Sign of Summer

It felt closer to winter than summer while walking in this cool rainy weather.  And then I spotted them.  The salmonberries had arrived.  A welcomed sign of the season since childhood.  Those glorious orbs of orange and red adorning the bushes along the path.  A little later this year, and a little less sweet but there they were.  Some for me, a few for the dog, the rest for the bears.  As a child, picking these berries in the forests of my neighbourhood always brought such delight.  Thankfully, that joy of such a simple pastime has remained.

Nature's Classroom

Gazing out at that huge healthy cottonwood last weekend, I again reflected upon its one large dead branch.  Located midway up the trunk, it has held on for over ten years.  Surrounded by growth, this one has none.  Each time I return to the lake, I half expect to see that branch lying on the beach.  Not yet.  For the first few years I contemplated removing it.  An eyesore I thought.  Useless.  Too high for me to reach, it remained.  Then, I began to pay attention.  Numerous birds were using that branch.  Nourishing themselves.  Meeting up with others.  Resting.  That dead branch and the birds are a continual reminder that my view is only one view. 

3:33

What will today bring?  I have been lying awake for some time now.   Glancing over at the clock I behold 3:33.  It began last night.  That energy swirling around inside me while I was trying to fall asleep.  No caffeine or sugar to blame.  An overactive mind?  Most nights I am blessed with seven to eight hours of that altered state.  Rest.  Dream.  Rejuvenate.  Just not tonight. 

With Loving Support

There are moments when I forget that this is not forever.  Those times weigh heavy.  The reality is that I have a finite number of days here in this particular incarnation.  One day I too will return to existing in wholly spirit form.  Remembering this lightens my load.  Throughout the day I see my son smiling down with immense patience and compassion.  Pure love emanating from his being.  From his vantage point he understands how difficult this all is.  He also knows it must be so.  I know this too.  As his mother I had to stand by and watch him fall while he learned to walk.  I could not protect him from that pain.  He now takes his turn to lovingly support me while I stumble along.  And I thank him from the bottom of my heart.

Taking a Mulligan

Yesterday, someone I love said something that left me feeling hurt and confused.  That state was still with me as I left for my run this morning.  When I returned, it was with more clarity and a readiness to talk.  After some discussion, those feelings dissipated but we were still without a clear resolution.  Then with great sincerity, the person asked for a mulligan.  A "do over" in golf terms.  I burst into laughter and agreed.  A unique solution obtained by applying humour with care.

Really?

I recently had a heartfelt conversation with someone very close to Kelly.  He spoke about the bewilderment he often feels when reflecting upon the fact that she is gone.  I understand.  He commented that occasionally he will look over at his roommate, tilt his head and exclaim, "Really?".  One little word representing the mind-boggling thought - Did all that craziness actually happen?  Then laughter.  Again, I understand.  Head tilt.  Really?  Laughter.  A confused kind of laughter.  Releasing stress.  Helping the body cope while the brain keeps trying to make sense of something that makes no sense.  

Summer Solstice Date

Perched on the back of the motorcycle, relishing that warm breeze in a carefree state of mind.  Over the bridge, through the park, alongside the ocean.  Celebrating this long awaited summer solstice together.  Fish and chips on the beach.  Ice cream on a patio.  Sights and sounds of the season everywhere.  Returning home feeling lighter and freer.  A date that nourished my soul. 

Not Too Soon

"Is it not too soon?"  "In my culture, the bereaved do not attend celebrations for a year." "This would be considered disrespectful in my family." These some of the comments I heard during the time leading up to the memorial golf tournament.  I had not even considered that concern when we began planning a few weeks after the accident.  These remarks were reminders that the "rules" for grieving and mourning are very diverse.  In some cultures the immediate family members wear black for an extended period of time.  In others, mourning attire is white.  Not black and white.  Black or white.  Or red, yellow, purple.  As with most rituals and traditions, there is no universal "right" or "wrong".  As for me, I will continue to make my choices based on what resonates within.  Judging from the feedback, that event resulted in so many experiencing some solace, moments of happiness, and a slight lessening of the pain.  How on earth would it have been more "proper" to wait a year or more?

Choosing to Get Energized

Grey skies. Low energy. Today, I am tempted to stay in my housecoat, curl up on the sofa and slip deeply into sadness.  Cut myself off from the world.  Very enticing, but what good would that do?  Instead, I will get into my workout clothes and head off to boot camp.  As a result, I will feel uplifted and energized.  I have choices.  This is what I choose today.

