Newest and Most Precious Piece of Art

    The newest, and now most precious, piece of art to adorn my walls was recently gifted to me by my 13-year-old granddaughter when she arrived here for a summer visit with her family. It had been safeguarded in a cardboard tube for her flight from Spain. When she pulled it out and unrolled it before me, I was awestruck. She had drawn this beach scene using pastel and explained that from left to right, in birth order, the figures represented my three children: her mother, Auntie Kate, and Uncle Mike. And yes, those are wings on the back of his shirt. I knew that she had a talent for creating art and loved attending after-school classes but nothing could have prepared me for this incredible image. She captured so much in this scene - family, connection, nature, and love.

     A week later, she and I visited a local art shop to choose the mat and frame. When I picked up the completed piece a few days ago, I explained the significance of the picture to the staff member helping me, including the reason for the wings. Less than a minute later, while returning to my car parked right outside the shop, I noticed one beautiful, white feather lying directly in my path! It is now affixed to the glass, acting as another reminder of how strong this symbol of connection continues to be.

Perfect Pole Project

 

     For over a year now, I have been admiring the vibrant art poles livening up the garden of a neighbourhood residence, nestled alongside the forest.  I tried sourcing them online and looking for them at garden centres, to no avail. Then a few weeks ago, I mentioned the art poles to an acquaintance who lives in the area and happens to be an art teacher.  She suggested I could try making some myself using PVC piping and outdoor acrylic paints. Sounded easy enough, a fun project my granddaughter and I could play with at the cabin.  I already had the paints so all I needed now was some piping. 

     On the Saturday before our trip up, I thought about driving down to the hardware store to buy some but decided I needed a little more time to consider diameter and length I might need. My husband and I could go the following day, when we would be out and about anyway.  

     Sunday morning, over breakfast on the back patio, I mentioned the art pole project to my husband and told him about my idea of grabbing some piping later that day.  His comment, delivered very matter-of-factly: " There's a piece of it lying on the front boulevard." What? Really?  Turned out he had noticed it the day before, while mowing the lawn but left it there. Still in my housecoat, I walked around to where our driveway meets the road and sure enough, there on the northeast corner of the property lay a 3 metre length of PVP piping!  It had somehow cleared the concrete barrier separating the sidewalk from the street and landed on our grass.  Hardly believing what I was seeing, I walked over, picked it up and returned to our patio. With a sense of wonderment, I spelled it out for my husband. In all my 62 years, this was the first time I had ever thought about buying a piece of PVC piping.  And in all my 62 years, this was the first time I had ever come across a piece of PVC piping lying in my yard. For these two events to meet up here and now, was sheer perfection. And yes, we had tons of fun painting the art poles which now adorn both our cabin property, and my granddaughter's backyard.

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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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Massive Amount of Maternal Energy

     When I awoke yesterday morning, I knew it was going to be a good day. For my belated birthday gift, I would be spending time with my oldest daughter and my granddaughter at a mother/daughter brunch and attending a performance of The Nutcracker ballet. The day began with an unexpected early morning phone call from my aunt in Germany, my mother's only sibling and my last remaining close relative on my mother's side. She still lives on the property where she and my mother were born and where their mother had lived from the time she married until she died. Our infrequent communication consists of a card and perhaps one letter a year, with an occasional phone call every year or two. She was calling with Christmas greetings and to catch up on the goings on of our family.
     An hour after I hung up, I left the house, adorned with the ring and gold bracelet I had inherited from my mother (both of which had been her mother's before that). I had consciously chosen these two pieces to emphasize the multi-generational maternal connection for this particular outing. When I arrived at my daughter's home to pick up the two of them, she told me that I'd never believe what she just found and handed me my mother's drivers license! She had noticed it earlier that morning on the floor amongst the shoes in her closet (around the time I was on the phone with my aunt). It had not been there when she had sorted through the shoe area a short time ago, but now there it was - lying in wait and in full sight. She couldn't even recall ever having it in her possession and thought the only connection might have been that after my mother's death, she may have taken it with her after looking through her Oma's personal items. My mother died in 2002 and my daughter has moved at least a half dozen times since then - uncanny.
     After settling in at the restaurant, while awaiting our meal, I pulled out a tiny notebook enclosed in cello wrapping from my purse, entitled "Great Games: classic pen and pencil games for two players". I had no idea what the inside of the book looked like but the title and cover was promising. I had purchased it early last summer, thinking it might come in handy with the grandchildren while awaiting a ferry or a meal in a restaurant and had been carrying it around unopened in my purse since then. After tearing off the cello wrap, I flipped through the wordless booklet and found it was filled with three versions of patterned pages: 1) graph paper, 2) evenly spaced dots arranged vertically and horizontally, and 3) miniature hexagons. Upon seeing the dotted sheets, I instantly thought of my mother - she used to play the game of Dots and Boxes on this kind of paper with my young children but I had completely forgotten about it until now. I then showed the page to my daughter, asked her who this reminded her of, and she instantly replied, "Oma".
     After enjoying the highly entertaining Nutcracker Ballet, we made our way down to the lobby where I decided to check the time and saw it was 3:15pm. In Germany, which is nine hours ahead, it was already quarter after midnight on December 10th - my Oma's birthday!
     A massive amount of maternal energy appearing over the course of a few hours, connecting my maternal grandmother, my mother, myself, my daughter, and my granddaughter.  A truly unforgettable day in this blessed life of mine.
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Pure Bliss

