Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts

Friday, February 28, 2020

Schrödinger's Dog

Schrödinger's Dog by Martin Dumont, translation by John Cullen, ©2020, Other Press

Loss is a difficult topic for people to read about. Grief is messy and hard, and full of emotions that many don't know how to deal with. When you mix loss of spouse with critical illness of a child, the result might seem more than anyone can bear, but Martin Dumont handles it honestly in his debut novel Schrödinger's Dog.

Yanis is a single parent. His wife died in a car accident almost twenty years ago, after a serious illness. He was left with a young boy—Pierre—whom he devoted his life to. But now there is something wrong with Pierre and Yanis doesn't know how to fix it. He can avoid the issue, like he did with his wife when she was ill, but putting Pierre inside a box doesn't stop the cancer that ravages his body. Time is racing and bringing up a grief that Yanis didn't even know he had. But the box is open and can no longer be closed.

Does something exist if we don't look at it? That is a theory of quantum mechanics that Physicist Erwin Schrödinger proposed in 1935; that if you put a cat in a box with a potential poison, until you observe it, the cat simultaneously may be alive or dead. It is more complicated than that, but also simpler. It boils down to observation. Is something real if it is not directly observed? That is the story that Dumont plays with in his poignant novel.

A theory exists that Yanis' wife committed suicide. He never fully contemplates it, thus gives no life to the supposition. As Pierre's health declines, he refuses to see the signs. But can he create an alternate world for his son regardless of the reality that comes with his illness? This is something many people who have faced serious illness wish for, but the box is sadly fallible. Looking in the box or not does not change the outcome. But the story itself is yours to write.

Dumont does a lovely job of exploring loss, grief, and the emotional challenges that come with it in Schrödinger's Dog. For a slim novel, it packs a punch worth reading. 

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Soar

Death and dying. I sense a theme. Is it the age I am at? Really? Early forties?! A mite young for contemporaries, but we are exposed to death at any age.

At age of 5, my father died. A few years later, his mother died from grief—god speed Gaga.

The years passed and family friends faded away; some old, many young. Cancer, you fiend, you were often the cause.

Lest you be a stranger, cancer came knocking again. After a seeming lull, you knocked on my door to announce your presence in my husband's life; his leg. You took your pound of flesh, then within a scant few years came calling for the rest.

Thirties—that's what Brad was. Too young, but you don't play with numbers. I have seen children touched by your mark. You are ruthless in your indeterminate arc.

I thought I had made peace with you. After fearing the C-word for most of my life, I saw the other side. Some fought the good fight and won. They looked you in the eyes and met you—survived. They were given a reprieve; the gift of rebirth. Oh, I know it means you lurk forever in the wings taunting with what-ifs, but when given the second chance to cherish every day once more, it is worth the gamble.

But today, you snuck in from the wings. Bert hadn't even seen 60. She lived a good life; rarely drank, drove the speed limit, took care of her mother... No matter. It was enough for you. It seems unjust! She lived for her cats, to do a good job at work, and to make sure her mother was well cared for. Now what? She complained, but not early enough. Surgeons opened her up to find you everywhere. Your chaos was more than anyone could battle. Within a month poor Bertie was gone.

And I found out too late.

No funeral, no mass, no fanfare. It was her way, but leaves me hollow. How does one say goodbye when the guilt of days passed stands in the way of goodbye? I should have called. I could have visited. No more.

I'm sorry Betha. I wish you had been given a fairer shake in this thing called life. More moments, Bigger joy, in depth love to make a heart swoon. It was not to be.

Perhaps this is my reminder to reach for those moments myself. Just this week I noted my lack of joy, the infrequent pangs of love, and the crazy busy life I lead, which, while hectic, doesn't fulfil my heart's desire. Is someone trying to tell me something? Live life before the unknown number of allotted days are gone...

Oh Bert. I am so sorry for your quick departure. I hope you find your way to the next life and discover more joy in it. Blessings to you my friend.


RIP BK. Soar...


Friday, April 24, 2015

Mizpah



11 - the number of years we would have had
what would have happened?
where would we be?
would it have been deserving of steel?
or would we have survived babies?

