Signs of Support

     Tomorrow marks the 8th anniversary of Michael's death. Rather than taking flowers to Boal Memorial on the actual date, as I have in the past, this year I decided ahead of time that I would go this morning - a mental health choice that I felt would make tomorrow a little easier and more uplifting.
     A few weeks ago, a friend of mine invited me to participate in a community fundraiser - an afternoon Scrabble Tournament taking place on March 7th to raise money for grandmothers in Africa. My husband and I play Scrabble most evenings so I knew it could be an enjoyable event and said "yes", grateful for the distraction, the opportunity to support a good cause, and knowing I would have the support of this friend on a trigger day, another mother who lives with the loss of a child. Later this month will mark seven years since her adult daughter's accidental death.
     This morning, my plan was to walk my younger daughter's chocolate lab Barrett (related to Diesel and born four days before the fatal accident involving Mike, Kelly and Diesel), along the river for about an hour, then take him with me to Boal, which would be his first time there.  After getting into my car (which was parked in the carport), I reached over to close my door when I noticed one small feather lying on the ground nearby. Smiling to myself, I reached down and picked it up, then placed it on the seat beside me - thankful for this little sign.
     After fetching Barrett, I drove to Bridgeman Park, located beside Lynn Creek. Due to the ongoing construction in the area, I had not been there since last spring but today, it felt like the right place to go. I parked the car, leashed up the dog and let him out. He instantly beelined it to a fence post about 30 metres away, to take a pee. As I stood there waiting for him, I looked up at the post and could hardly believe my eyes -  a small, pink heart resting near the top! Obviously, the perfect spot for our walk together today.
     After our river walk, we visited Boal, then after dropping him off, I headed home. Later, I picked up my granddaughter after school and brought her back to my house. She immediately noticed the feather I had now placed on my kitchen counter and told me she had found one that looked exactly the same. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out a twin feather. When I asked her about it, she told me she had found it while walking along Mosquito Creek during her class field trip this morning, put it into her pocket until she got back to school, then into her knapsack for safekeeping! The signs and loving energy of the day filled my well, placing me in good stead for tomorrow.
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Priceless Plastic Heart

     And so, the Christmas festivities begin. Just as dusk was falling late yesterday afternoon, our family met up in the forest at Boal Memorial. Decorating the little tree in front of Mike and Kelly's plaques is always a poignant event. The half-moon shining down onto the snow-covered ground added an element of magic to the setting. Gazing upon the faces of my young grandchildren, both mesmerized by the glowing candles and sing-along, my heart was simultaneously filled with a profound love for these two, along with a deep aching for my son. For me, Christmas without him has not become any easier. 
     Our family then made our way back to our younger daughter's home, for a delicious home-cooked meal, where she had laid out a novelty Christmas cracker at each place setting. Crackers were never part of our traditional German festivities, but it certainly was a fun addition to this dinner. After the eight crackers were popped, colourful paper crowns were donned, and tiny gifts discovered, including puzzles, jokes, and decorations. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that my prize was a small, plastic, heart-shaped frame. The only one in our group. An incredibly precious sign of the season.
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No Ordinary Weekend

     









     A recent sunny Whistler weekend getaway was filled with incredible moments of synchronicity. The only pre-planned part of the trip was doing tarot readings at a mountaintop event, on the Friday evening. My husband and I had decided to make a weekend of it, booking in at the RV park. With so much to offer, the location supported an effortless flow between being active (biking the valley trail, hiking around Lost Lake, walking to the village) and enjoying restful pastimes (impromptu riverside picnic, brunch on a lakeside patio, Scrabble in the shade). 
     Saturday evening, during an after-dinner stroll through the village, I heard my name called and turned to see one of my cousins seated with someone on a nearby restaurant patio. He lives a few hours away, and we had not seen each other for three years. After a round of hugs and getting introduced to his girlfriend, we took them up on their offer to join them for a drink. We discovered that just minutes before we were spotted, a table had been freed up on the patio, and his girlfriend had requested they move out there, instead of remaining at their inside table. They had arrived at the resort earlier that evening and were leaving shortly after noon the next day. Small window of time to run into them. And as it turned out, Sunday morning our paths crossed again - while leaving the farmer's market, we bumped into them just as they were heading over to check it out. Another short conversation and more hugs.
     Sunday afternoon, my husband and I decided to wander down to one of several coffee shops in the area. Being the 7th of the month, I was feeling a little melancholy, with Michael in my thoughts even more than usual. It would be one of the very rare times when I would not be taking flowers to Boal Memorial on this date. My husband had been walking a few steps ahead of me and was waiting on a bench near the cafe. Sitting down beside, I was about to ask him what he'd like to order when I noticed a memorial plaque on the backrest, and reading the inscription, realized it was in honour of a young man who had lived in Whistler, and died just over a year ago, at age twenty-four. Through a mutual friend, I met his mother once, shortly after her son's death, and we had shared our experiences regarding the deaths of our sons, including reference to the metaphysical realm. What were the chances? Of all the seating available in Whistler, this was the ideal place for us to be on this day. 
     After coffee, it was time to head home. En route, we stopped in Squamish to purchase some bike accessories, and as I was leaving that particular aisle, I thought about our friends who live there, a couple we haven't seen for a few months due to his out-of-province work commitments. I fleetingly wondered what the chances were of running into them here in this big box store but promptly dismissed the notion since it was late Sunday afternoon and thought that if they had needed any items here, they would probably have done so earlier in the day. Then seconds later, as I turned the corner, there they were, smack dab in the middle of the store, and they ended up inviting us up to their place for a short visit. They too happen to live with the loss of a twenty-five year old son. Perfect timing.
     An astounding run of closely timed, out-of-the-blue experiences ... the Universe certainly does know how to make a great impression!
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Photo credit: www.whistler.com

