Farewell

Jet joined our little family in June, 2015. 

"My youngest opened the door and this little black kitty immediately started loving her. Then me. He snuggled. He purred a quiet but steady little purr. And he drooled. There was no going back. "Jet" had found the family he wanted to go home with."

Jet's story is interwoven into the context of this blog in a manner that encompasses who he was to us in every way. His antics, his personality, his quirks, his neediness and intense curiosity.

When I made the move to my Little Oasis here just over a year ago, my daughter took over the care of our home and cat dependents. Two senior cats who came with a diverse and complex set of unique-to-them health challenges. 

To be loved by my daughter is to be loved without condition. She has taken these cats to the vet time, time and time again. Then some more. She did and has done everything in her power to make our cats comfortable. What medicine didn't heal, my daughter's love and devotion soothed.

Jet had a "mystery intestinal irritation" which resulted in litter box issues that preceded my move out and away from cat-responsibilities. We had investigated and tried everything. No stone was left unturned. In the end steroids bought Jet as much time as he could endure comfortably. 

Two weeks ago, the time to let him go had come.

Loss is not easy. Letting go is hard. Being held, comforted, in the presence of loved ones, consoling voices and tones in the end is the best one can hope for. 

As my daughter described Jet's last days and moments, I couldn't imagine a more loving farewell to our beloved Jet.

Jet was loved to the end and beyond. He was a good cat.

A Walk in the Cemetery

I walked to the Cemetery after work yesterday. It was a work-related task (deciphering between what our Town Cemetery map said and the reality). My goal was to find what family plot was available for a daughter to bury her mother and also her eventual resting spot.

It sounds a little gruesome. My co-workers suggested I go after dark (who can stay awake that long I wonder??) and they would come out and scare me. I chose daylight hours and looked forward to the nice, long walk on a perfect day.

I found the family I was looking for immediately. Our cemetery map contained errors and once I oriented myself to the map I had in hand, I replayed the conversation I had with the daughter and filled in a few of the blanks.

As the daughter spoke to me yesterday, I immediately thought of the conversations I had with Mom. Mom often spoke of her family members, she saved funeral cards, obituaries and had a small collection of the history books from nearby towns. If Mom didn't know an answer, she had her siblings and resources to seek her answers.

This particular daughter didn't have siblings to turn to, to help decipher some of the information we were seeking yesterday. I told her I would put on my detective hat and do my best to find what we needed to know.

Our family has some people who are true family historians. They have searched out family trees and we are the benefactors of their knowledge. I'm more of a story-person, so I collected memories, stories and history of life-as-they-knew-it. 

I collected Mom's family's stories right from the source. Mom, her three sisters and sister-in-law were happy to contribute to the book. When I collected Dad's family's stories, they were from five of seven of Dad's brothers (as well as their wives, children, friends and neighbors). All of Mom's family and two of Dad's brothers have died since their memories were put into writing, leaving us with the family lore they spoke of and the memories that were captured within the pages of history books and family memories.

I couldn't help but think of the stories and memories held within the cemetery. Everyone has a story. I hope they had a chance to leave their mark.

I had hoped Nature would pull out a small wonder for me to relay to the daughter I spoke to yesterday. The closest I got was spotting a gopher in the entrance of the cemetery. Never to be seen again. 

I have no mystical story to relay. Simply a respectful and peaceful reflection honoring those who were laid to rest. 

Sharing your story with your family and friends is a gift. Something to hold onto as time passes. 

Today

July has truly felt like a renewed beginning within this little world of mine.

Lines in the sand cement have been drawn.

A date has been set.

Day by day I see evidence of moving towards my plan of action.

One transition triggered the next course of events.

At least a year ago, I uttered the words aloud to those who would be affected,

 "When 'A' happens, 'B' will follow."

'A' happened.

'B' is in the works.

It has been like a domino has tipped over within my heart, mind and soul.

Life and death and everything in between has been brought to the forefront of my thoughts.

Friends, families, relationships and connections have been highlighted in neon yellow.

Focus on today, 

move towards the tomorrow you envision, 

step outside and take in whatever lies before you.

Breathe ...

 

I Can Only Imagine

I recently listened to a podcast where the well worn phrase "I can't imagine" (what someone else is going through) was brought into focus and dissected. Of course we can imagine. If we are saying the words, we ARE trying to imagine. As I listened to the discussion, I immediately thought of the words "I understand" (what another person is going through) and how in people's desire not to assume what another person is enduring, could easily utter the words "I can't imagine" with the best of intentions.

When I hear of news that touches me deeply, it is most likely because it has touched a familiar chord and brings up my personal memories of a time when I was touched by a similar fate. I have been feeling deeply and remembering a time when I faced a similar situation a lot lately.

The loss of a parent is unique to each and every one of us. The relationship we have or didn't have with them; the arsenal of memories, good, bad or indifferent; the longing for what we had or wished we had ... the list is endless. Though we cannot assume what the one who has suffered a recent loss is enduring, if we have a parent (and we all do), we can try to imagine what it may feel like if we were to walk in those shoes.

I could fill a notebook with my own personal thoughts, reflections, lessons learned and significant memories to my experience but I want to silence my words. I simply want to listen. To hear what another is feeling as they walk into uncharted territory.

My story isn't important. I have walked a parallel path. I can empathize. I can listen. But I can only imagine what another is going through.

When I say "my thoughts are with you", I mean it with every fiber of my being. 

I can only imagine...

Kodak Moments

 "The world lost a beautiful girl today" were the words my friend wrote to describe the inexplicable loss their family faced yesterday.

I became Facebook friends with my friend's son and his wife long ago and have been a silent cheerleader as the highlights of their lives were posted on their Facebook statuses. 

They regularly posted pictures of themselves together, their much adored chihuahua, their move into their new home and anticipated arrival of a new puppy they planned to adopt and bring home the day after she suffered a brain aneurysm.

Last night, I scrolled through this beautiful girl's Facebook page and read her words, felt her anticipation and marveled over the life this young soul was anticipating.