7 - the number of years you've been gone
so many moments
lost before their time
I've stumbled and reworked them
a life that should have been our prime

3 - the number of years we had
marriage was a gift
one I didn't quite  foresee
you gave me all your everything
your love for eternity


I never will forget
the days when you were mine
I still live them every day
our hearts will always twine

Happy Anniversary my love. We would have been married 11 years today. While our days were stolen early, I'll always celebrate the time I had with you and take joy in your living memory left to me in our children. Blessings to you sweet man.

We've got mizpah...

Thursday, October 2, 2014

To See Further

as the wind blows
as my story goes
people come
and others flow

through my pictures
in my dreams
just fleeting memories
so it seems

one yesterday
and another now
my losses strained
against furrowed brow

they keep adding up
to make me fall
they keep challenging life
leaving behind a dark pall

standing there
you were so strong
you'd gone before me
knew the sad song

grief enough 
to fill my head
you brushed me off
and smiled instead

with old gnarled hand
you reached to me
took up my burden
laid it aside gently

not near so bad
as it did feel
this too shall pass
with more feelings real

for many years 
you strode the path
looked death in the eye
feared not its wrath

but today you lost
your life so sweet
no goodbyes said
from across the street

how do we know 
when our time has come
can you make peace
before the reaper's last drum

Dear Larry is gone
but not forgot
his gift to me
to see further than one aught



Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Burnt Pictures

Somewhere between a smile 
and a sigh
the world swirled,
stopped
and set my soul
on fire
burning pictures 
of life 
as I knew it


Gusts
blow through me
leaving me cold
as the ice that threatens
to form 
over yesterday's
love

This is not how it was supposed to be
This is not
what I expected 
when I looked at your face
This is not
a reality
I ever wanted to explore

Now
closing my eyes
can't erase the words
won't replace the facts
refuses to change the future
nor
 any tomorrow


I hold onto
the last vestiges 
of colour, hope, faith
and pray 
that we can 
all 
weather the storm
that approaches...

*for those that worry; a tale of love lost, but not my own

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

rebirth

I twisted in my sheets, trying to escape the visions in my mind. He was there. It was lies and I knew it, but my dreamscape refused to allow reality any sway. So, he knocked on my door. He told me that he had been thinking about me. With a sincerity in his voice, that didn't match his dark eyes, he told me that he missed me. He begged me to let him in. To let him do something for me, anything at all...


Before I knew what was happening, he was fixing my toilet (nevermind that there wasn't a thing wrong with it during daylight hours). He slathered it with a pink goop, that faded back to white before my eyes. Like he had done nothing at all. And he hadn't. But I knew the damage was done. He had broken my spirit once again. 


I screamed at myself to be strong. I demanded that I throw him out before things took a different turn. And then he was kissing me. I couldn't push away. My soul didn't respond, but my body refused to make him stop. Silent tears that only I could feel were all I could muster, as my panties hit the floor. He remembered, took his way with the shell of me and stepped back into the old pattern of leaving the way that he had come.


But love sat on the swing in the front yard. There was no movement, but I knew it was there and finally refused to let history run away again. This time I had to find truth, even if it killed the only good thing in my life. I introduced the man in the swing, to the man with his hand on a car door, ready to disappear into the night. My words were the only thing that broke a tension tight enough to kill.


The swing swayed in the silent breeze left behind. No words were spoken, but I knew that I had lost. The only thing that I could do wrong had come to pass. My fear of everything and nothing was realized, as I stood alone on the doorstep again. Loss was the only partner that I deserved. 


The morning sun burned away the fog, but the dream stayed with me. Loss, my familiar partner, deceiver and liar extraordinaire had won again. Was this a warning, an accusation of spirit or a guilt-induced escape to safer climes? My ravaged garden didn't know the answer, but offered solace in its rebirth. And warm arms that gently turned me around to spill into limitless eyes absorbed the tears that finally fell. The dream was not my reality. This was...





Thursday, July 14, 2011

A Goodbye


heart
filled  up
with a thousand 
sparks  of  disbelief
over  the  loss  of  you...


Alone 
to  face
tomorrow
no direction 
to claim as safe
when I crumple
to the floor
in grief
with
out
u

~

A funeral for a friend of the family has me preoccupied and sad, as the world spins on tonight. Another spark is pinched out just when it is needed most. Strength to you Pat.