Rather than celebrating just the one day, this year I enjoyed an entire week of Mother's Day celebrations. Some were pre-planned events, others, spontaneous. I was able to keep chores, errands, and shoulds to a minimum, then upped the self-care, pampering quotient. Adding in decadent activities that I would generally spread out over the course of many months, made for an incredible Mother's Day week.  

Monday: boot camp followed by an hour-long massage
Tuesday: hanging out with my precious grandkids 
Wednesday: seabus excursion with my granddaughter, exploring public art downtown and introducing her to drinking chocolate
Thursday: forest run, then lunch out with my older daughter and granddaughter, followed by a mani/pedi
Friday: rainy hike in the canyon with a neighbour, followed by a facial and a little shopping
Saturday: home yoga practice to the music of 'Jesus Christ Superstar', then dinner at the home of long time friends
Sunday: morning walk with my husband, followed by late lunch with my younger daughter

Seven luxurious days, including loads of one-on-one time with family. Pure bliss. I am extremely thankful to have enjoyed such an indulgent week. It definitely made it easier to bear the absence of my son today, and my well has been refilled.
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Michael Comes Through Loud and Clear

     

     My spontaneous decision to stop by the grand opening of a new metaphysical shop resulted in receiving a most magnificent reading. It had been years since I last had a card reading, and rather than ask for guidance on a specific issue, I opted for being open to hearing whatever came through.  
     There was no doubt that the woman I chose to sit down with had excellent abilities when she began the session with, "I see a young man ... he's in his early twenties ... he's your son." Michael came through loud and clear, reassuring me with, "Wherever you are, there I am," as well as wrapping me in a white ribbon of protection. He also communicated that we will never lose our heart connection. Michael then showed the reader some miniature trains, a reference which I instantly understood. I have strong memories of him as a child amusing himself with his Brio train set - as young as three years old, he would play with it alone in his bedroom for hours upon hours. This set is one of the few playthings I kept for my grandchildren, and last week, when my three-year-old granddaughter was over, she asked to play with the trains, so we did. At some point during that afternoon I explained to her that these had been Uncle Mike's. Now in this reading, the reader explained that Michael was telling her that he had been right there beside us, chuckling while we played.
     For forty-five minutes, she brought forth all this valuable information, as well as tidbits about other aspects of my life. I left feeling connected, supported, and inspired - extremely grateful for further evidence of the everlasting connection between life and death.
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Spirits not Dampened, Despite it Raining on our Parade

     

     I had never taken in our city's Santa Claus parade, now in its twelfth year, but a few days ago, decided it was something I wanted to experience, so despite the soggy forecast, we headed over town yesterday afternoon - my husband, granddaughter and I. Claiming a small strip along the curb with our folded picnic blanket, we sat huddled together drinking hot chocolate under a shared umbrella for over an hour. The unrelenting rain did not dampen the lively energy of the participants or spectators. Waving and singing along, we enjoyed a steady stream of marching bands, colourfully costumed dancers, elaborate floats, and festively decorated horses. After the parade wrapped up with Santa gliding by on his sleigh, we packed up our blanket and strolled back up the sidewalk hand-in-hand with wet bums, rosy cheeks and filled hearts, all agreeing it had been a wonderful outing. Perhaps next year, our grandson can forgo his nap and snuggle in with us to experience it too.
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Om with Oma