Frustrations over the isolation during this time of COVID, missing her family, friends and openly declaring her joy for having them in her life and anticipating getting beyond the isolation and getting back to a world where face to face visiting was the norm.

She was admitted into the hospital three weeks ago. Due to the COVID restrictions, only her husband and mom could visit her. 

I think of this beautiful girl and hope she could feel the love, support and prayers that were directed her way. I think of my friend's son and the support he must have needed as he navigated days nothing in the world could have prepared him for. I think of this girl's mom, her dad, family and friends. 

A young man lost his wife yesterday. Her parents lost their daughter. A vital member of the family will never come home again. Friends are lost and heartbroken.

If it were not for her regular posts documenting the joys in her life, her love for her husband, family and friends and her hopes and dreams for the future, those who are mourning her loss would have just a little bit less to hold onto.

Twelve hours before her life changed in a moment, she snapped a picture of the joy she was living in, in that very moment. "A Kodak moment", she wrote.

Enjoy those Kodak moments in time. The world is a better place when you savor the moment you are in and openly appreciate those who mean the world to you.

Mother's Day Isn't the Same Without You

It has been a very long time since I sat down and had a letter within me. I couldn't help but think of Mom this morning, on "her day". I thought I'd sit and write my thoughts out loud.

I let my thoughts wander and eventually they settled on "Mother's Day, 2017".

I think we suspected it would be our last Mother's Day together. It all started with this text message Mom asked me to send to my siblings:

Let me backtrack a little further. Mom's health had changed and it had been a worrisome winter. It spilled into spring. I went to Mom's often to quiet my inner angst. I needed to see her, spend time with her and I found it so hard to go home after my visits.

One time, before I left for Mom's, I knew I wanted to give her something tangible. Something to have and to hold when I wasn't there. Something to signify I was "with her" in thought and spirit, even when I wasn't physically there.

I had two angel pins. One had a little "diamond" chip on it; the other wasn't quite as delicate looking but it had a topaz stone in it. When I grabbed those angels as I ran out the door as I was headed out to Mom's, I didn't have an agenda. I didn't know what words would come. I just knew they would.

My intention was to write a note and leave the gift behind for her to discover after I left. That didn't happen. I was leaving Mom's and as always, she escorted me to my car and we said our good byes in her driveway. I had my angels in hand and still didn't know what words were going to go with them but I was right. The words came:

"Here is a little angel to wear on your shoulder, to symbolize my presence when I am not here. You are in my thoughts and this is for you to have, to remind you that you are not alone ..."

I had the two angels in my hand and asked her to choose one. The choice was obvious. Her birthday is in April (diamond birthstone), mine is in November (topaz birthstone). Besides, the angel with the "diamond" chip was much more delicate and was the one I would have chosen to give her.

Fast forward to our Mother's Day lunch some weeks later. When we saw each other, she leaned in close to me and pointed to the small angel on her shoulder. "I thought you would be wearing yours," she said quietly. "I did! I did! It's on my coat in the back seat of the car. I wanted to put it on something I wear every day..."

As we suspected, that was our last Mother's Day with Mom. She died September 6th, less than four months later.

Death is so final. You feel it so acutely for such a long time. We knew Mom was sick. We felt the end coming. We knew "lingering" would never have been her choice. Our heads knew it all. We had time to do and say and be who we most needed to be during those months. Yet when she stopped breathing, it felt like a sucker punch to the heart. It hurt.

There are so many details to tend to after losing a loved one. So many. In one of those many moments of planning, I had a moment of clarity. Mom's angel pin. It must be with her in the end. She was still in my thoughts. The significance of the "angel on her shoulder" was even keener than in the beginning. She was buried with her angel pin.

I wore my angel on my shoulder for a very long time afterwards. I would rub it like a worry stone when my heart hurt and it would ease the ache.

Mom once said that having so much to do in the aftermath of a death can be a blessing in disguise. Keeping busy is not a bad thing when one is dealing with the trauma of loss. She was right.

Tending to her house, her estate and all the loose ends one must do gave me an excuse to go out to Mom's with and without my sisters in the weeks and months to come. I never did start missing going to Mom's because I got to continue to go and stay "with her" in her home until it sold.

The house she was so adamant in staying in, was such a gift to us after losing Mom. I returned time and time again, wandered through the rooms and just breathed in her presence, felt all the feelings being in her home allowed me to feel and just remembered.

One of Mom's neighborhood rabbits. I snapped this picture September 24th and sent it to my siblings, with the caption:
"Feeling serene and enjoying the morning. Just thought I'd share the joy."

I loved watching the rabbits at Mom's, which explains my obsession with the rabbits that have moved into our neighborhood.

I haven't seen a rabbit for well over a week now. I keep looking for them but without the allure of rabbit treats under our fir tree, the rare times I spot them they are hopping through and don't linger. They've moved onto greener pastures.

I had a strong hunch if I settled in this morning, I would be pleasantly surprised with a visitation from one of our rabbits. I was right:

Coffee in hand, rabbit in our front yard, thoughts of Mom in my head ... I pinned my angel onto my shoulder. I think if Mom had any choice in the matter, she would be saying, "Here is a little angel to wear on your shoulder, to symbolize my presence when I am not here. You are in my thoughts and this is for you to have, to remind you that you are not alone ..."

Someone's Watching Over Me

I found this when I searched the words "someone's watching over you" as I wrote my previous post:



As I navigate my days, I am quietly comforted by the feeling of an unseen presence which surrounds me, akin to the rabbit tracks in our front yard. Just because you don't see something doesn't mean it's there.

I feel Mom's presence in, around and through me most poignantly.

I am almost always driving when I feel Dad by my side.

When we gather as a family, I find myself hoping Mom & Dad could be watching over the occasion.

I remember the palpable feeling of a presence all around me when I gathered together Dad's family's memories and locked myself in a room with them.

I felt a warm presence when we gathered the family together in the aftermath of the completion of the aforementioned book.

When I think of those who have passed through my life and beyond their physical presence here on earth I wistfully wonder if their presence remains close and touches the lives they were a part of.