Blessings George. May your journey to the beyond be well...

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Snapshot of my Past

Mother's Day 2005
Sun shone.
Air
gentle and mild
plastered faces in smiles
My first Day.

Eyes held a beginning tale
that would conclude 2 years later
when Daddy faded
from this picture


-/\-
(Aw shucks, that isn't a very happy mother's day poem is it? The pic was taken on my first mother's day; a few weeks after Daddy was diagnosed with cancer. Daddy's kind of help to make Mother's Day more special, so even though it is supposed to be a day to celebrate me, I tend not to be so excited. I know my girlies have special treats for me though, so I will do my best to smile for them & be a happy mommy)


Happy Mother's Day to You
& Happy Sunday 160.
Go visit some of the other folks
who link in and get your fill
of reading about Mommy's praises
as I am sure they will abound.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

April Showers

river is swollen
sky refuses to stop crying
gray skies match my eyes
~

Just needed a reminder today.



Thursday, March 31, 2011

It's 3 o'clock and Daddy's Nowhere to be Found

It’s 3 o’clock in the morning and you are wrenched from sleep by the distinct sound of your child whimpering from their room. You dash down the hall, only to find you’re too late and not only have a child to soothe, but a mess to clean up. This is the start of a potentially long day. We’ve all been there, and it doesn’t shape up into anything pleasant, but what about if Daddy is nowhere to be found?
If you are a single parent with another child to tend to, and start your day like this, then life might be a wee bit miserable for the day. And while it might not bring much comfort, you are not alone. According to Statistics Canada’s 2006 records, 15.9 % of all families in Canada were lone-parent families. That’s 1,414,060 single-parent families within our borders[1]. There’s a lot of potential for a logistical nightmare, if those families tending to an ailing child, also have to provide for other children as well. With brains racing through the previously planned activities of the day, such as shuttling children to school, or getting to that big game, what do you do with your sick child that has their head hung in the toilet?


[1] 2006 Census – Statistics Canada



Well in my case, I hold the garbage can for my little girl's head, and pray that the bug doesn't spread beyond her. It is one thing to have an ill child, but to follow one sick child with another, or even to fall pray to illness myself, makes life more than tricky. I don't want to go down that road. I am hoping for blue skies in my tomorrow, but we shall see.

Today I begged a favour from a neighbour to watch the poor pasty girl and ran the other to school, then hunkered down for the day. I managed to still be productive between bouts of dry heaves, by working on this article (see beginning of it above) for the class that I had to cancel this evening. Laundry got done, but the icky smells in the house made that a priority, so I don't claim to be a superhero there. I kept a water glass filled and held hair out of the line of fire. I was here to help, but was mostly helpless to stop the ills of the day. It had to run its course.

Now I am tired. My sleep was interrupted and the flow of my day was far from ideal. My child was ill and I sat back and watched, offering what little support I could. I feel melancholy and alone at the end of this day. I have supports, but these are the days when I miss the normal that "you" have. You two parent families. You single parent families that can call the missing parent back into the fold for crisis. You are blessed and I hope you cherish that. I survived, but am reminded of my loss again. Damn lonely day.

I am going to lay my weary body to bed. Kiss your children. Tell your partner you love them. Let's all hold the world a little closer in our hearts today.Tomorrow is a new day.





Thursday, December 23, 2010

A Christmas Toast

Over at One Stop Poetry today, there is a suggestion to write something to honour family at Christmas time. I started with a different thought, but this story of love and generousity was a part of my Christmas a few years ago. It took centre stage, so I let it have reign on my page. I share it to honour my husband and the love and respect that he elicited from all those he touched. Enjoy.

Christmas was upon me.
I could not smile or glee.
It had been mere months
since death had claimed thee.

I pushed myself to function.
I strained myself not to cry,
but my heart lie still in tatters
and I too wanted to die.

Your Co-workers refused to listen
when I tried to decline their cheer.
They insisted I join the revelry
and at their party must appear.

I had no choice, but compliance.
Wiped tears and donned false smiles.
Their hugs of joy were too worthy
for a girl far from love by miles.