Father's Day

As I reflect upon this upcoming Father's Day, many thoughts come flooding in.  Gratitude for the challenging relationship between my father and I which has enabled me to learn so much.  Loving him but choosing not to spend time with him.  Our karma.  As for my husband, he and his father of 87 years keep in touch regularly, and will celebrate their relationship with a shared meal tonight.  The space that was filled with Michael will loom large as one father sits with his only son, who in turn is enduring the loss of his only son.  Sunday, golf and a BBQ where my husband will be showered with love from his living children.  Different fathers, different experiences.  All receiving love.

Michael Shares

Last night, I attended another powerful evening of mediumship at the ISA.  A good friend arrived as well and was able to share this experience with me.  About an hour in, the medium asked if she could come to me.  She mentioned that before the session started, she had overheard me saying that our family had hosted a memorial golf tournament for my son.  She then stated that he had been there with us and proceeded to share what was coming through from him. The following is what she said recorded as accurately as possible, without having taped the session.  My own observations, which I noted to myself while she was speaking, are in brackets:
He had a great sense of humour and things would come out of his mouth that made people laugh, not at him, but with him.  There was so much laughter at the celebration with some people laughing so hard that they were falling down! (absolutely)  During the golf game, many balls were lost including coloured ones, even a green one.  People did not even bother looking for them.  Apparently one ended up in a tree and you will find it some day without purposefully have to go looking for it.  There were many wild shots played out there. (Personally I lost 4 pink balls and did not spend much time looking for any of them) He was amazed by all the food we had and would have loved to have had some.  He loved to eat.  He could not believe how many people were there and was impressed that there was room for them all. (66 ) He wondered if the floor would collapse under the weight of so many people. (Bob actually reinforced the deck earlier this spring for just that reason) He was proud of the family for helping others with what has happened.  He had wanted to help others as well and was beginning to do that in his life.  He is happy that you honoured him in this way.  This tournament was the kind of thing he would have loved and enjoyed. ( I had this conversation with many people during the weekend)  By doing this you were creating memories and he had talked about making memories when he was alive. ( Bob and I specifically talked about this Sunday morning while we watched Michael's friends out on the dock rehashing the previous day) He is around you often, hears you talking to him, and knows that you hear him too. When he passed he immediately knew it was the right time to go. ( I knew that the moment I heard the news) The phrase "bass ackwards" came through.  ( I often use this play on "ass backwards" to describe crazy actions)  He knows that you are grieving, but that you are not stuck.  Once you got over the initial realization of what had happened you were able to start moving forward.  (Absolutely correct)
As my friend later commented, his words came through with playful, happy energy, infused with his sense of humour. I left feeling nurtured and uplifted. Connected and grateful. An experience chosen by few, available to all. 

Good Luck Talisman

My son was a hockey player, fan and referee.  He loved hockey, just like his Dad.  This past Christmas Kelly, an avid fan herself,  bought him a Canuck's jersey which he wore to the one game he attended with his father earlier this year.  Her energy, his energy, game energy imprinted on this garment.  This morning I removed it from the closet and draped it over the easy chair from which my husband will be watching the final Stanley Cup game.  For him and the multitude of fans out there, I hope their team wins the big one tonight.  A good luck talisman can't hurt.

Recipe for Healing

At a family lakeside cabin, mix together the following with great care:
66 friends and family
18 holes of golf
183 mulligans
1 heavily laden table of delicious food
Many helping hands
Dozens and dozens of donations
Pockets full of generosity
Add 5 tents and 1 roaring campfire.  Drizzle lightly for a few minutes and toss in 2 claps of thunder, under mainly sunny skies.  Stir with Love.  The worthwhile result is many bolstered hearts and close to $3000 raised for Canuck Place Children's Hospice.


(Update June 20th: the actual amount we raised together was $3333!)

Heartwarming Energy

Driving home from the cabin this afternoon, I reflected on my amazing weekend experience.  The power of so many who knew Michael and Kelly coming together from far and wide to support each other through shared conversation, tears, laughter, and hugs. Heaps of hugs! Reconnecting with old friends, and meeting some new ones.  I know I was not alone in feeling a deep sense of gratitude for each other while savouring that heartwarming energy we collectively created.  Same place, same time next year!