When I feel this way, think these thoughts and wonder about all I can't see, I get the distinct feeling I am not alone. Someone's watching over me ...

She's In My Head

Have you ever been watching TV, listening to a song or hearing someone speak when suddenly it feels like someone pulled the unspoken words out of your head and said them aloud?

I have.

Grey's Anatomy seems to speak to a different part of my thoughts each time I watch a rerun of an episode I have watched numerous times before. Last night I was watching an episode where one surgeon was mentoring another and attempting to teach her all she knew before she died of a terminal brain tumor. These doctors spent night and day together at the hospital and the mentor-ship became personal.

When the terminally ill doctor started showing signs that the tumor was progressing, her life hung in the balance throughout the episode. Emotions at the surface, Arizona (the doctor being mentored) started to feel the reality unfolding and these words tumbled out of her:

“She’s in my head ... but I’m not ready for my head to be the only place she exists.”

Mom. I thought of Mom ...

My thoughts became so intertwined with Mom's throughout the years. The feeling escalated throughout her final year and by the end I felt she was as much a part of me, as I was myself. I was lost for a while as I adjusted to losing that part of my former self.

When she died, the feeling of closeness was so palpable. I felt her. I heard her. I predicted what she would have said and how she would have felt. I continued to advocate for her as though she was standing beside me and could hear every word I said.

It has been a gradual process but I have started to feel my own presence dominate once again. I continue to uphold Mom's memory and take a stand when someone misquotes or misunderstands her. But she isn't in my head any more.

Life has moved on without her.

Oprah speaks of the feeling that we are spiritual beings living in a human body. I don't know how much I understand or believe that statement but I do know Mom's energy was so very real right after she died. I felt her presence so keenly. I remember the feeling but I don't feel it so much now.

Someone was speaking of a topic where, in the past, Mom said in no uncertain terms the truth as she knew it. I heard Mom's words, I felt her conviction and I have fought to uphold her truth. The last time I found myself in this conversation I've had many times before, a little of Mom's fire within me had died. I still heard her. I continued to back her up. But the fire was missing.

It was a relief. Yet I missed it.

It has not been quite two years and I still feel like I'm regaining my footing at times. I have hit a new plateau. It feels like the circle of life has cycled around and I'm back to a place I have been before.

... ... ...

I wrote these words and stepped away to make myself some toast.

As soon as I saw my hands carefully spreading the butter to the edges of the toast, I saw Mom's hands buttering toast as she stood at the island in her kitchen. The moment I realized I took too much margarine as I went back for the final swipe, I heard Mom say, "I always try to take the exact amount I need so I don't get toast crumbs in the margarine." I placed the butter knife atop a Kleenex I had used for some minor wipes and swipes this morning and knew I would use this relatively clean tissue to swipe off the knife before I placed it in the dishwasher. I heard Mom again, "I just rip part of a paper towel off to clean off the knife ..."

Yes, I hear you Mom. I always have and I can only assume I always will. Thank you.

Thoughts of the Past

Another day, another birthday. As the birth of my youngest son loomed on the horizon I had one small wish. I hoped it wouldn't land on today. Today is my ex-husband's birthday.

It was a foolish wish but it was granted none-the-less. My thoughts of the anniversary of today and yesterday's anniversary are wide and diverse. As are my thoughts this morning.

My ex-husband is not well. The details are not mine to share but there is a story behind those words. Our parting was messy, complicated and we could never quite come to terms with a life where we were friendly but not a couple. So we remained complete and separate entities from each other.

After reading a biography recently and watching interviews with the author, she advised everyone to write their own memoirs. Not necessarily to share with the world but simply to chronicle your life. I took this to mean that in the act of writing, she unravelled some of her own thoughts and feelings about a rather complicated upbringing.

This statement made me think about the relationship I shared with my ex-husband. We were polar opposite of each other and people often wonder what brought us together. I wish I had a clear answer. I often glaze over the memories of our courtship and marriage and wish I had an arsenal of good stories to pass along to our children.

Our separation was not pretty. Our relationship was unhealthy. I felt the need to protect our children and do my level best to raise them in a manner in which history did not repeat itself. Our oldest son retained the memories of living within the confines of our marriage. Our youngest son was three months old when we left. He grew up not knowing his father but I remember his innocent years when he would comment, "My dad could fix this..." if only he had one (were the words I heard but were never said aloud).

There are chapters which could fill the gap between "then" and "now". I was a third party to the attempts of communication during the missing years. I did my level best not to influence our children's thoughts about their father but instead let his actions speak for themselves.

The father/son relationships never happened. There doesn't appear to be a story book ending in sight. I am afraid time is running out but there is little hope of changing the ending.

My oldest son gave me some insight on how he felt when long term relationships ended. He once told me he had to either love her or hate her. There was no middle ground for him. I wonder if that is how his father felt...

I'm walking into uncharted territory here but I have one wish. I would like the opportunity to sit down and reminisce with my ex-husband so I could piece together his memories with mine and remember the good times. I would like to have the full story in my head when I think of the story of "us".

This is something I have wished for, for forever but I dared not cross the line drawn in the sand between us. Is it too little, too late? Or is it simply too late? I simply want to have memories that remember the reasons we married and kept reconciling. I want to have something light and easy for our children to remember when they think about "us".

Long ago, I came to terms with our past. I would often say that I didn't love him or hate him. I simply felt indifference. Indifference is the opposite of love.

I would like to amend my previous statement to read that I have a healthy acceptance of what was, what wasn't and that we tried, tried and tried again to make our relationship work. I have forgiven myself for being unable to make this work but more importantly, I have accepted the fact that it simply couldn't. For reasons out of our control.

The story of "us" is a part of my life. I wouldn't change it if I could. The story of who we were together forged a big part in the person and parent I became. I think the struggle was worth the result. No regrets.

I Needed to Know I Tried

I woke up with thoughts of an irreparable relationship on my mind.

I had recently made a half hearted attempt to step through the past and simply move forward from where we are today. It didn't work.

"I tried." Those were the words I wrote down before I fell asleep last night. I tried.

