throw at me.

With everyday comes a new challenge. A new question, a photograph, a forgotten memory, the first few bars of a song. And with every challenge I'm learning to let my heart guide me. I don't think I will ever know what will upset me or what will make me smile when it comes to my Dad, but I'm learning that I can't control it and realising that this year has simultaneously given me some control back. I no longer feel like I'm spiralling, even in those darkest moments. I'm riding those waves now, not fighting against them; I'm willing to let them take me wherever I need them to.

Everyday I feel you're with me, my Papa. In some way or another. And as the new year begins I'm more sure of it than ever. But I miss you, more every day and with every minute. I love you, forever and always.

MY YEAR: a new chapter, part three

As the year comes to a close, it's natural for us to reflect on what the last 12 months have brought, revealed and challenged us with. And I feel like it's been a big year for me.

I wrote last year, that 2014 was a year of quiet and healing. It was by far the most emotional of my life; a year of heart-breaking lows and heart-mending highs. It was a year of firsts without my Dad and firsts with Coralie; the strange reality of my Dad never meeting Coralie, and yet their lives overlapping in that way is something I think about often.

It turns out that 2015 has been a year of understanding and growth for me. I guess in many ways I didn't realise it at the time, as the months and seasons slipped by, but here we are and it's dawning on me how much I've changed this year. My opinion, feelings and thoughts on so many things feel more grounded, more true. I feel like I've discovered more of myself this year than I ever have before.

Over these last weeks, in the midst of exhaustion and illness, I've found myself awake in the middle of the night, joining the dots. And while it's been a journey, and one that on many levels I was thrown unwittingly, kicking and screaming into, the last two years have taught me so much about myself and the person I want to be.

* I think motherhood is a journey that none of us know the path of. It winds and flows in every direction, sometimes all at once, and the best we can do is learn and understand and stay true to ourselves and our instincts and beliefs. Birthing Coralie and those first six months of sleepless nights and attempting to forge some kind of routine and normality in the throws of grief, was hard. Indescribable, really. But as Coralie has grown, and as all four of us have, we've hit a stride in these last few months that I feel in sync with. There have been challenges, as there always are in parenthood, but Ben and I have come out stronger and more united than ever. And our girls continue to blossom and thrive. They are truly my greatest achievement and, oh! My life, my existence, it's all for them, for Ben, for our little family. I want to be present, to listen and understand, even when I find it hard to. I want to smile and laugh and continue to forgive and forget the little things that can sometimes seem like the biggest things. Because they're not. I want to take more moments to myself to breathe and stay calm and centred; to think. And I want to see those moments as a blessing and necessity not a failure.

* I want to relax in this new found freedom that is body-confidence. It's not so much getting my old body back, because that really hasn't happened, but it's understanding this new body of mine. This amazing body that created and grew and birthed and nourished my babies. I have a new found respect for it, and am in a very happy place where I no longer feel like I'm fighting it. I'm happy, and despite being heavier and softer, I love it more. I aim to listen to it, to strengthen it (but gently with pilates I think) and I will embrace this feeling and share it with my girls. To love oneself. To stand in front of the mirror and feel proud. And I will enjoy every mouthful of steak or creamy chicken Ben cooks and every bite of that chocolate bar he brings me home as a treat.

* I aim to continue simplifying. A term thrown at everything now, I know, but one I've really identified with this year. In all aspects of life, I hope to be less cluttered. To hold onto only the things I truly love. I've started well in 2015 and feel so much clearer because of it.

* The mix of motherhood and grieving has pushed my love of style and fashion away, as far as it ever has been, but over the last six months, I've felt it return and it's different now. It's about those few choice pieces - not necessarily expensive (the charity shop is still my number one) but thoughtful - about finding the balance between practicality and desirability; for my wardrobe and our home. Clothing-wise, I've got rid of those fall-back items I just chuck on because they're easy, yet which I never feel good in. I deserve more than that; whether I'm at the park, at home or out for lunch. I aim to buy less, but make it count.

* I want to use my time better, to use it purposefully and use it well. To achieve the little things and the big things. The things I need to and the things I want to. I have a few projects I hope to develop and work on next year, and I will need to utilise the afternoon naptimes, the nursery times and the early evenings as best I can, but I know it will be worth it. I'm excited to see what that time will bring.

