Chapter 1
Prologue
The Morning the world shattered into millions of pieces….
It was the morning her Mum slipped into the Dreaming, the morning her world fell apart and would be changed forever. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t anything the movies make death out to be.
It was quiet — the kind of quiet that feels like the world is holding its breath.
She had snuggled up beside her Mum, in the bed, in the palliative room. Her arms around her Mum, tightly, but not too tight, ensuring her Mum felt the loved, safety and comfort that she had always given her … one last time. The room the room lit only by the soft glow of the overhead light on the wall. The air was warm, heavy with smell of the eucalyptus leaves that lay at the top and bottom of the bed. Placed there by two Aboriginal Sistas earlier the previous day, for preparation of this happening. She lay beside her Mum, hoping her love, voice and hugs would make this transition just a little easier and less scary.
Her Mum’s breaths were shallow now. Each one a small battle. Each one a reminder that the body was letting go.
She looked lovingly at her Mum – the woman who has always been her world, eyes barely open. Holding her Right hand and heartbreakingly knowing the time was coming … the time she had dreaded since she was a little girl and was told all Mum’s eventually go to the dreaming. She was trying really had to be brave … Hoping her Mum could hold on long enough for her other bubba girl to make it to hold her one last time … to have the final gift of lying beside their Mum, with her in her arms.. a giftthat she had been given with their Mum.
She leaned closer, brushing her Mum’s cheek back the way she’d done since she was a child.
“I’m here, Mum.” “I am not going anywhere, I promise”. Her Mum smiled — faint, tired, but still hers.
“You’ve been strong,” she murmured to her Mum, as she kissed her cheek and hand. “Stronger than you should’ve had to be.”
She held her Mum’s hand still, gently, like she was afraid she’d break something sacred if she squeezed too hard.
A breeze moved through the room then — impossible, because the windows were closed. It carried the scent of wattle, of warm earth, of something older than Country itself. The air shimmered, just slightly, like the veil between worlds had thinned.
Her Mum’s eyes lifted to hers, unfocused but peaceful.
Her Mum smiled again, that soft, knowing smile.
The air grew warmer. Thicker. Alive.
She felt it — a presence settling around them, gentle and familiar, like hands resting on her shoulders. Like breath against her cheek. Like love.
Her Mum exhaled one last time, a long, slow breath that felt more like a release than an ending.
In that moment, she knew her world would never be the same … That life as she knew was forever shattered and she was truly alone in this world ..
It was then that she knew for sure that ones heart could literally break, and one could feel it.
She lay with her Mum’s body in her arms, holding her Mum’s hand, feeling the warmth fade slowly, like the sun slipping behind the horizon.
The sound of heartbreak that came from the deep depths of her was heartbreaking for all to witness and to hear. The loss of her Mum was heartbreaking for all.
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to her Mum’s hand, tears streaming down her face as she looked into her Mum’s lifeless body, seeing the serene smile. It is then that she heard from outside, the first magpie of the morning beginning to sing — too early, too soft, too strange.
The world was shifting. She could feel it.
And when she finally stood, hours later, stepping into the hospital bathroom, allowing her Sister to spend time with their Mum, to say goodbye, she looked at herself in the mirror and she knew, just knew that she was never going to be the same again.
She did not know how she was going to survive this heartbreak … if she could at all.
CHAPTER ONE
The Morning After the Dreaming
The kettle clicked off before she realised she’d even turned it on. That was the soft part of the morning — the quiet, the stillness, the way grief made everything feel muffled, like the world was wrapped in cotton. Yagah’s paws padded across the kitchen tiles, tail thumping once against her leg, grounding her in the everyday chaos she’d been trying to outrun.
Outside, the small town was already awake. Utes rumbling down the street, magpies arguing on the powerlines, someone’s kid screaming because they didn’t want to put on shoes. Life moved on, even when hers had stopped.
She leaned against the counter, staring at the chipped mug her mum used every morning. The one with the faded kookaburra on it. She lifted it, thumb tracing the crack along the rim, and that’s when the air shifted — just slightly — like someone had opened a door she couldn’t see.
Cold and darkness slipped in quietly, uninvited and very unwanted.
A warm breeze brushed her cheek, though the windows were closed. The scent of eucalyptus and her mum’s perfume — that soft floral one she always said made her feel “like a fancy aunty” — drifted through the room. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, she wasn’t alone.
Her mum didn’t appear, not fully. Just a sense, a presence, a familiar weight settling into the space beside her. A whisper that wasn’t a whisper. A feeling that wasn’t a feeling. The Dreaming touching the waking world.
Then chaos returned — Yagah barking at nothing, the kettle boiling again even though it was empty, her phone vibrating with three messages she didn’t want to read. Her sister asking if she was okay. A friend checking in. A bill reminder. Life demanding she participate.
She wasn’t ready.
She took a breath.
The world didn’t feel lighter. The world felt emptier and colder …. Less bright