     My three-year-old granddaughter has heard the word 'yoga' often enough, and knows that I practice it, but when she overheard me talking to someone about an upcoming class, she asked, "Oma, what's yoga?" I described it simply as a relaxing form of exercise, then asked if she would like me to show her some yoga poses. She certainly did. So after her nap, we each carried a mat out into the backyard, then placed them side by side on the grass, in the shade of a maple. Settling into seated Easy pose, I encouraged her to gaze at the trees and the clouds. Together, we then flowed through Cat, Downward Dog, Child, Sphinx, Butterfly and Happy Baby, before returning to Easy pose, to finish off by chanting Om several times.  She did not miss a beat during the entire process - effortless, yet engaged, she was fully in it.  Glancing over at her occasionally during our practice, and seeing the earnest expression on her sweet face, I was tempted to take a photo, but of course, that would have taken us both out of the experience. 
     After we finished, she spontaneously wrapped herself up in her mat and informed me that she was a newborn baby. Feeling reborn through yoga - she certainly picked up on that concept.
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Showered With Riches

It has been a week of incredible abundance, with riches continually pouring in.
The gift of celebration: meeting up with classmates at our 40th high school reunion, most of whom I had not seen for ten years, or longer, engaging in heartwarming conversations.
The gift of shared meals: lunch with one side of our family, followed by Sunday dinner with my daughters and their families.
The gift of a sunny morning in Stanley Park, my granddaughter and I: experiencing the playground, beach, and Laughing Statues through the eyes of a two-year-old.  
The gift of guided meditation at ISA: gleaning powerful spiritual insights and enjoying the exchange of psychic abilities.
The gift of winning not one, but two contests I had entered: feeling lucky beyond belief.
The gift of culture: visiting several art exhibits, free of charge, all showcasing some fantastic works.
Being showered with such riches, in addition to those I am already so fortunate to experience daily, has made for a most amazing week. Sending a heartfelt thank-you to all involved!

Angels Weaving Magic

Last Monday morning, I stopped in at a local shop with my granddaughter.  A beautiful space, filled to the brim with seasonal decor, I pop in a few times a year to say hello and see what's new.  However, this time it ended up being much more than a casual visit, and one that almost didn't happen.
I had thought I was scheduled to babysit for a few hours that day, but had my dates mixed up so wasn't really needed. When my daughter asked if I wanted to take my granddaughter out regardless, I decided to do just that. Since it was the 7th of the month, I would be going to Boal Memorial, and I knew that taking her with me would make the stop much lighter and sweeter.
So now here we were, in this quaint shop, looking for an Easter ornament for her to adorn the space dedicated to Uncle Mike and Kelly. The two of us were admiring all the tiny figurines and making our way to the back room, when the shopkeeper appeared from around the corner.  She stopped, placed her hand on my arm and whispered, "What an amazing coincidence, I can't believe you're here. Of all people."  She went on to tell me that the young woman at the till (the only other customer in the store) had recently lost a son and was here purchasing items for the child's memorial service.  When I asked if I could speak to her, we were introduced, and this young mother, her five-year-old son at her side, explained that her three-year-old with leukemia had died at Canuck Place Children's Hospice.  After a big hug, we spoke a little about her situation, touched on the glass hearts she was buying and our family's affiliation with that hospice. Then, as I turned to leave, she mentioned that she doesn't even live in this area and had no idea why she had chosen this place.  The shopkeeper and I exchanged meaningful glances - we both knew this is was no accident.
There have been countless occasions of just such "coincidences" in this shop, including the circumstances around the tiny bird figurine that was gifted to our family a few days after Michael's death. Clearly, angels work here, weaving their magic, offering love and support in the most magnificent ways.

Extra Measure of Care

Is there something in the stars, or just poor judgement? Within the past few days, I have witnessed several, serious incidents of driver inattention, all occurring within a short radius of my home. Somewhat unnerving, to say the least. Thankfully, none resulted in fatalities.  

Last Saturday, while walking on the sidewalk near a busy intersection, I watched a car blow right through a red light. Luckily, no one was hit. Moments later, at the very same light, a vehicle pulled out to make a right turn on a red, without any regard for the traffic proceeding through on the green. Numerous drivers were forced to slam on their brakes in order to avoid an accident. Fortunately, the pedestrians had already crossed.  