For me, 2016 is about thoughtfulness. All these things come back to that. It's about taking a moment to decide what I want; what I want to buy, say, do, achieve. I want to take control and make the most of this year. Breath in every second of my babies, of this moment in our lives, seize every opportunity and make my place in this world count.

treasures from a special place

A few days ago, as we rushed home from somewhere, Josephine asked me if she could pick something up that was hiding in the leaves in the gutter next to the pavement. When I asked her what she'd found, she held out a single, pristine bright pink petal and said:

"Look Mama, at this beautiful treasure. I think Grandpa dropped this for me from his special place, for me to find. And whenever we look at it we can think about him and it will make us smile and be happy."

The beautiful petal is now sitting in Josephine's flower press, ready to be tucked away in one of our scrap books alongside Josephine's story. I've never told her any stories like that before regarding my Dad, which only makes it more magical and more beautiful; that she thought of it by herself, in that fleeting moment.

That my Dad is always in her thoughts, always with her, is such a comfort to me. That he lives on within us all, even if he's not here himself. That he's never forgotten and remains a huge part of our lives and will do forever.

As happy tears filled my eyes, I cuddled my darling girl for giving that ordinary day a little bit of magic, for being so kind-hearted and seeing the wonder in the smallest thing; the beauty of that pink petal, buried in a pile of brown crunchy leaves. For talking about my Dad, and remembering him in her own such special ways.

FATHERS DAY

Celebrating my beautiful husband, always the best Daddy in the world to our girls, and my own beautiful Daddy, who I wish with all my heart was here with us today.

Sunshine, BBQ and happy, fun times. So much love xxx 
 

WISHES

Josephine collected little stones to throw into the lake at Dryham Park last week, and told me she was making wishes as they hit the water. Wishes for holidays and cake and sunshine; and a wish that she could see her Grandpa.

I love that he is in her thoughts always, and at the same time my heart breaks for her and all that she should have done with him but never got the chance, and for how much she misses him.

My sweet girl. Your Grandpa would be so proud of you and I have no doubt that, wherever he is now, he wishes he could see you too.

And then she wished for an apple. I love her!

^^^

To my girls, today was a sad day; a year since your Grandpa's funeral. That was a strange day; a day for tears but also a day to laugh and talk to your Grandpa's friends and colleagues, some who knew Grandpa when he was a little boy, all about what a wonderful man he was.

I wanted to stand up and say something that day. To tell all those people what an awesome Daddy he was, how brilliant a Grandpa he was, and how he filled our lives with so much happiness and fun.

I'm sure by the time you are big enough to read this, you'll know the stories I recounted that day, some of my favourite stories, off by heart. I hope you do. But in case you ever want to read all about your Grandpa and I'm not there to tell you, this is for you.

It's so sad to read about all the things we didn't get to do, and about how much darker the world is without your Grandpa here, but remember to always think of the silly games and funny things Grandpa said, and would say, and you'll be laughing in no time. It's what he would have wanted, I know that for sure.

I love you my darlings.
Love Mama xxx

A few weeks before Christmas, I spoke to Dad on Skype, as we did so often while he was away, and I asked him if he'd had any more adventures on his new motorbike. Of course, he had, riding along beautiful stretches of Australian coastline. It was on one such adventure that he'd stopped at a biker cafe he'd passed. He pulled up on his Norton, complete with turn up jeans and his old leather jacket with vintage patches, took off his helmet to reveal his quiff, and was met with sniggers and shouting from the group of Hell's Angels that had taken over the bar. Remembering headlines of gang violence, armed robbery and curfews linked to this group, Dad stood, encircled, knowing that these Hell's Angels were the real deal, and wondering which way this was going to go.

So he did what he did best, and he cracked a joke.

And after a silent pause, the whole group burst into laughter and welcomed him with open arms into the bar.

That was Dad. No matter where he was in the world, no matter what the situation or the type of people, that was my Dad. He bought a smile to the face of everyone he met, burly Hell's Angels included, and was always, instantly loved by them all. It was this charm that once allowed us to leave a restaurant in Prague without paying, because Dad had forgotten his wallet. Dad's smile and way with words had the restaurant manager won over in minutes and he was happy for us to go back the next day. That was more than ten years ago, and every restaurant visit since resulted in Dad pretending to forget his wallet. And we always laughed; every time.

Over the last few weeks, my brother, sister and I have received such lovely emails from friends and colleagues of Dad's all over the world, and every single one of them talks about the laughter he bought to their lives; the light he bought to the world.

We all have so much to learn from the life Dad led. He was an inspiration; to me and to so many others. He seized every opportunity to experience new adventures and learn something different. He worked hard and lived every day to the full. And he did it all with a smile. Like so many of you, it's that smile I will always remember. It brightened every day I got to see it; it has brightened the darkest moments of the last month, and I know that it will brighten the tough times that are yet to come. Every day, we should all strive to bring the same happiness to someone, that my Dad did; to follow in his footsteps and make the world a better place in his honour.