We ate, drank and were merry.
Shared stories til speeches were nigh,
then sombre I grew, as attention they drew
to myself  ushered forth to their eyes.

Beautiful stories were issued.
Thoughtful memories were shared to enthrall,
then to my surprise a check materialized
in my name, for my family, from them all.

Speechless, I stood in front of them.
Mine eyes blinking back full disbelief.
How could they know how this touched me so
in my heart shattered still by so much grief.

Their pockets were emptied in your name.
Wealth was shared from men, coast to coast.
And here stood I, staring at nary a dry eye
Trembling as they called for a toast.

To Brad, was the shout from the tables.
To Brad, was  the feeling round the room.
My love, it was beauty at its finest
and their hearts were opened all just for you.

I shook as I raised glass in your name
Tears fell, uncheckered from my heart
They saw the special in you, that I also knew
Their gift, to give me a fresh start.

Your heart, I feel its presence
nearly every day.
Your heart, I know it beats
yet strong for me.

but on that blessed eve
your love's magic it did weave
and not alone was I that night
when I did leave.

    {}{}{}

Merry Christmas to all of you at One Stop
and all of you who have touched my heart over the years
You all help to keep me going & for that I am grateful. 
Blessings to you all.

Friday, August 20, 2010

The End of Your Song

Tears stream,
nay in yesterday's dream,
but drizzle fair
given memory's care.
 I walked this path before...

I need no help
to see your face,
yet wordsmith's gift
took me back to that place.
  This path took me right to your door...

Bedside horrors.
Unbelieving strife.
It wasn't supposed to be like this!
This shouldn't be my life!
   The door thrown open once more...

Words lost between ethers.
Throat dry in the chaos.
My pleading eyes
leave no room for lies
    Propped open to dramas of undone life ...

They turn away their shoulders
intent not to stare at my loss
lest it find ways to their doors.
I mute and dumb, crumble as shock kicks in
     Undone by the end of your song...

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Cutting Grass

   Rain patters outside my window. I hustled, but the grass got trimmed, although not edged. I get so many odd looks when I toodle around on my riding mower. Don't know if people think I am brave to ride such a thing or crazy to have one without the acreage to go with it. The kids think it is great though and it saves me a little time, which is a precious thing. To be fair it was a gift to my late husband, from his co-workers. They knew he had mobility issues in his last days and our old mower was giving up the ghost on us. They did a pass the hat at work and showed up one evening with it in the back of a trailer. He was shocked, embarrassed and pleased as punch all at the same time. He thought that they were coming by to take our older mower and have its deck re-welded. That eventually did get done as well, but the riding mower was a heart-felt gift that gives me great joy.
   Thunder rumbles. Good thing I got done fast! The first time I tried to use the riding lawn mower was a sight to see. Hmm. I was almost in tears. While I have had some lessons in standard vehicles, that was not enough for me to wrap my head around making this piece of equipment go on that day. I put the key in the ignition and turned it, with no response. I read all the stickered instructions plastered all over the place at my feet and tried again. This time I pushed the clutch peddle in and turned the key. I got a rumble, but still could not get it to fire. I tried again, and again. I re-read the instructions and looked at all the levers and handles. I felt small and powerless, as I struggled with making this machine come to life. I wanted so badly to take control of my life and accomplish something all by myself. I got angry. I got teary. I got nothing more than a puff of smoke and noise. Just when I wanted to burst into tears and kick the object that was reeking havoc on my life and brittle self-esteem a voice said,
   "Hello Kathy."
   I looked up. Normally I don't go by Kathy (always been a Katherine), so I knew it was not someone I knew well. My elderly  neighbour was ambling across the road. He had been watching me attempting to get the mower going and saw that I was loosing the battle. He is a kindly man in his eighties that had lost his wife a few years back. Now he lived alone, but still gets around. I noticed he was out trimming his bushes, as I cut my grass this morning. Hugs to you Larry! Anyway, that day Larry made a little small talk.
   "It looks like you are having a little trouble there," he said.
    I hung my head and admitted my incompetence. The man is so sweet and I think his kindness that day came from a compassion born of our kinship. He knew grief and could see it all over me. My problem was the mower, but the bigger problem was learning how to live again without the appendage that was my spouse.  Brad had always cut the grass previously with our riding mower. I was well-versed in a push mower, but had nothing to fall back on to help me in this new task at hand. There was no one I could turn to in my house to ask for help or to hand the task over  to. You see, my tears were not over the fact that I could not get the mower to work. My tears were another manifestation of loss and grief. I was alone. I wanted to be able to function, but at every turn realized that a piece of my life, a piece of me was gone. The mower was a reminder and at that moment in time, I could not go it alone. I needed help, but did not know how to ask or even who to ask. Truly, I did not want to have to  ask for help. I felt like I required help every step of the way and it just seemed to beat me down. On that day, a guardian angel appeared in the form of my 85 year-old neighbor and he gave me the help I needed graciously. 
    Now I feel the windows are not full of rain, but clouded by tears with this memory. I have had so many beautiful people step into my life at moments of need. Sometimes they step in for a moment, like Larry did. Other times they have held my hand for days, weeks and months. Still others will walk with me for the years that I call a lifetime. I do not know why I thought of this today, other than that I had to cut the grass. Most days I am pretty stable and happy with life. I managed to winterize the mower myself this past winter. I cut the grass whenever it needs without a bat of an eye. I know that I will be hit by moments of grief on occasion and that will continue for a long time to come. Always I will have that experience of loss there. The sorrow that goes with it lessens over time. This I have been told and know from my own experiences. Today, I remember as I watch the rain. Hopefully I will let it go this afternoon, as I breathe and lay my head on the yoga mat. Namaste. 

