Hillcrest
With a heavy heart and a tight chest I write to you.
Engulfed by sadness and unable to catch a proper breath, I write to you.
I write to you not because I want to, rather, because I must. Writing is a form of therapy for me.
My music, which usually comforts me, just makes me sadder.
A simple task like choosing a playlist is now desperately troubling. In such emotionally heightened times, the lyrics of every track feel like they may have a double meaning.
Songs that we listen to in the aftermath of tragedy, or those played in memoriam over coming days and weeks, will never be heard again by us in the same way. The tunes will bring a level of sorrow and memory that will be etched in our hearts for a lifetime.
This is part of remembering and grieving and it is important.
The death of six school-aged children from a tight-knit community like Devonport is unfathomable and utterly devastating for the families, schools and the wider North-West.
I have had only a glimpse into parental grief through the sudden and unexpected passing of our four-year-old nephew, Henry.
It was tragic and there were no words, just as there are none now for the pain of parents and carers of kids affected at Hillcrest.
As a former teacher and principal, I can say that the shockwaves of grief are rippling around Tasmania's education community, around Australia and internationally.
Every teacher, principal and support staff person has been in a situation of organising or supervising events designed to give students an opportunity to grow in confidence, expand networks, celebrate their schooling and develop broader life skills.
The collective sadness of a community and collective grief of a profession is indescribable, yet it is the heartache of those who have lost children that punctuates our grief and reminds us of those whose pain is beyond comprehension.
I write to you because my heart is aching as I stand beside the bereaved parents whose hearts are broken, yet still somehow beating.
Teaching is a calling, and the profession builds long and unbreakable adult friendships with students who we once nurtured. Hillcrest Primary School is around the corner from the Devonport City Strikers Soccer Club, where sporting success and failure still leaves many of us reflecting to the day.
This tragedy has links to soccer, football, basketball and cricket and churches and youth groups and schools and workplaces - it will be widely felt, and it will hurt forever.
The death of children is an unthinkable and, for some, an unspeakable tragedy.
The Devonport community will rally and lead their people in grief.
And they will require our support not just in the short term, but for months and years to come. The pain will not go away nor should our wish to acknowledge and care for them.
The school communities directly affected will need our support for decades to come.
The coordination by MyState Bank to provide a single place for donations is important. The offer by Hawthorn and Richmond to stage an AFL practice match provides hope within a very dark tunnel.
I write to you because this is hurt and suffering and torment that I have never encountered of this magnitude.
We will not forget the bereaved parents who will walk among us every day.
Your children matter. Your grief and healing matter. We will be reminded by the acute trauma and the grips of profound grief that the Hillcrest families now endure.
I am fortunate, my children finished grade six without a hitch and even though I am already known for spoiling them, they will get an even tighter hug from me and Mrs Wightman, this Christmas.
For anyone in need of assistance:
Kids Helpline - 1800 551 800
Mental Health Service Helpline - 1800 332 388
Beyond Blue - 1300 224 636
Lifeline - 13 11 14