Dad's job meant that we could go for long periods of time without seeing him. In the last few years alone he'd spent many months working in Australia and Germany, but our time together was always the more special because of that. In just a few hours together, we'd have more fun and more laughs than other people would have in weeks. No-one has a Dad like us. And I am so proud to be able to call him my Daddy. Prouder today, than ever.

And no-one has a Grandpa like Tyler, Coby and Josephine. Before Dad started work in Australia last summer Josephine and I spent so many lovely days hanging out with Dad, in the garden, in the sunshine. I will never forget the fun those two had, the laughter and the adoration. Skyping with Dad and Josephine involved raspberry blowing sessions that lasted 15 minutes and whole conversations with him wearing his bike helmet and goggles because Josephine had asked him to put on his 'motorbike hat', which he loved and happily agreed to. In the last few months Dad and I had spoken so much about plans for this year. We should have had so many more days together. More time for Josephine to have adventures with her Grandpa, more time for him to meet our new Baby. But they will always know him. They will know all our favourite stories about him by heart, they will know his beautiful face, and I know he will be watching over them, forever.

For as long as I can remember, I've been told that my Dad was a legend. Whenever we visited film sets, Dad's colleagues would be jostling to tell us how awesome he was, which we all knew, of course. Charlie said last week how people just flocked to Dad; wanting to be in his presence, to share a piece of his happiness. So many of Dad's idols died too young; James Dean, Eddie Cochran and Buddy Holly. They had so much more to give; they left people wanting more. Just like Dad. There should have been so many more years of fun to come; he had so much more joy to spread. But he joins the best of them, nestled with the coolest of the cool; our Dad, a true legend.

Our beautiful Daddy was taken from us far too soon, but no-one could have picked a more magical place in the world to go. Classic Dad. The last few years have been amazing for him. Dora has said how he died on such a high. Working with amazing people on huge film projects, travelling the world, moving into a beautiful new home and meeting his love, Dee.

My last conversation with Dad was on Christmas Eve, two days before he died. As soon as his face popped up onto the screen, I knew how happy he was to have Dee with him. You could see it in his eyes. He looked relaxed and blissful. They opened our Christmas present and he entertained Josephine by wearing a Christmas hat and fashioning a Father Christmas beard from some tissue paper. We all shared so many laughs. Dad talked about the Christmas Day BBQ on the beach they had planned and got Ben's advice on cooking Christmas pudding on it. He was so happy. So happy to have his love beside him, and we are so grateful that he did. So grateful to Dee for making his last days some of the best he ever had; that she loved him with all her heart and that she filled his heart with so much happiness; that she was there to hold his hand as he went. You will always be part of our family Dee, as Dad intended, and we all love you, as he did, so much.

My Papa, my Daddio. It's hard to find the words to tell you how much you meant to us, how much you will always mean to us. You are my hero and I promise to make you proud every single day. To live life to the fullest and to be happy. There should be no goodbyes today. I know you'll always be with me, with us all, guiding us and protecting us. And that someday we'll all be laughing together again. Until that day, I love you, and I will miss you, forever and always.

CHRISTMAS EVE: new traditions

On Christmas Eve, as Ben cooked up a storm in the kitchen in preparation for the next few days, I took the girls on a very special outing to mark the year anniversary of the last time we spoke to my Dad.

On the way to the Botanical Gardens, we stopped at a little flower shop to pick up two very special bouquets. The first, a beautiful package wrapped in brown paper, was a small posey of tiny yellow daffodils. I wanted to lay some flowers at the Gardens to mark this day, and these yellow blooms were perfect. I also wanted to buy a bunch to sit on our mantelpiece over Christmas, and selected the most wonderful, happy bouquet that i'll show you more of soon.

The girls and I wandered round the gardens, soaking up the beautiful winter sun and talking about Grandpa and that last conversation; all the giggles and fun. And as we walked, Josephine laid a stem on the most beautiful spots she could find; moss-covered steps, secluded overgrown nooks and twisted tree trunks. It was lovely and sweet and a wonderful thing to do with my girls. Something we will do every Christmas Eve; a new tradition for my Papa.

 

A NEW CHAPTER: part two

Shoots of new life bursting through the soil at the Botanical Gardens on Christmas Eve, basking in the warm winter sun.

Happy New Year! Hello 2015, hello new-look blog and hello to a new chapter.