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

The Dassie

I sat on the rooftop watching the night sky without seeing a star. I sat staring out the window of the moving van, missing all the wonders of the world that travelled by me. I sat crumpled on cold boulders waiting for the tears to come and willing the ocean’s power to absolve my aches. I sat and sat and sat.
The day before we left, I had made a phone call across the oceans, that was inspired by dreams of home. That phone call stole my breath away, as my not-forgotten mate had been heavy on my mind. The receiver had burned in my grip, as a picture was painted of my lover in another’s arms. The phone had seemed to jump from my hand and swung loosely, as my feet lead me away into the night. Anger swarmed me from all sides, but I walked out of its grip. Where I walked, I do not know. My lack of excitement at exploring this new land matched the gray horizons that I woke to. I had no heart to move forward and be, so just sat staring at the world around me through glazed eyes. On one hand, I had expected something like this, but on another I was shocked still. The days that had passed had presented me with offers. I had battled away from them, not sure where I was leading my travelling heart. Now it seemed obvious that I had orchestrated this all along, and I wondered what direction I was to move in next. Africa held my heart excitedly in its grip and beckoned me to stay today, tomorrow and forever more. I was numb. I let the world come and present to me what it would. It did not disappoint. A misty morning found some friends to keep me company on my last day in Mossel Bay before heading off down the coast to Jeffery’s Bay.

Dassie
Hello furry friends.
You come to smile at me.
You see a tear
Hang in my eye
“Pray disappear,”
I hear you cry.

But I must leave.
The porridge calls
And tea so cold
Will never go.

But blessed be you
For coming by.
You heard me sob.
You heard me cry.
I needed a friend
And this you knew.

The morning starts.
I say goodbye,
But I’ll hold you dear
For the silent hug of mine.

Go well.
Stay well.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Six

To have and to hold;
  -you were always mine and true


For better or for worse;
   -lovers spats seemed never to reach "I've had enough". That's got to be better...


For richer or for poorer;
   -never rich, but never poor. You lived life with an eye to our future wealth


In sickness and in health;
   -keeping my end of the bargain cost me much,
         but I would do it again in a heartbeat despite sickness


To love and to cherish from this day forward;
   -so many memories that I hold fast that the word love does not give justice to


Till death do us part.
   -That's where they got it wrong. 
       Death does not part us, aside from in body. 
          Your soul watches over me; I feel its presence eternal.
             Your gifts keep on giving with little hands that grow daily
                 Long, long after we both are no more than dust in the wind 
                    the glow that we formed will still fill the ethers with loving grace


Happy Anniversary to you my dear sweet man. My road it wavers, and yet carries on. Your footprints hover inches above mine and I am blessed. Love eternal to you~


Wednesday, March 10, 2010

I Remember...