 When I awoke, those very words were still speaking to me. Had I tried hard enough before everything fell into a state of disrepair? I truly believe I did.

I have held onto an envelope full of "evidence" I have never looked at since this relationship fell apart the final time. This morning, for the first time since I tucked that written correspondence away, I am tempted to reread the contents.

That broken relationship runs through my mind a lot these days.

"There are two sides to every story", I remind people as I relate the tales of my past. I am accountable for my actions. There were two people involved. Both parties were hurt. Innocent parties were hurt. I walked away for the sake of my children and I know in my heart of hearts I did the right thing. I know this. I believe this. I did what I had to do.

But out there, lies someone who is terminally ill. Their days are numbered. I find myself wondering what is going through their mind as they live their final days. I don't profess to know much, if anything, about their life after "us", but I used to know this person well. I just wanted to remind him we made many happy memories together. I loved him as much as knew how at the time. His life made a difference.

It is something I think I would appreciate hearing as my days wound down to a close. I just wanted to "do unto others"...

Out there, is a family who is wounded. I can't begin to imagine the walk they are walking. Everyone handles their pain differently. I believe I am a stranger to their brand of hurt but as a parent, I can only imagine ...

I simply wanted to offer to sit still with them as they feel, live and walk through this time. I'm the last person in the world they want to see but I feel responsible for my part in the past and I had hoped to offer my presence.

I am the wrong person, at the wrong time. But I tried.

The energy of the world knew what I needed before I needed it. I was just about to come home from my day and sit still with my thoughts when another person from another relationship from another time called out and invited me to go for coffee.

This too, was a broken relationship from years gone by. Again, there are two sides to this story. I did my fair share of damage to this relationship. We parted ways but despite the hurt, anger and heart ache we stayed connected throughout the years.

There are two sides to every story.

I am grateful for a parallel story which reminds me that it does take two people to make or break a relationship. Before, during and after. I'm grateful for the reminder that although I am responsible for my side of what went wrong within "us", I'm just as responsible for what has gone right.

I needed to be reminded of this. I am grateful.

I needed to know I have tried. I did. It is time to set this free.

Home ... Is Where Your Story Begins

I am at the stage I could only wish for one short year ago.

The acuteness of "missing Mom" has been gradually replaced by a feeling of remembering not only Mom, but Dad as well, as life moves on in a forward direction.

I heard myself speak of Mom and Mom alone for a very long time after she died. I longed for the day when those thoughts of Mom would be interspersed generously with thoughts of both Mom and Dad.

Dad died 31 years ago. He suffered brain damage from a massive heart attack almost five years before he died. We lost Dad so gradually (even though in retrospect, I now realize we lost "Dad" the moment he had his heart attack) that I never experienced the acuteness of missing him.

When he had his heart attack, my marriage was falling into a state of disrepair. I remember Mom and I talking of my marriage over Dad as we wondered about his prognosis and waited for him to wake up. I shake my head at the thought of that memory. I was 22 years old. I didn't know better. I do now.

When Dad died, it was days after I walked away from my marriage for the third and final time. Our separation was nasty and thoughts of walking forward from there superseded any other thoughts. We had lost the essence of Dad five years prior so part of this is understandable.

The only time I felt the reality of losing Dad was while he was still living and breathing. But not "Dad" any more. It was a surreal way to feel the loss of a parent. I didn't learn what I needed to know about love and loss.

I never felt like I fully honored Dad in the way he deserved to be honored. As the years unfolded, I felt, thought and honored Dad in my own way.

Then came the time when facing Mom's mortality became a reality. Mom was a strong, hearty and healthy soul until a time came when her health started to change. She rebounded each and every time but in the middle of those times, my heart ached with the knowledge that she wasn't going to live forever.

I mourned the loss of Mom before she died. I knew I would want to know I had done all I could do and was who I needed to be when Mom's time came. I may have become hyper aware of this eventual reality as I unconsciously created a life where Mom was my main focus.

My world became smaller so when Mom died and eventually all the loose ends of her life were tied up, I didn't have a life beyond Mom waiting for me. Yes, I had a few jobs, my children, good friends and a good life. But my passion for living was gone.

I spoke of Mom incessantly after she died. I kept her alive and well in my day to day thoughts. I missed her, I missed going to see her, I missed who she was to me. I lost a huge part of my life when she died and it was so much harder than I expected it to be.

It was hard because I really didn't care if I moved out of and beyond that phase. It was a sad day when I missed missing her.

Life moved on and carried me along with it. Bit by bit, I started looking outside my small little bubble and tentatively stepped back into life as I once knew it. I did a little gallivanting and took flight to see friends and do new things. I knew I turned a corner when I made plans, followed through on them, found myself in a different province visiting an old friend and I was astounded when I heard myself say "I actually looked forward to this trip!"

It was a first step of several. I finally found my wings somewhere up in the sky as I flew off to here, there and another place. I was finding my way back.

Except "back" was still a rather illusive destination. All I knew for sure is that home was where my heart was. I moved forward from there.

Life has gotten a little bigger than it once was. I'm still a little stingy with my time and energy but I'm involved in living my life. This is a good thing.

This house renovation was a gift in so many ways.

Financially, it was a gift from Mom and Dad. Dad, who worked so hard and invested so wisely during his 58 years here on earth, that Mom not only never had to worry about her financial state of affairs BUT she had an excess left over at the end of her days. Dad's work, along with Mom's ability to live on these funds wisely left us with a final gift from both of them.

I found it very hard to spend this money. I did nothing in haste. I pretended these funds didn't exist and didn't change my way of life. Until I went floor shopping with my son...

That was the beginning. As this renovation took on a life of its own, I felt Mom and Dad's presence within me every step of the way. Not one or the other. Both.

I wish I could sit across the table and share my morning coffee with them, but I can't. What I can do, is honor their memory, carry a piece of them within me, be grateful for every gift they gave me and live a good, honorable and full life.

Thanks, Mom and Dad. You have given us the basis for a very good story.

What is Next?

As I look back at "life", I can see how one life event prepared me for what happened next. I have learned the lessons I have needed to know in order to take the next forward step. Life has been very kind that way. It has taught me everything I have needed to know.