On Tuesday, while driving along an on-ramp to the highway, heading to the library with my granddaughter, I saw a car spinning out two lanes over, then hitting the median, before it eventually stopped. When I glanced ahead, I realized that the driver was reacting to the pickup truck that had just come to a halt, a short distance ahead in that same lane, facing the wrong way.  (Coincidentally, a couple of weeks earlier, within spitting distance of this spot, I came upon a three-car accident that had just occurred, due to a drunk driver travelling the wrong way.) 

Then today, my older daughter, with baby in tow, was driving down a main thoroughfare when a car pulled out from an alley, hitting my daughter's vehicle. No one was hurt, thank heaven.  

Please let us all take an extra measure of care when driving.  We all want our loved ones to arrive home safely.  Believe me, no one wants to experience the alternative.

Angelic Art

With my granddaughter happily seated in her stroller, the two of us headed out to explore the neighbourhood yesterday morning.  We shared a muffin at a café, stopped at the library, chatted with shopkeepers, and played at the park.  We then returned to my home for lunch, after which, it was time for her nap.  I knew she was tired but instead of resting, she cried in bed for quite some time.  I finally went in, picked her up, and took her into my living room so that we could quietly cuddle together.  We settled into an easy chair and observed the backyard scene of birds and squirrels going about their day.  Within minutes, she was sound asleep.  
She would need at least half an hour, if not longer, to refresh herself for the second half of her day so I decided I would remain seated for as long as she needed, holding her comfortably on my lap.  Since there were no distractions within reach, I embraced the opportunity to just be.  Taking in the perfection of this little being, breathing in her essence, feeling our hearts beat together, I was well aware of how precious this time was.  The sun streaming through the glass wall behind us served to heighten the experience, warming us both, and casting a glow on her fine, blond curls.  
While marvelling at the beauty surrounding me, I noticed a bright, colourful spot on the end of one of her strands of hair.  I gently ran my fingers along it, thinking perhaps I would find a loose thread or a fleck of who knew what.  After repeated attempts to remove it, the spot remained.  Perplexed, I picked up my reading glasses and found myself staring at a magnificent image rivalling the splendour of stained glass windows found in grand cathedrals.  Right at the tip of this strand of hair was a round, highly detailed, miniature work of art -  as if an angel, using the finest tools, had drawn intricate lines of design within design, then filled in the spaces with jewel tones.  There were tiny circles, triangles, and squares, overlapping in places, embellished with various designs and patterns.  The vision before me defied explanation but nevertheless, there it was.  I did not need to know how or why in order to treasure the magic of this moment.  Forty minutes later my granddaughter awoke with a smile on her face - she had had a much needed nap, and I had been blessed with another exquisite experience.

Cartwheels ... Just Because

While walking along the seawall, I noticed a young bikini-clad woman performing a cartwheel on the beach.  This reminded me of an old photo taken at another local beach where my toddler daughter is cartwheeling naked on the sand.  A simple pleasure, done ... just because.  I got to thinking - when had I last executed a cartwheel?  How old was I?  Most likely in my twenties, three decades ago.  Where was I and who was I with?  What if on that day, someone had said, "Vera, this is the last time you will experience the joy of doing a cartwheel." Would I have laughed at the absurdity of that statement?  Would I have thought the person crazy?  Would I have then made a conscious effort to continue incorporating cartwheels into my life?  As I continued walking, I decided that another cartwheel was long overdue.  Arriving home, I placed my hands firmly on the grass, then swung my legs up and over.  It was not very graceful but it was a cartwheel nonetheless.  I am sure that my granddaughter will happily practise with me.

It Never Gets Old

On a day like today, I feel as though I am trudging through deep mud in lead boots.  Trying to pull myself up by my bootstraps with minimal success.  Despite the fantastic weather, plentiful granddaughter time, and phone call from a close friend.  Despite creating a mental gratitude list, planning an upcoming family dinner, and going for a brisk walk along the ocean with my husband. Filled with penetrating sadness, I feel fragile, missing my son acutely. On the verge of tears much of the day.  Full moon energy or just because?  Thankfully, days like today are not the norm, and tomorrow awaits.  "One day at a time" -  it never gets old. 

Give and Take

Yesterday, I was fortunate to have numerous meaningful experiences with individuals willing to genuinely engage, resulting in powerful flows of give and take.  First off, a morning meeting with a fellow book club member to discuss minor changes to my book.  That was followed by coffee and a heart-to-heart with a young friend going through a very difficult time.  Later, an appointment with a business acquaintance to enquire about his product.  That led to further conversation wherein we discovered several shared connections and similarities, including both of us losing a son.  Stopping in for an impromptu playtime with my granddaughter before returning home for a three hour phone session with my best friend to go over final edits.  Thankfully, none of these experiences were rushed or shoehorned in, allowing adequate time for total immersion in each and every moment.  Rather than merely showing up, each one of us brought our best self to the experience, resulting in deeper connection.  Truly magnificent.

