James Hill and Judy Penman reflect on loss of sons ahead of 2023 Corryong Spirit

Like the 70s tunes on his favourites playlist that Sam would delete, just to stir up his dad.

Although these days, James mostly listens to music without words.

The 57-year-old Cudgewa dairy farmer has sat in the tractor listening to more Hooked on Classics than anything else since Sam died.

You see, words are sometimes more than he can bear.

He recalls listening to the Kenny Chesney song, Who You'd Be Today, five times in a row - he only stopped crying on the fifth replay.

"Sunny days seem to hurt the most, I wear the pain like a heavy coat ..."

James is up the paddock shifting an electric fence; he tells me he's got a few repairs to do at the dairy and he's building a crate for his truck.

He's trying like hell to make this day, Tuesday, August 8, just another ordinary day.

He's trying like hell not to think about the fact it's been three years since their kind and funny eldest son took his life at just 21, in the wake of the catastrophic Upper Murray bushfires.

"I'm trying to talk myself into it," James says.

"If I just keep telling myself this is just another day - and not Sam's anniversary - then you tick along ... but deep down you know."

And so he works, "keeping busy" is his armour to keep the pain at bay.

"I've always prided myself on being a problem solver but this is one I'm having trouble with," he admits.

At 4.10pm James heads to the spot on the way to Bluff Falls "where we found him".

He texts through a photo of a gorgeous pebble-filled stream; its beauty at odds with the anguish of the life lost there.

"I've vowed and declared I'll go every year and sit on the bridge exactly where he was and remember him," James says.

"I just go and sit there for 10 to 15 minutes and talk to a star and a wedge-tailed eagle."

Eagles have become sacred symbols for the family since Sam's loss, appearing in dreams, at the cemetery on the first Christmas Eve without him, and circling above them at the farm around Sam's birthday.

James never thought he'd be the type to have a lot of tattoos.

He now has two.

"I'm becoming a real rebel," James laughs wryly.

The first tattoo, which he designed, features a fish hook merging into a deer head and mountains with Sam's name inscribed above.

James, his wife Elise, their youngest son Jake and a few of Sam's mates all have the same tattoo.

On Sam's birthday (April 16) last year, James got another tattoo with a soaring eagle and the words "I'm here".

He intends to get a new tattoo every year on his son's birthday - "as long as I can think of a good one"!

"By the time I'm 80 I'll be covered in ink," he declares.

James says his grief doesn't diminish with the passing of time but concedes he's become better "at covering it up".

"Unless you're directly affected, people move on," he says, by way of explanation.

He struggles a bit with that part.

"A friend once said to Elise, 'I know how you feel'," James recalls.

"I said, 'No you don't and I hope you never do!'"

James and Elise are among the co-founders and organisers of the Corryong Spirit event this Friday, August 11, featuring keynote presenters Melinda Schneider and James Gallacher.

Now in its second year, the free community gathering invites Upper Murray residents to come together in hope and healing, and to shine a light into the darkness of grief.

It was born from a need to acknowledge those whose lives were lost after the 2019/2020 bushfires and to recognise the courage of all those who have endured hardship.

For James, the thing that makes the tough times a "bit easier" is talking about Sam and picturing him in better times rather than that bleakest of days.

He and Elise have bought a caravan - "it was the bargain of my life " - are are looking forward to a trip to Tasmania in February.

Unlike Elise, James says he doesn't take much comfort in the plethora of pop-up poems, sayings and words online that try to articulate the pain of grief.

"We don't don't need a poem to tell us how great the person was that we lost - we already knew it!"

Judy Penman admits she's never been a person to cry in public while her husband Chris always wears sunglasses to funerals.

"It's the way I've always been," she says, with quiet dignity.

It's one of the reasons the Corryong local has "carried my grief pretty tightly" since they lost their 18-year-old son James to suicide, on February 23, 2020.

Judy's journey has been a private one and yet she now feels ready to give back to the community "who has given so much to us".

She was among the organisers and co-founders of last year's inaugural Corryong Spirit event to provide a public space for the community to come together after the catastrophic Black Summer bushfires and deaths of five young men in the space of 15 months.

This week Judy stepped out of her comfort zone to start what will be a 10-day Upper Murray community leadership program.

She's hoping the course will help her become a better public speaker and more effective member of local organisations, including helping communities to manage change.

Ironically, Judy doesn't see herself as a leader and yet as the infection control nurse for Corryong Health, she's well-versed in the role given the challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic.

The 64-year-old now volunteers at the local primary school to support students with their reading and writing, finding joy in reprising her skills as a qualified teacher.

As an "empty nester" (their daughter Sarah,27, works for Cessnock City Council), Judy wants to use her free time for the greater good.

Closer to home, she's come to a point where she can move things out of James's room - to sort out his belongings and find space for the keepsakes they will cherish forever.

Like the two framed football jumpers that need to find a special spot on the wall.

And the stock saddle so many people signed and wrote heart-felt messages on at James's funeral - a "great idea" by his former cricket coach.

Judy still stumbles across messages she hasn't read from that day.

"I haven't thrown anything out," she admits.

"There are still levels in the wardrobe to go ... it's hard. But we are getting the house painted and we are swapping things back so that Sarah can have her original room when she comes home."

As for her "beautiful, sporty, outdoorsy, joking" James, Judy likes to remember the boy who loved to try new things - including taking up the sport of camp-drafting in his late teens.

He started out on a horse that was given to the family before saving up for a special saddle and his own beloved horse, called Tabasco.

Judy says she loved watching his progress as a relative learner in the camp-drafting world and recalls her delight at the day he finally cut out a calf, successfully guided it around the course and recorded a time.

"It was wonderful," she says.

Tabasco has since gone to a new home in Corryong with a fellow nurse who loves riding him, Judy reveals.

"I've been to visit and patted him," she says.

Occasionally Chris and Judy will go and watch James's friends play footy for Kiewa-Sandy Creek.

But now there's no James to follow with the football ...

Judy admits her journey of grief has been a different one to her husband of 28 years.

She finds solace in music - occasionally she'll tinkle the ivories of the upright piano her late father insisted find its way into her possession.

"I'm rusty but I love it," she says.

In inviting residents to gather for the second Corryong Spirit event on Friday, Judy hopes the community will enjoy coming together again to support each other.

"I hope people will be happy to listen to the offering; for themselves and others who may be in the same boat - even those whose stories we do not know," she says.