Our Senior Cat's illness and eventual death taught me how to advocate, show up and just enjoy the moments we had, while we had them. We didn't know what was around the next corner but we learned to savor the good stuff.

I was as mentally prepared for his death as one could possibly be. My head knew. But my heart hadn't caught up. The days preceding and following the day Andre took his last breath were heart breaking.

I learned that it was an honor to be with him when he died. He was not alone. It was sad but the consolation was knowing HE knew he was not alone.

I learned everything I needed to know to walk a very parallel path with Mom. She was not alone when she took her last breath. Who was with her wasn't as important as knowing SOMEONE was with her. I truly believe she knew she was not alone.

What was life preparing me for?

The irony does not escape me that both of the men I have had long and lasting relationships with, are struggling with their own health issues.

My (ex)husband has his parents and family to walk this walk with him. Though his future is bleak, he is not alone. For this, I am grateful.

It is my youngest son's father who is a concern. He is very much alone. He lives alone. Though two of his children live close by, he leads a rather isolated life. He is not well and seems to be getting progressively worse.

He has asked for my help.

I loved this man. I have respected this man. He is the father of my child. He is a good man. And he is alone.

I know the rule that has guided me through my life since Dad was hospitalized will prevail. A counsellor suggested I guide my actions by asking myself the question: "What can you live with after he is gone?"

What is next? I don't know. One step in front of another. What can I live with? The next right thing. Show up. That is all I know ...

I See Life

La-lah-bah-de-dah .... for the first time in a while ... I see life.

A part deep inside me writes those words and thinks I need to write really fast. Write while the iron is hot. Write before this feeling goes away.

But there is a deeper sense of "knowing" that is reassuring me. It is telling me to relax with this thought. Feel it deeply. Hold onto it. Let it settle deep into my soul. Because ...

I am entering a brand new chapter within this little life of mine.

Winter was hard. It was so hard. The shortest days were my longest ones. The lack of sun in the world around me paralleled the lack of sunshine within my thoughts.

The timing of tying up the loose ends of Mom's estate coincided perfectly with the longest, shortest and coldest days of winter. It was the perfect storm.

After a year of simply "doing the next right thing" without thinking too hard about where things were going, I suddenly stopped knowing what to do.

I had to stop and simply feel all I had been warrioring through, throughout the year past. Emotions caught up with me. And I felt them. Hard.

I felt sad. I felt lost. I felt lonely. I missed Mom. I replayed "The Year of Mom" over and over and over again in my mind.

Our last real conversation continues to haunt me. "What is your ten year plan?", she asked me. "You do know that your "bread and butter" [income sources] are both over the age of 80, don't you?"

Yes, Mom's words echoed throughout this relentless, hard, cold winter.

Then I wrote.

I sat down and wrote here just a few days ago. I reminisced about a year when I worked from home. I remembered how empowered I felt, knowing my work was right here under my own roof. I was my own boss in many ways. As long as the work got done, it didn't matter WHEN it got done.

Be careful what you wish for.

I wrote those words. I remembered that year. I was at peace in knowing "there will be a way ... some day".

Within hours of me picturing a reality I could feel at peace with, I was asked the question, "Would you [one day] move the office into your home?" I simply said, "Yes". I had thought it out before I knew the question would be asked.

This will happen. One day. There is a quiet knowing within me that says, "Don't wish for this to happen any time soon", but a deeper sense tells me "Be prepared".

Last year was preparing me for this year. I'm not ready for another year like the one I just put behind me. I will leave our home, go to work and be grateful for each and every day I must do so.

A new chapter is unfolding. It's not all good. It's not all bad. I know I will be ready for whatever unfolds. I just hope I have the tools to guide me in the best way possible.

I choose "life". Despite the harsh realities of life and dying. I choose "life".

For the first time in a while ... I see life. [Sung to the tune of "I See Love" ~ Mike and Molly's theme song]

Breaking the Silence

"If you haven't got anything good to say, don't say anything at all."

You're welcome.

My head has been all over the place. My thoughts have been more places than that. I've been ruminating, reflecting, remembering and trying to make sense of what comes to the surface. Honestly? I think it's growing pains. Again.

I'm tired of "growing".

Presently, I seem to be going through the phase where everything speaks to me. I can be watching the most inane television comedy and there is a nugget of information I am ready to hear. I can watch almost any video that "Goalcast" publishes on Facebook and I hear something that resonates with me. I can pick up a book and put my hands on the information I knew I had read before but forgot where it was.

I am enjoying this phase of enlightenment after some rather dark days.

I spent my four day long weekend at home. Alone. Alone with Mom's books, Netflix and my Goalcast feed on Facebook.

I "saw" our cats again. I was still enough to appreciate their sense of humor, their sense of catness and I fully appreciated enjoying watching where the term "copy cat" originated.

Most would say I wasted an entire weekend. Normally, I would tend to agree. But not this time.

I wanted to run. I wanted to find "quiet". I wanted to be still and distance myself from life. I considered running away to some kind of retreat. But there was no need to run. My oasis is located very conveniently under our very own roof.

I wasn't brave enough to face winter driving conditions. I had no desire to leave our home. I didn't want to run. I wanted to stay home and find comfort in all that surrounds me here.

I started my weekend journey at home by scanning the titles of Mom's books. She had been rereading Margaret Trudeau's books and had commented on how she enjoyed them. So that is exactly where I began.

I could have started and stopped there and it would have been enough. "The" book I was meant to read was in my hands. I found my road map.

I wasn't ready to absorb words before this. I could take in a few but I felt like a saturated sponge. I could take in only little bits at a time. Words, tears and emotions kept finding their way out of me, with little room to take in anything of value.

I have been unable to remove or relocate the papers and places where Mom has left indications of where she "last left off" that I have found within Mom's books. I made my way to her book about Mother Teresa, to find the order packing slip marking her spot. Mom had ordered the book from her local bookstore and Feb 26th, 2008 was the date it was packed up and sent. Almost exactly ten years ago...