Memories:

 *Splashing in huge puddles at the side of the road as we walked home from school in spring/summer. We would yell to the passing cars to "speed up" and "splash us! splash us!" laughing madly every time we got soaked to the skin. Truly a dirty little experience and dirty little memory, but a smile drifts in...

*The smell of fresh bread baking in Grandma's kitchen was enough to make any soul salivate, with little hands and faces plastered to the oven door to watch the golden goodness rise to its full glory. Any leftover dough (and Grandma always made sure there was a little left over for her googly-eyed Grandkids) was transformed into fried treats sprinkled with sugar. We thought we had died and gone to heaven...

*Staring up into my Mother's spent face as she explained that my Father had died. Our vigil was over. This was my time to say goodbye, before life moved on. Standing at the side of the bed I stared. My five year-old brain did not have the words to say a thing. I stared and stared. Life moved on...

*Sitting in the back of a speeding big rig in nowhere Namibia wondering what had possessed me to think that hitch-hiking was okay, and safe, and a good idea? Screaming to my guardian angels to please, please, PLEASE help me out of this one. "One day I would grow up and realize that I wasn't indestructible and if I could just get this little favour and end up outside of this truck in one piece mentally and physically, I would Learn!" One scary lesson to learn from those said angels. Thank you

*Having wave after wave of the worst pain I had ever experienced slam into me. Looking up into my husband's eyes knowing that just his presence alone was enough for me to keep going. Wanting release, but not wanting to give up for me and for the baby inside of me. The blessed bundle ratcheting my pelvis into a position it felt appropriate regardless of my physiology. Knowing that I could do it, despite everything my body tried to connive me into. And doing it. Breathing with wide-open eyes as the miracle of life was bestowed upon me. A shared moment of love with this man. This man that I had walked with, talked with and now created with. We made life eternal in the form of a tiny human girl. My touch with perfection and the pristine pool of pure love.

*Opening up the newspaper and seeing my face and my name perched beside an article written by my hand. Knowing that I had received my five minutes of fame by reaching out to touch the world with a picture that I could share of me to whomever was willing to read. And knowing that people read, cared and liked what I had to offer, even going so far as a brief TV time slot. Pride and fame are mine...

*Taking my two girls by hand and walking with them into the future. Approaching the building that represents their start of tomorrow, their independence. Breathing smiles into me and my progeny. We have been one. Love binds us together. Trust must let me walk beside them for a distance
    and then wave goodbye...


School starts September.
Change comes eternal for me and you
Never stand in way

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Love

   Grief. What does it mean to me today? It has been a close personal friend of mine over the last two years, but has graced me with its presence at other points in my life as well. Today, it is a badge I can say I have worn with ... not pride. No. I can say I survived with pride. Or I am surviving. The new year brings with it some old familiar twists in my life. Spasms that are not pleasant, but can anticipate, therefore hopefully not be as bad. Last year near this time, I was beginning to anticipate an upcoming stress. I tried to head it off by becoming busy, but only succeeded in flailing and floundering. The stress I knew about piled on "should's" by the yard, but it was an anniversary that I had not anticipated that threatened to wash me away. I tried to face expectations, but just managed to pile them over top of me until I could not breathe. I was trying to take on life and I was not ready. I had been handling all the life I could, and the should I threw at myself pushed me to the edge. I broke, but I reached out a hand and grabbed onto whatever lifeline I could. I was told to be kind. I was offered prayers of peace. I was reminded that this was grief. The wave would recede. I would survive. It was bad, but it was a lesson. Next time, perhaps I could anticipate better. Reach out for help. Not feel alone. There are people there.
   Many have walked through the dark tunnel of grief. It is something we do not talk about. We should. I am constantly surprised by how hard this journey is. Many, many, many moons ago I remember sitting in Wellspring (a wonderful Cancer support centre) after a yoga class. It was my first yoga session after Brad died. A few ladies convinced me to join them for tea after class, as they could see I was upset. They asked me what my story was. I felt sick. It was not my "story"! It was my life! It was raw and more than I could bear. Indeed, it has turned into my story to tell though. It has been a painful story and it is not over yet. I do not have so much pain any more, but I still struggle with who I am and where I am going. This, I am learning, is a common thread though. Sharing my experiences helps me. It not only helps me though. I know my sharing has given others hope and strength where little has been. No one can make all the pain go away. You must walk your path. You must pick up and look at everything along the path of your grief. It is hard work. It takes a long time. Relationships are hard work though and they take time to establish as well. It should not be surprising that grief can cause suffering for so long. We have lost someone that means something to us. One person can fill so many parts of our life. That means that we need to wade through, find all those pieces, accept and mourn every single one of those pieces we have lost. It is a lot of work. It hurts, but for me it has brought great love.
   So why this path today? Is it because I had dinner with my Aunt who is suffering through her own loss? Is it because an anticipated stressor is coming back to the table again? Or is it my little notebook that travelled in my purse last year catching snippets of my life on the fly, that fell across my table this morning and revealed pieces of painful me last year? Or is it just because this is who I am? Grief has touched me. It is a part of me and always will be. I will not always be actively grieving, but my grief will be there forever. I grieve my father, who I could have been, my husband, who we were supposed to be and what we were supposed to have and I grieve the loss of me and who I was. There is a new me that I work on every day. Some days it is not hard. Many days were. Today I reflect.