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.

First Birthday

Dearest Granddaughter,
Later today we will be celebrating your first birthday, which falls tomorrow.  I have baked you a carrot cake; I cannot remember the last time I made one.  What I do know is that it was an obvious choice given that I had baked this same kind for your mother on her first birthday too.
What you have shown me about yourself thus far:
You give freely of your kisses - to stuffed animals, pictures in books, friends and family.
Your entertaining facial expressions are an ongoing source of joy and laughter.
You enjoy eating, moving your body to music, and reading "Pat the Bunny".
You are not keen on cats nor the feel of grass under your feet.
You are confident and curious, partnered with a healthy dose of cautiousness.
You have a wonderful sense of humour.
You are beautiful.

As you grow older, there may be times when you forget how fabulous you are.  I hope not.  However, if you do, you can read this birthday letter to help remind you of your inherent beauty and worth.  During this first year you have brought a great gift to our entire family, just by being you.

Thank you for being born.

Love and kisses,
Oma

Holding the Pieces Together

Over the past few weeks, as I occasionally considered the approaching second anniversary of Michael's death, I noticed that my feelings of dread were not as overwhelming as they were last year, and for that I was grateful.  Then suddenly, this morning, I hit the emotional wall.  I had set aside time to unpack a few more boxes and clean the house in preparation for our family dinner tomorrow.  I was missing him terribly, so during the housework, I decided to blast the music that had played at his service.  I had not heard this CD for the better part of a year.  A few songs in, over the noisy vacuum cleaner, I was startled by a shattering noise.  When I looked over to where the sound had come from, I saw one of the glass candle holders from the top shelf lying broken on the floor, reduced to shattered fragments.  It had been one of a matching pair given to me a few months after the tragedy - one honouring Michael and the other for Kelly.  I picked up the remains of the base, and even before I turned it over to check the initial on the bottom, I knew it would be an M.  That is when the floodgates opened. When I tried to make sense of what had happened, I realized that the music speaker was on a lower shelf and the vibration must have shaken the one candle holder off.  Was it an accident or something more?  It was definitely a reflection of the shattered feelings I was experiencing. Tomorrow I plan on going to yoga, then babysitting my granddaughter, followed by spending time with my family.  This will all contribute in helping to hold my pieces together.

Gift of Happiness

Taking advantage of the dry weather yesterday afternoon, my daughters, granddaughter, and I, headed over to the outdoor German Christmas Market.  Bundled up against the cold, warm beverages in hand, we wandered from stall to stall, appreciating the European wares, festive decorations, and delicious fare.  While holding the baby, I watched my daughters conferring with each other over possible stocking stuffers for their husbands, and felt deeply connected to my maternal lineage, both present and past.  Many years ago, as a young mother, I had visited a similar market in Germany, with my mother and her sister.  Here, as the Oma, out with my daughters and granddaughter, I recognized that the cultural and hereditary connections of women in my family were very much alive.  After saying our goodbyes, I arrived home, and while unpacking the white dove I had purchased for my tree, I was aware that every cell in my body felt fully activated.  It had been quite some time since I felt this way, and as I searched for the word to best describe this state, it eventually dawned on me: Happiness.  A simple outing, resulting in a cherished gift, that serves to sustain me today.    

A Hummingbird's Gifts

December 6th.  This date eliciting happy childhood memories of annual Nikolaus celebrations, together with other German speaking families. Today, unpacking Christmas boxes, while holding my granddaughter in my arms.  Sorting through countless ornaments and decorations.  Coming across my son's stocking.  Wondering what I might do with it. Something or nothing?  Trying to keep the anxiety at bay.  Focusing on the beauty in my life.  Then, glancing out the kitchen window.  Noticing a precious hummingbird landing on the nearby feeder.  These exquisite birds symbolizing so much.  Incorporated into legends and myths throughout the Americas.  When in flight, wingtips tracing out the infinity sign.  Messengers between worlds, representing immortality. Bringing uplifting energies of hope, joy, healing, and love.  This tiny creature filling my heart, and nourishing my spirit.   Sharing treasured gifts by its mere presence.