Whispers of Mom's presence are everywhere within her books. The words I have found within them are like finding salve for a wound.

I feel more grounded. I am less fearful. I am stronger. I am wading through the mire and I believe I see a dry shore ahead.

I am missing a piece to the puzzle which is my life. I want to fill the void but not at the expense of altering the overall picture.

I'm searching. I'm filling myself up. I am not eager to push my way out of this cocoon but nature is stronger than I. I am destined to emerge. When I do, I will be stronger than I was before all of this began.

I'm redefining myself. I will always be my mother's daughter. But I will not always have Mom to urge me forward. My new definition of myself has changed.

It's happened before. It will happen again. I just hope I enjoy my new wings once I break free of all that is holding me, keeping me safe and cocooning me away from the year past.

"...behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begins."
- Mitch Albom, For One More Day

I've listened to Mom's stories my entire life. This is where mine begins...

Better Days

Last week was an emotional one. I broke a few times, shed a few tears and I was weary with the reality of facing the day.

One morning, I wrote a little, cried a little, wiped my tears and forged onward. I hopped in the car to go to work. As I backed out of the garage and headed towards my destination, these were the words my radio sang to me:

"I've been down, I've been down
Burning up like fever
Better days, better days
Are not so far away..."

These lyrics were followed by another song that spoke to my heart. I felt better, I looked up and ahead, then carried on.

I lived a few unremarkable days which were followed by speaking my heart out loud a few times. Speaking my thoughts unleashed another round of tears or two.

My eyes were weary, my heart was tired and I was invited out of my head (and our home) to join a friend for coffee. I wanted to wrap myself up with a warm blanket and peek my head out when spring arrived.

But I persevered. I hopped in the car to meet up with my friend. The radio sang out to me once again:

"I've been down, I've been down
Burning up like fever
Better days, better days
Are not so far away
I've been lost, I've been found
Now I believe in
Better days, better days
Are not so far away"
Hedley - Better Days

This was followed by:

"This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I'm alright song"
Rachel Platten - Fight Song

Yes! I sat up taller, felt a little stronger and my heart felt lighter.

I love when the car radio speaks to me. It doesn't always happen. Sometimes I find myself surfing the channels to find the music my heart needs to hear.

I know it is coincidence. I know it is not a mystical force of other worldly communication. But oh, how it soothes my soul to think that it could be...

I know I need to pull up my socks, stand up tall, look up and appreciate that "all is as it is meant to be".

I am impatient with this state of hovering in a state of limbo. Not knowing, not doing, simply existing but starting to feel.

Feeling is good. If I stifle the sad, the bad and the hard stuff, I may not be able to feel the good, the happy and easygoing as much as I could.

The only way through, is to keep taking one forward step at a time. Slow and steady. One step at a time. Look forward. Look up.

There always seems to be that one final blast of "winter" before spring comes to stay. I do believe I am simply feeling the seasons. Spring is coming...

Better days are not so far away.

My Life According to My Blog Archive

"How am I doing with my promise to write daily?" was (one of) my early morning thoughts:

Well? All things considered, it looks like 2018 will outrank 2017 when it comes to the frequency of posts. But I'm still off to a slow start.

I started writing out loud in January of 2008. It was the winter of "Building Courage" after my last and final break up with the man I thought I would marry. 

Thoughts of "forever" were dashed and after the initial stages of grieving that loss, I picked myself up and built a pretty incredible little life.

As my eyes scan the years, I see the highlight reel run past me:

2008

The year of Mom's family's book of memories

The year of inviting family and friends into my life and our home

The year of my hernia surgery, which led up to:

2009

The year I returned to school

The year I started to dance like people were watching because ...

I started to prepare to compete in a dance competition, which was in:

2010

The year I danced 

The year I started doing bookkeeping out of my home

The year of great flexibility

Family and leisure first 

I worked in my day job in between the cracks

All good things must come to an end, which led to:

2011

The year my job lost its flexibility

I stuck it out until I returned from my great Alaskan holiday adventure

I quit my job and...

I was hired by the school system

I thought my work challenges were over

Little did I know they had just begun.

2012

The year of working to regain my reputation within my job at the school

The year of regaining my sense of self

The year I broke

What in the world was I going to do to support myself if I couldn't hold down a job in the "real world"?

It was the year I reopened my daycare.

2013, 2014, 2015

These were years of coasting a little

They were years of "showing up" and being there for others

They were years with shadows of ill health, loss and grief.

I finally completed the book of memories for Dad's family

It was a time of family bonding, in good times and in sad

These were years of starting to become more concerned about Mom's health.

2016

The year my daycare died

The year Mom fell and I started seeing the world in a whole new light

The year I restarted my "career". Again.

2017

The year of Mom

2018

The year after Mom has brought me back to where I started 

I am back at the beginning of 2008 all over again. 

I need to find ways to (re)build my courage. 

I feel like I'm recovering after a break up.

I crave, need and live for my weekends

When the weekend arrives, I feel like a broken hearted survivor of a relationship that has ended

A weekend without purpose, is a weekend lost.

I am no longer revolving my life around my desire to head back out to Mom's

I have been sleep walking through the weekends

They serve little purpose, other than giving me the strength to endure another work week.

When I first started writing within this little space of mine, my focus was on finding a positive spin about any little thing.

Mom marvelled at the fact that I could come up with a story about nothing

I liked my writing back in those days.

I have discovered so many inspirational writers and speakers throughout these years

Glennon Doyle is the most all-encompassing truth teller and motivator I know

I love everything I have read by Glennon.

Glennon speaks of "writing from a scar and not from an open wound"...

I'm writing from an open wound right now.

I keep picking the scab and it won't heal

I may never write again if I wait to write from the scar that will eventually form.

So I'm writing from a wound which starts to heal

Then breaks open when I least expect it.

I felt so courageous as I lived "The Year of Mom"

I feel weak and vulnerable now.

I mostly speak of the lessons learned,

Memories made,

Conversations had.

I am grateful for a year with so few regrets.

I guess the year took its toll on me after all

I created a world where I focused on Mom.

Mom is gone.