Monday, December 28, 2009

Holiday pause

   I have finally had a chance to read a few blogs that I have not had a chance to peruse over the hectic holidays. It is almost like not having time for dear friends or myself. I love getting together with family, but I have a kinship with the people that let me into their lives via a blog. The blogs I read inspire me to be creative, touch me in a spiritual manner, help me appreciate nature, bring forth the camaraderie of Motherhood and friendship. Blog-world has become a new friend in my life and I am happy when I get to see someone with a new post or new pictures to share or I discover someone new that makes me laugh. That kinship was unexpected when someone suggested writing a blog back in the spring. All I wanted was to write, perhaps make some money at it if I was lucky. Well, I have made no money, but I have found a voice. I rather enjoy the words that flow out of me. They are not always awe-inspiring, but I know that they do get read by the occasional person. That is kind of cool. I like it.
   My thoughts originally were going to be about the sadness that people feel at this time of year. So many gather together and feast and frolic. When a face is missing around the table we have pause. Their presence is felt and missed. We certainly have a few seats missing around our festive feasts. No one can replace my Bradley that was in charge of "flipping the bird" at Leslie's and of course the carving of said bird afterwards. No offence Jamie, but you don't hold a candle to him in my books. I almost grabbed the knife myself, as I often feel Brad's presence within me, but I let it go and faded into another room. Brad's spirit lives on and he was seen in my mind's eye in all the spaces where I had seen him before. You are not forgotten Brad and never will be.
   My cousin was also active in thoughts at her second Christmas visiting in spirit, but not body. I slept in her room and had her smiling face looking over me and  filling my dreams. Her parents still have tears in their eyes, but at the back of them if you look. It is hard to not see the cherished ones that we love and will love forever. They are still at our elbows and in our hearts. I left a small bottle of rye for my hubby and told him to "rip it up and give em hell" on Christmas Eve. I can smile at him now, but feel for the friends that I have that are going through their first Christmas without their significant others. A coffee date a few days before Christmas with a friend that lost his common-law wife a few months ago reminded me to be kind over the holidays. Life is precious and brief. His eyes still hold disbelief of what his life looks like and feels like. It is not right or fair, but it is what is meant to be for whatever reason. Peace will come eventually, but it takes time, patience and love.
   My tears came when I had the pleasure to see a friend in town for the holidays. The holidays always speed up into a chaotic whirlwind. I was able to meet my girlfriend for dinner and a movie and was thrilled to see her smiling face. We openly held hands and embraced constantly. She is a dear friend that touched my soul with her unquestioning love and the support she offered while my husband was sick and dying. She can laugh and be crude one moment and drop everything to hold my hand so I can cry the next. When she moved away after my husband died I was devastated and mourn her loss still. She is a pure soul. I held her with tears streaming down my checks as we parted in the parking lot of a movie theatre. She is still alive and still a friend, but our time has changed. Our brief window with which to visit highlighted for both of us the sometimes cruel passing of time. We held each other and missed each other as our eyes feasted for the lean times that we know lie ahead. That is the mystery of Christmas that brings the smiles and feeds the sorrows. We rejoice for what we have and remiss for what we have lost.
   So I close with a cheers to friends and family no longer with us, but also with love and peace offered to the friends that I still have. May you find your peace  and love my blogging friends and thank you for letting me into your lives.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Bad days help us appreciate the good days