Candles Lighting the Way

This morning, I pulled out the mini Christmas tree and ornaments in preparation for tomorrow's family visit to Boal. It wasn't until I was out walking in the canyon, a short time later, that the emotions started swirling. I am thankful for this tradition we originally created to honour my mother at the cemetery, then moved to Boal after Michael and Kelly died. I know there will be some tears, that's a given, but there will also be a few laughs. And of course, there will be candles. Tiny, white ones clipped to the branches. Anyone who knows me well, knows this - I love candles. Surrounding myself with them is one of my favourite aspects of this season. There is something so pure and uplifting about candlelight. Earlier this week, while wandering through a spectacular garden light display, my husband and I paused to light two candles for Michael and Kelly, infuse them with good wishes, and place them side by side on a ledge in the rock grotto.  This Sunday evening, we'll be observing Winter Solstice with candles during the Lantern Festival in our city's classical Chinese Garden.  And over these next few days, when I recognize the need for additional grounding, a simple candle meditation will be in order.  Sitting cross-legged before a candle and with soft gaze, focussing on the flame. Visualizing the light making its way into my third eye and seeing the beam flow directly into my heart. Appreciating all the candles lighting the way, inside and out.

Photo credit: Two Wings

Sign of the Season

While preparing for our annual tree-decorating event at Boal Memorial, I paused by the front window this morning and gazed out over the frost-covered lawn.  Dry days, with unusually cold temperatures, has resulted in thick frost, creating an illusion of snow.  I stood there, the intense duality within me threatening to overwhelm - so much to be grateful for existing alongside deep sadness due to loss.  While breathing slowly and deeply into the scene before me, I became aware of one tiny snowflake drifting down.  Any smaller, and it would have been invisible to the naked eye.  A few moments later, another one appeared, followed by a third some seconds after that.  This delicate show continued for a short time - the tiniest of snowflakes floating down one by one, all well spaced apart.  And then, the display was over.  The first snowflakes of the year.  So subtle.  Easily overlooked, without any accumulation. Their appearance, however, was not lost on me.  On this significant day, it was not feathers that made me smile, but rather, a beautiful sign of the season. 

Precious Days

Exhausted and content, I reflect on another precious day spent with my fourteen month old granddaughter.  Once a week, she and I enjoy an entire day together - just us two.  We have the luxury of being in the moment - no schedule, nothing that must get done.  We observe the birds descending onto the backyard feeders, attempting to mimic their songs.  We stroll to the park for a ride on the swing, stopping to smell flowers and touch leaves on the trees along the way.  We visit Boal Memorial, blowing kisses to Uncle Mike and Kelly.  We pick salmonberries, huckleberries, and strawberries, delighting in them all.  We snuggle up on the couch, reading books from her special cupboard in the den.  We get soaked during water play, with cups and a filled tub on the grass, pausing to watch the occasional helicopter fly overhead.  We wander down to the suspension bridge, crossing it hand in hand, 70 metres above the river - she, at times, stopping to dance.  So sweet, so lovable, so alive - my heart nearly bursting in her presence.

Reconnecting

Attending a funeral at Boal Memorial last Tuesday.  For the mother of one of Mike and Kelly's good friends.  First time back in that chapel since Michael's service.  So many familiar faces.  Seeing Kelly's family, along with numerous young men and women experiencing that great loss last year.  Personally finding great comfort in reconnecting with them all.  Despite the sad circumstances.  Then later, flowers in hand, walking up the pathway into the forest alone.  Towards the two plaques positioned side by side on the wall.  Surprised and thoroughly heartened by the sight of so many of Kelly and Mike's friends already there. Followed by many more joining in.  Recounting stories.  Some tears. And laughter.  Punctuated by quiet reflection.  All acutely feeling loss. Then one young woman reaching down to the ground.  Picking up a penny lying beside a pot of flowers.  Directly in front of the plaques. Holding up the coin to show me.  The two of us shaking our heads in amazement.  Sharing a smile.  Recognizing and appreciating the ongoing marvels.

Thirteen Months

Thirteen months today.  Spending this morning working on the 2nd Annual Mike Gibson Golf Tournament to be held in early June.  Then heading over to Boal Memorial to pay my respects.  His dad golfing with friends on this beautiful sunny day.  Wearing a sweater that belonged his son.  Finding a measure of comfort in that.  

Gathering at the Tree

This coming Sunday.  Our daughters, son-in-laws, my husband and I meeting up.  Decorating a mini Christmas tree together.  Starting this annual tradition at Oma's graveside ten Christmases ago.  Symbolically sharing the holidays with someone we loved.  Lighting candles clipped to the branches.  Singing German carols.  Recounting memories. Moving the occasion to Boal Memorial this year.  Using the same tree Michael helped decorate last December.  Adding some new ornaments for our brother and son.  Kelly and Diesel too.  Knowing my mother will happily meet us there.  All gathering together.