I have weekends at my disposal and I have grown accustomed to being selfish with my time

I saved my energy for those trips to Mom's

I gathered up all my optimism and packed it up with me each and every time

I did not want to be a Gloomy Gus while in Mom's presence.

Mom is gone

And I am sad

I have time

But I don't have the energy to share what I have

I'm used to saving it up for a rainy day.

It's raining now

You can't save energy

You have to generate it from action

Doing

Becoming

Being courageous.

The most courageous thing I do these days, is go to work

My work days deplete me

I feel like a wet dish rag at the end of my days away from home

I long for weekends.

I need to find a renewed purpose

I need to push myself out and beyond these moments.

Building courage becomes harder with age

Becoming comfortable with the quiet feels easier

But (as Mom said at the very end of her life), "This ... is not living".

Mom is right again.

She always was.

I will persevere

I will rebuild and restart life as I know it from where I am

I've done it before

I'll do it again

I will create a year worth remembering.

And this too, shall pass...

Stages of Living

As I hover in this no-man's-land between today and tomorrow (I really wanted to type the words "Past" and "Future", but I think it is healthier to think of this in present tense), I asked myself the  question: "What IS this phase I am going through?"

Is it grief? I suppose that may have something to do with this state of inertia. My thoughts wander backwards more than they do forward. I spend an awful lot of energy remembering, reflecting and coming to terms with life as I now know it. I suppose that is most likely considered a part of the grieving process.

I didn't google "Stages of Grief". I didn't want to pigeon hole myself into someone else's thinking. I want to find my way through and beyond this.

I feel I stuck in a state of limbo. I am simply living life one day at a time without an eye on the long term.

I'm in between dreams at the moment. I live life to the fullest when I have a dream to pursue.

I think of past dreams - dancing, writing, house renos, a few vacations, education, work aspirations, evolving relationships - and none of the above move me into a dream state right now.

The need for change has always been my biggest motivating factor. Walking away from my marriage, leaving a secure job to raise my own children, abandoning a relationship I wasn't capable of fixing. Parenthood dictated many life changing choices - getting married; moving to a new province; opening my daycare ...

Closing my daycare was the last life altering choice I made. It was the right thing to do. I walked away from a job which was dictated my life, tied me to home and felt suffocating. Out of the rubble, I found myself in a place where I was afforded all the flexibility I needed.

Which, long story short, leads me to "today".

I am stuck between the need for flexibility and the desire for the very same flexibility. I am enjoying a Friday morning off work because I still have some of that flexibility. But without a tangible dream to chase, I am wasting the time I have been given. I'm drifting at sea.

I am living without a dream.

There isn't a drastic need for change. In fact, the people I work for need me more than ever. I need to stay exactly where I am. Which is safe, familiar and (unfortunately) I am starting to feel a little bit suffocated.

"Suffocation" has been a common thread among every major change within my life. When life started demanding more than I had to give, I started pushing away and eventually walked away. Relationships, parenting, work. Even dancing started taking more than it gave back to me. Vacations? Same thing.

I thrive on the independence that comes from a symbiotic relationship with the world. A mutually beneficial relationship between me and the people I surround myself with and the life I create. The yin to another's yang. The give, the take, the mutually beneficial sharing of the good, the bad and the ugly.

Perhaps that is why it was so easy for me to be there for Mom. She didn't ask for help. She was never needy. She pushed her independence to the bitter end. She never once asked for anything. The very most she said was "You could move in ...", but she would immediately counter that with, "You have to get back home. You have a life." Right to the end.

Mom knew I had people and a family depending on me at home. She was pushing me away. She was telling me I needed to go live my life.

She also knew this life would be a drain on me. "What is your ten year plan?" The conversation that haunts me to this very day. She knew I needed to look beyond the moment I am in, the life I am leading and find a new goal. A dream.

I am not a lover of this dreamless state. It is temporary. I need to look beyond where I am at. But I'm starting to feel a little suffocated and I don't have the luxury of walking away this time. I am as committed to these people, as I was to Mom. Except they aren't pushing me away.

It's hard to be needed.

My little family is growing more and more independent from me and I feel like that is "success". To parent a child who can function fully independent of their parents is my definition of a job well done. I am very much enjoying the stage of parenting independent children. It is (what I feel) a rather symbiotic, mutually beneficial relationship.

One never entirely outgrows the need for their parent. Not entirely.

This stage. The stage of "unbecoming" Mom's daughter is foreign to me. Mom didn't need me but she was part of my identity. She still is. I need to reroute my thoughts and look in a forward direction.

One forward step at a time.

The dreams will come ... 

Possession Day

Today is the day the keys to Mom's home are handed over to its new owners.

When this thought first crossed my mind this morning, it was due to the fact that a snowfall warning showed up as an alert on my phone. "Trev won't have to worry about the snow at Mom's any more", was the passing thought I had.

This is it. The end of an era.

We moved into that house on November 1st, 1976. The only thing I really remember about the move is the fact that the previous owners had rarely cleaned the top of the kitchen cupboards and there was years grime and grease built up on them. Mom wistfully said, "I'll give you a dollar if you clean them!" I'd do pretty much anything for a dollar, so clean them? I did.

The last time I was at Mom's, I checked out the tops of those cupboards to ensure they were clean for their new owners. Granted, most of those cupboard tops are now covered since a sunshine ceiling was built, but what remained was clean. You're welcome.

My room was yellow. I made a quilt for my room and tried my hand at decorating. I even entered a redecorating contest a youth magazine was holding at the time. I didn't win, but at the time, I thought I had a good chance. I have no idea what happened to that quilt. I'm certain I must have taken it with me when I moved out, but it never made it to our Saskatoon home.

Little things.

I only lived in that house from November 1st, 1976 until February 24, 1978, yet it felt like a lifetime.

I got my first job while I lived there. I saved up and bought a bedroom suite, a 10" color TV and a none-too-fancy stereo. I was very proud of what I had accumulated on my own, to bring into my brand new marriage.

My wedding pictures were taken in the living room, with some somewhat gaudy looking velvet wallpaper as a backdrop to those photos...