Nourished by Nature

Savouring my morning coffee in solitude on the deck at the lake.  Breathing in the calmness.  Observing the chickadee delivering sustenance to her young residing in the birdhouse hanging to my left.  Noticing the hummingbird stopping by for a sip from the feeder to my right.  Hearing a black bear investigating the cooler outside my front door.  Smiling at the deer gazing up at me from the beach below.  North, south, east and west.  Nourished by nature from every direction. Ahhhhh. 

Joy and Sadness

When my family first suggested that we host a golf tournament in Michael's memory, I had not imagined it would involve so much effort.  But then, anything worthwhile usually does.  Planning and taking care of details has always come easy to me. This time however, as I continue to cross tasks off my ever growing list, I often find myself feeling overwhelmed.  It is the emotional undercurrent of this event that is such a personal challenge.  Every action I take towards ensuring this weekend will be something his friends and family enjoy is weighed down by the knowledge that he will not actually be there playing with us. This is how closely joy and sadness can coexist.  

The Dance

I feel as if I am dancing, lightly stepping from one foot to the other. Of this world, and then not. Continually moving back and forth between my spiritual understanding and human condition.  At times, I am convinced that if I were to stop, I would fall into that deep abyss that lies in wait.  Hence, I continue to dig deeply and muster the strength I need in order to keep on dancing.

One Full Season

Three months ago today.  A quarter of a year.  One full season has now passed.  Connecting numbers and dates to whatever significance they may have in my life, some of great importance, others quite obscure.  This is what I do.  Remembering childhood friend's birthdays forty years later, recalling anniversaries of various life events, acknowledging my children's half birthdays.  It is one way to connect to all those people and experiences that help shape who I am.  Michael's first choice for jersey number for all those team sports he played was always number 13.  Just saying.   

Hole in the Wall

As my husband went about his weekly ritual of flipping through the realty listings in our community newspaper, I thought about the words "Real Estate" and had an odd yet funny thought.  My son had often mentioned that he could not see himself living on the North Shore long term since the real estate prices here were so high.  Well, now he has property, albeit a hole in the wall.  Literally.  His final resting place is in the Capilano Wall in the Boal Chapel forest.  The dictionary definition for this expression reads, "a small unpretentious out of the way place".  That, it surely is.  Michael would have been the first to appreciate the humour in this situation and as macabre as it may sound to some, I can smile at the irony that in the end, he did get a minuscule portion of North Vancouver real estate legally registered in his name. 

Missing Leg

As I sat on the examining table in my doctor's office awaiting a routine procedure, I reflected on the comment she had made a few moments before.  A mother herself, she had shared that she could not imagine what it would feel like to lose a child.  I was looking down at my legs hanging off the edge of the table when an analogy jumped into my mind.   I have two healthy legs I depend on, and hope they will be available to me for a long time.  If I were to have one amputated today, I do not know what it would feel like but there is no question that I would carry on and learn how to get around with only one leg.  People do. However, there would be very few moments in a day when I would not be thinking about that missing leg.  I imagine this would ease over time but it would never be forgotten.  

Time Alone

Spending time alone.  When my children were small, all those many years ago, I carved out precious moments during the week where I could just be with my own thoughts.  A young neighbour would babysit for an hour twice a week allowing me time for short walks in the canyon.  I relished these.  They nurtured me.  Once my children began leaving home, I was afforded much more alone time which felt luxurious.  Now however,  it has begun to feel like too much of a good thing.  Most of my time alone is filled with thoughts that revolve around the loss of Michael, Kelly and Diesel.  I am grateful to have so much time to process my new reality but am beginning to find myself desiring more opportunities for meaningful engagement of my mind elsewhere.  I never imagined that the time would come when I would feel that I had too much time alone.  Fascinating.

Perfect Morning Together

This morning, a young autistic man and I will walk the mountain side trail together.  I do not know him well but once a week we spend a few hours in each other's company, rain or shine.  He seems to enjoy our excursions which he communicates to me with his 'thumbs up' gesture.  We often include Gulliver on these walks and the three of us wander along each enjoying the outing at our own pace. My experience, his experience, and the dog's experience are all occurring in the same location at the same time. However, each of us processes it uniquely, with no one way having more value than the others.  Each one of us is having our own perfect morning together!