Back at the beginning of 2014, just weeks after my dad died, I wrote a piece about life without him being a new chapter of the same story, and as the new year begins I feel that yet another chapter has started. 2014 was a year of firsts; birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries and special occasions without Dad here. Learning how to celebrate whilst living with such sadness has been so strange, but I think, and I've been told by other people who have dealt with death, that facing those occasions will be a bit easier the second time round.

2014 was also a year to begin healing, to learn how to cope, to learn what life is like without my Dad here. Throughout the year I experienced bursts of energy, times when I wanted to grab life by the horns as my Dad always did. I launched Nell Mallia Photography, which was been met with quite a few bookings and such wonderful feedback. But then winter set in and I felt the need to be still and reflect once again. With this new year and new chapter, comes a new sense of passion and ambition, and I'm really excited to build on what I've started and push it to the next level.

I'm also really excited to be back here, to add to our journal more regularly. Starting with my new header, I also plan to fill in the gaps from last year; complete the 52 Project, get up to date with Coralie's Monthly Portraits and our Insta-month round ups, finally write Coralie's birth story. But I plan to slot those in when I have the time and post them to the right months; but I'll let you know when I do and where they are, in case you'd like to check them out :)

I've never really been one for resolutions and seeing the new year as a fresh start, but I am pretty happy to see the end of 2014 and the beginning of 2015. Of course, 2014 bought us the most wonderful gift in Coralie, but I'm more than ready for a new chapter.

I plan to simplify, to cut down on the amount I'm on my phone, to live in the moment and, most importantly, seek new adventures with this little family of mine. To tell our family and friends how much they mean to us and to not waste any more time on the negative people who have caused so much hurt. This is a year of positivity and growth.

I hope you've got great plans for 2015, and I hope this year brings only happiness for you all xxx

thankful

One week today it will be Christmas Eve. And on that day it will be exactly a year since the last time I ever spoke to my Dad, the last time I saw his face on Skype; the last laughs we shared and our last goodbyes.

As the anniversary of his death gets closer, the grief and longing to see him again is palpable. I have found over the last year that it's the days before a big anniversary or special occasion that I find the hardest.

I find it harder than usual to not relive certain moments over and over again in my head. I fall asleep thinking about them and during the (albeit rare) moments of quiet during the day, my mind quickly wanders to those hardest of days. To the moment I heard what had happened, to the deep, dark silence that filled my car as my brother, sister and I travelled to Cornwall that same day to be with my Grandparents and the rest of my family; to his funeral – standing, looking at his coffin, speaking the words of my eulogy for him.

Come the day itself, I find strength I didn't think I could muster. I can smile as I think of my Dad's beautiful face and jokes he would crack. I find the dread I had about how I would feel, melt away. I've realised that the complete sadness, the heartbreak, the amount I miss my Dad, isn't greater on those 'significant' days. It's that way every day; some days are easier than others, of course, but it's there always. I replay those moments all the time. It's hard not to. I think about my Dad all day, every day. Happy thoughts, sad thoughts; smiles and tears.

In the summer, when we were driving back to Cornwall for our summer holidays, I spoke to Ben about the last time I had driven those roads. And Ben told me about how, when I told him that Dad had died, he wondered what the next year would hold; how I'd cope, whether I'd even find the energy to get out of bed and carry on. That the strength I, and my family, had shown was incredible, inspiring. That my Dad would be so proud of us all. I think of Ben's words often too, they help me hold my head high when I want to look down and cry.

I'm looking forward to the New Year like I never have before. I'm ready for 2014 to be over. To begin a new chapter. It's been the hardest year of my life. Learning to live without my Dad here beside me, seeing my best friend be heartbroken, moving away and starting a new chapter in her life, how hard things are for my brother right now and knowing of the sadness my sweet friend has to endure after loosing her precious babies; my young sister in law cope with the diagnosis of cancer and watching Ben's beloved Grandad pass away leaving his wife of 60 years. The list seems endless. But it has also been so wonderful. Coralie's arrival has bought such joy, and the happiness and laughter Josephine has bought us is something I will forever be thankful for. Planning my sister's wedding and seeing how happy she is, the birth of my Godson and watching my best friend create a beautiful home for her boys and find strength that is so inspiring, my sister in law getting the all clear and showing such bravery.

At this time of year it's important to reflect on all we have to be thankful for, and despite the heartbreak I've suffered over the last 12 months, I know I have many beautiful things to be grateful for. And I plan to focus on those. I am thankful for my girls and for Ben, who has been so strong when he too has been so sad. For my family and such good friends. For a safe home, good health and yummy food on the table. Knowing that my Dad was so happy when he left this Earth, and being free of any anger that so many have to suffer when someone they love so much dies so suddenly.