Thanks for the inspiration Corrie. I need this medicine myself today. I am sad, because the lady I was gardening for died last night. She let me into her life and I let them into mine. I have a right to be sad. It is not nice to lose someone. What I have to remind myself of is that this loss is not my loss. No that is not right. I am losing a part of my life, but I do not have to take on the pain of Murray's loss. His life is the loss of spouse to start and it gets much bigger from there. I feel his pain, as I have walked in similar shoes. These are not my shoes today though. They just remind me of my own journey and I remember how painful that time period was. I am not there though. I have so much compassion and empathy, but I have to be able to give space for my own heart to be strong and sure in offering someone else support in grief.I can be sad, but I do not have to relive my worst moments. That is not necessary or helpful at the moment. So here is my words of wisdom to a friend today, that I will listen to again myself.

"We all have our bad days. We all have our issues. They are our issues and are important to us. Allow yourself a bad day and be okay with that. We don't allow ourselves to have down days, whether they are deserved or not. If where you are at right now sucks "It SUCKS!". Don't compare it to anyone else's. Legitimize your own life and your own feelings. You are valid and they are valid. You don't have to have the worst day of anyone ever, you just have to allow that you are not at your best. It is hard to do, but you can feel better for allowing yourself to be. You only have one life to live and it is your life, not anyone else's. Let yourself live it.

I think I might have to CC this to my blog. And listen to my words myself..."

Monday, October 5, 2009

The Circle of Life

The weather has been pretty wet and, dare I say it, crappy the last couple of weeks. We have had more rain than sun. It is hard on the psyche. It is also hard on time management when you have outside chores to do. Last week the only day without rain in these parts was Thursday, so I hurredly planted some bulbs for Brad. I then ran home and cut the grass in my yard, hoping that was the last time. The whole while I was looking at the calendar trying to figure out when I was going to get out to Michelle's house. The weather did not co-operate. The weekend broke and with kids in tow I cannot garden at my house, let alone someone else's.

So today dawned gray, but not raining. As I lay in bed flip-flopping last night I thought about calling Michelle first thing in the morning to head to her house in the morning. I dropped off the girls and the vehicle veered towards downtown. A quick stop at Corner Furniture to check for bed hardware ended up seeing me drive all the way across town to Lee Valley, then Home Depot for appropriate screws. All the while no rain. I arrived home at lunch, figured it was too late to go over to Michelle's, so made soup out of the pumpkin that I had cut up in the fridge. I was supposed to make the soup the day before, but got waylaid by a trip out to O'Sheas with Paul and Jordan. Perhaps a wrong call there, as when I went to turn the cucumbers that I bought Saturday afternoon into pickles this afternoon, I found them rotting! Ack. So, instead of calling Michelle to make a date for gardening tomorrow, I ended up running back out to Thomas Brothers (farmers market) to get more cucmbers, only to find them done for the season. A lot of running, for naught.

I finally slowed down enough to pick up T and R from daycare with a quick gab in to David. T's suggestion of pizza for dinner was well received, so "Monsters Inc" entertained us while we dined gourmet style. At 7:30 I thought to call Michelle about tomorrow. The phone rang and rang and was finally picked up by Michelle's sister. I knew it wasn't her, but asked anyway. I knew that it was bad, as soon as she said who it was. She said "they" figure Michelle will not make it through the night. Stop

When I got the idea of gardening for people in my head, I knew it could be like this. Or did I? I helped a woman out during her last days. She loved her garden and I just wanted her to still be able to love it, despite not having the strength to give it attention herself. I am so sad right now though. Not that I knew Michelle that well. I did not know her or Murray at all before knocking on their door a month and a half ago. It is such a difficult time of life though. Death is a very hard process. My heart aches for Murray. Michelle was such a strong and positive lady. I am honoured to have met her and been allowed to get to know even a little bit of her. Goodbye Michelle. Be at peace.

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