Dad and me

Me and my mom

That was almost 40 years ago ...

I moved back home for about ten months after my marriage ended. All tolled, I lived in that home a mere 26 months. It was not about the time it was my home, it was about all of the years it was our family home and how it always felt like "home" to me. Always.

That house saw so very much. A highlight reel of occasions waft through my mind as I type those words.

"It's a good house for entertaining", my brother said to me during one of our last walk-throughs of Mom's home. Oh, the stories those walls would have to tell, if only those walls could talk.

That house saw us through so very much.

As I sit here and think of letting it go, I tend to think of Mom and Dad's lives ending during the years they owned that home.

Dad was far too young. His story scrolls through my mind ...

Mom's touch was in every nook and cranny of that house. As we went through the process of emptying, sorting and getting the house ready to leave our family, I wandered through each and every room and breathed in the essence of Mom.

The day she died, I could feel her presence when we came back to her house. She was still so close. Each time I returned, I felt her essence a little bit less and less. The last time I was there, I did little more than simply breathe in the moments. I could almost hear tell me to stay another day when the cold weather didn't break. I heard her. And I stayed. At the time, I felt I could have lingered in that existence between "then" and "now" forever.

Almost a month has passed since that day.

The only real reason I would have gone back, would have been to return her ironing board that doesn't fold. It belongs in Mom's laundry room. An ironing board that doesn't fold NEEDS to be in a laundry room like Mom's. It was not in the way. It served a purpose. Mom was always quite proud of her ironing skills and she had a room which made ironing easy.

Yes, that house was tailor made by and for Mom. And her family. Yes, it was a great house for entertaining. So many memories. So very, very many of them are light and easy and family filled. I hear the laughter, the voices and stories that were told under that roof. I hope the echoes of those days remain part of my memories forever.

 It was a good house. I hope it goes on to become part of another family's story...

The World Just Keeps on Spinning

So many thoughts, so few words. That seems to have been the theme of this weekend past.

My youngest son turned into an adult on Saturday and the world just keeps on turning in exactly the same way, in the same orbit. Yet he has been expecting less and less (and less) of me lately. His grocery wish list is almost "nil". His expectations at meal time? Not much. This is the pitfall of being a child of mine. My children's mouths never start to water when they think of coming home. New clothes? No thank you. Haircut? Maybe later. Then yesterday he made a comment "Now that I'm an adult, I won't cost you as much because you don't have to pay for me any more". Whoa, Nellie. That will come all in due time, my son. For now, you are still in high school and fully dependent upon me. This will not change over night. One day at a time ...

My aunt (Mom's sister) passed away on Saturday. She has not been well for a while now. She was 92 years old. It wasn't her death I was thinking of, it was the memories we collected for Mom's family's book. It was all the stories Mom told me of her sister over the years. It was the "sister relationship" they had over the years. I smile at the thought of the two of them chatting like teenagers on the phone, when they both got a long distance bundle and made the most of that time while the chatting was good.

I have always related to this aunt the most. Her life was not an easy one, yet you would never have known it. She focused on memories of better times. Her memories may have been bittersweet but I never heard her sound bitter.

She was quiet as a child and had a quiet strength about her. She was my hero. I believe I even told her that. We were penpals for a short while but it became hard for her to write back (and she always replied), then she started having trouble with her vision.

I pulled out her letters to me and reread them. I compiled some of the pictures I have collected and made a little "collage". Thoughts of conversations, memories and little things Mom has said over the years wafted in and out and through my mind. I am grateful to have known my aunt as well as I did. I am grateful I stepped out of my small little world and collected her stories, along with the rest of Mom's family's memories.

My heart aches just a little bit that only one of the "authors" of that little book of memories is still with us. I wonder how Mom feels. She describes herself as "stoic" and it is a very good word for her. She is strong and rarely shows weakness or wears her emotions on her sleeve. Yet it feels like "this" could feel different.

The world just keeps on spinning. No matter what happens within the lives of those we care deeply about, the sun sets on one day and shows up bright and early the next morning. The weather may be unpredictable but night and day, one season turning into the next and the fact that "life goes on" is one thing we can always count on.

Faith

Faith in a power greater than myself has been a part of who I am and what I believe ever since Alanon introduced that phrase into my life.

When life becomes to big and too great and too tall, sometimes one simply has to surrender. Let the chips fall as them may, stand out of the way and work with what you find left at the end of it all.

I have wanted to believe in a God but I haven't been able to commit to that idea. So I believe in a "power greater than me". I believe it will all work out in the end. I believe in what I cannot see because I simply trust that life will unfold in a manner in which it was meant to be. I believe I will be strong enough to handle what I have been given.

I have been knocked down to my knees at times and instinctively I look up and say "Help me" to an unknown force above. 

I don't have a tangible belief system but I have faith. 

I listen to those who are strong in their belief and I incorporate their words into what I feel. I believe everyone has to find what they believe in. We are unique in the ways we interpret the world and why bad things happen to good people and all of life's injustices.

My mind is open and my faith is undefined but I feel strong in my own personal convictions.

When life hands a person a very difficult hand and they turn to faith and become the absolute best Christian, wife, mother, friend, person they can be, I can only hope that their faith and their God is strong and capable enough to hold onto them and guide them through the darkest of times.

When a death is tragic, sudden and one may always wonder if it could have been prevented, I hope there is a God to pick up where a parent has left off. I hope that God comes to those who are mourning and as He wraps his arms around them, whispers in their ear "I've got him now. He is safe in my arms. I could not have chosen a better parent for him than I found in you. He was safe in your arms on earth. I've got him now ..."

There has been a tragic loss within our family. This family has great faith and that is absolutely the only consolation I can find in my mind. No human being is strong enough to carry the sorrow, the loss, the pain of a parent who has lost a child. Knowing this family has a strong faith to carry them through these dark days is a small consolation. But it is better than nothing.

There are no words, no answers, and it feels dark and heavy. Having faith in a power greater than yourself to carry you through the unthinkable, a loving and supportive family and community are only a few small gifts one can hope to find at a time like this.