This week has bought such sadness around the world. The tragedy is Sydney, which unfolded just round the corner from where my Dad was living this time last year, and the truly horrific and soul-wrenching events in Pakistan yesterday. When the world faces such hatred and heartbreak, we must focus on what is good.

Finally, I am thankful for you. The support I have received from my little online community, via my blog and IG, has been incredible. And whilst I've had some messages questioning sharing my grief and my feelings through this medium, I remain grateful for the opportunity to do so. To have some of you reach out with your own experiences, to have you all offer such kindness and happy thoughts.

With the New Year comes new plans for this space. I've barely held on to it this year, but that's ok. It has been a year to begin healing, to be quiet and to reflect. But I feel that now is time to start writing more. To take more pictures, and I'm looking forward to getting back to blogging more regularly after Christmas.

I am, as ever, inspired by my Dad and will keep moving forward, keep seizing the day and new opportunities.

Much love to you all, and thank you xxx

^^^

My darling girls,

We talk every day about your Grandpa, and the fun we all had when he was here with us; the things he loved doing and the person he was. But I want you to know about some of those moments after he died too. Moments you weren't there to see or will have been too small to remember. Because they're part of his legacy too, and they remind us of how he lives on in us all and in our memories. And they're so important to me.

I want to tell you about one beautiful July afternoon when we spread some of your Grandpa's ashes. It sounds a little morbid, I know. And in all honesty, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect myself as we prepared to do it that sunny day.

But, oh little ones, I wanteyou know that it was beautiful. A truly amazing, heartbreaking, heartmending, beautiful moment that I will never forget. And I'm so glad you were both there. Even though you were so small, and you watched from afar with Uncle Andy, and you won't remember it yourselves.

The pier in St Ives was such a lovely spot to stand, with Daddy and Auntie Dora, Uncle Charlie, Nanny and Grandma and Grandpa Ratty. The sun was so warm, the sky was so blue and the sea was luminous. My Papa would have loved it.

Grandpa's ashes were creamy white and like the crushed shingle you'd find on a beach. As I threw my handful into out over the edge of the pier, into the air and into the sea, and into the world and universe, I told him that we loved him.

And as I threw them they hovered in the air, caught on a gust of wind, and they shone and shimmered in the sunlight before floating up and down and all around.

I'm sure your Grandpa was with me in that moment, I know he was. He was stood beside us, giving us the strength to see the beauty in something so sad and unfair. 

My Daddy. He bought light and beauty to this world when he was alive, and he continues to do so now too.

He will forever and always shine his light on us all, my darlings. Never forget that.

I love you,
Mama xxx

INSTA-JUNE

1. At Nana's house with Bubbles, the rabbit.
2. Summertime feels like it's here, at last.
3. Feeding this tiny creature, while contemplating taking a nap myself.
4. Trying to figure out what to wear as a breastfeeding Mama!
5. Vintage cotton dresses, balmy summer days and sleeping babies. A match made in Mama heaven.
6. Two of my favourite photos in the world. Me and my Papa. Wishing with all my heart he was here today, to celebrate Father's Day with. You're the best Daddy, so cool and awesome and kind and funny. Missing you more than I can say, more each day. It's just too sad you're not here. I love you so much xxxx
7. To our boy, happy Father's Day! We all love you so much, you are our hero and we're thankful for you everyday x
8. Both smiling #kinda
9. These kiddos :) Coralie and Josephine are so lucky to have those boys in their lives, such wonderful friends from almost the day they were born.
10. How can this picture not make you smile?!

INSTA-MAY

1. Eating crisps while waiting for the BBQ...a lovely way to spend time waiting for a certain little baby to show up :)
2. So much love, always
3. Our girl is here. Coralie Joe Mallia swam into the world at home late on Wednesday night, and has filled our hearts with happiness and love.
4. Monday morning snuggles :)
5. Coralie's first bath
6. Went on a little afternoon stroll with Josephine in the sunshine, and stopped for a yummy treat :)
7. Our girls, snuggled in bed with us this morning
8. While Josephine runs and jumps and plays, Coralie snoozes and snoozes in the warm breeze
9. First day of solo parenting after our babymoon, and while Coralie sleeps Josephine and I play
10. Coralie wearing the babygro my Dad and his girlfriend bought Josephine when she was born. I love these little connections to him, but at the same time they make me so sad and I've cried a lot today. So lucky to have my girls to share stories of him with, and to make me smile even at the saddest of times.