Seven and a Half Years

     My husband was long overdue for a new pair of runners but shopping for personal items is something he puts off for as long as possible. With a soon-to-expire gift card for a large sporting goods retailer, I suggested he go shopping after work yesterday, and offered to go along for moral support.
     After arriving at the store, we made our way over to the men's athletic footwear department, where we encountered a wall displaying close to a hundred different styles and models. As a Libra, making decisions can be challenging for him, and with this many options to consider, it could be overwhelming. After a short time, he enlisted the help of a young staff member (about 18 or 19 years old), and after explaining to the clerk what he was looking for in a shoe, the young man made a couple of recommendations, then went off to find the correct sizes.
     Seated on a nearby bench, watching the interactions between these two, I suddenly remembered a story one of Michael's friends had shared with us after Mike died, regarding the job our son had had at this same store when he was in his late teens. With minimal job training, it turns out that Mike would sell sporting goods to customers by making suggestions based on very little product knowledge, essentially faking his way through his shifts there. Thinking of that story now brought a huge smile to my face and I wondered how knowledgeable this particular staff member was. As the young man approached me, I looked up at his name tag and could hardly believe it - Michael! 
     September 7th - exactly 7 1/2 years since our son died. Sadness had begun draping itself over me the day before and had fully enveloped me by the time I awoke yesterday. Once I realized what the date was, I understood why. Thankfully, a couple of weeks earlier, I had randomly arranged to meet up for an afternoon walk with a long time friend for this day - an outing which resulted in a shift to lighter energy. Topping it off with this occurrence while shopping with my husband was a bonus - it made my day! And yes, my husband came home with a new pair of runners, thanks to Michael.
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Healing Energy for All

     

     Outside of my native Vancouver, the city of Paris lies closest to my heart. I have never lived there but have treasured memories of visiting over the decades. I have always felt a strong connection to everything French, perhaps due, in part, to previous incarnations. The sights, sounds and smells of Paris resonate deeply. Its lively neighbourhoods, magnificent museums, striking architecture, incredible food and lovely public spaces, to say nothing of the beautiful language and passionate people, all contribute to the vibrant pulse of this beloved city.
     So when the tragic news of malicious attacks in Paris erupted on Friday, my heart broke. It broke for the innocent victims. It broke for my beloved city of love and lights. It broke for humanity.
     And later, upon learning that many of the dead had been young people in their twenties and thirties, an added layer of sadness descended over me while thinking of all the mothers and fathers who will have to endure the added grief of losing their child.
     The card I wrote, the flowers I placed, the love I send will not undo the damage done, but with millions of people around the world doing the same, collectively we imprint healing energy on everyone affected, including ourselves. 
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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. 

I Still Call Bullshit

This morning, while placing flowers at the memorial plaque engraved with my son's birth and death dates, the voice in my head is still calling bullshit.  On a soul level, I understand Michael's passing, however, as his mother, I doubt if it will ever make sense.  The accident happened two and a half years ago today.  It might as well be two and a half months ago, since time has done little, if anything, to alter my day-to-day reality with respect to this intense loss.  How could it?  He is gone. He will never again give me a hug, never again call me on the phone, never again sit down to a family meal.  Regardless of what is happening in my day, experiencing joy or sadness or anything in-between, this companion called grief is with me, always.  I would not have anticipated this is how it would be, but as with any profound life experience, you don't know until you are in it.

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. 

Feeding the Soul

Wow, what an over-the-top week this is turning out to be.  Numerous exciting experiences, only one of which was on my radar last week.  Took in the local Modern Home Tour on the weekend, which showcased creative examples of architecture and gardens, fueling my imagination.  Won tickets to attend the upcoming Pink Martini outdoor concert at an Okanagan winery, bound to be spectacular.  Invited to an event on Grouse Mountain this evening, complete with jazz and appies. Heading out with the trailer and bikes to Whistler for a weekend of outdoor adventures.  All of this occurring whilst the days are flooded with sunshine.  Does a week like this ensure that the heart does not ache, that the tears do not fall, that the deep sadness of missing my son stays at bay?  Of course not.  However, I am fortunate to have such lively and uplifting opportunities to feed my soul.  I fully appreciate each and every one. 

Smiling Faces

We could not have asked for more perfect weather for the year's first visit to the cabin -  just shy of midway through spring, we enjoyed a taste of summer.  My husband and I appreciated the three glorious days of bathing suit weather and meals on the beach.  A lovely mix of outdoor work and play - attending opening day at the farmer's market, cycling along the channel, rowing around the lake, and yoga on the dock, interspersed with tending to maintenance chores and general cleanup of the property.  Within this perfection, grief continued to be my constant companion throughout each day - it does not take a vacation. The daily challenge of ensuring that sadness does not gain a strong foothold is always present but being up at the cabin continues to be more difficult than being at home - I hope this will not always be the case because it is so beautiful there.  Out for a run on the back roads this morning, through acres of wild flowers, amid a symphony of bird songs, I was having trouble shaking off the sadness which was threatening to prevail.  Then, halfway along the route, Michael and Kelly's larger than life smiling faces appeared, side by side.  Their sparkling eyes met mine, sending me encouragement and cheering me on.  I could feel the love and support emanating from them.  My sadness lifted and joy filtered in as I happily returned their smiles.     

Bittersweet Day

Sitting here in the dark.  Well after midnight now.  Writing by the light of two small candles glowing beside my son's picture on the shelf. Earlier this evening, enjoying a leisurely family dinner here.  With everyone pitching in.  A few hours later, the girls, their husbands, the baby, and my friend all going home.  Now still experiencing that familiar bittersweet state.  Pleasure tinged with sadness.  Present from the planning and preparation right through to the clean up.  Lingering in my heart long after.  Every time.  Recognizing it earlier this afternoon.  While walking along the river trail.  The notion, "My heart breaks many times a day," presenting itself.  Aptly describing ones such as this.

We ♥ U

Driving up to the cabin again.  Only our second time this year.  That familiar underlying apprehension gaining momentum while nearing Princeton.  Then rounding that bend.  Approaching the cross.  Spotting huge bursts of colour around the base.  Curiosity quickly replacing the anxiety.  Drawing closer to see a multitude of brilliant silk flowers. What a magnificent surprise.  Stopping the car to take it all in.  Various shades of yellow, blue, pink, orange, red, and purple.  Artfully arranged blossoms around a purple and yellow hand painted sign.  We ♥ U Kelly + Mike.  Their friend creating a lasting expression of her feelings.  Not Rest in Peace or You are Missed.  Choosing to focus on love instead.  Uplifting energy to counter some of the sadness.  The ripple effect of this heartfelt gesture impacting others.  The two of us turning to smile at each other.  And carrying on with lighter hearts.

Spa Time

A friend and I recently spending time together at an outdoor spa in the woods.  One year after our inaugural visit.  Luxuriating in three hours of pure relaxation.  Coexisting in silence.  Mindfully moving from one experience to another.  Enjoying a predominantly meditative state. Fully embracing the sensation of being, rather than doing.  Soaking in the pools.  Reposing in steam and sauna. Reclining in deck chairs beside the stone fire pit, bundled up in white terry robes.  Tears of gratitude rolling down my cheeks while reflecting on the abundance in my life. Later, some of sadness while lounging near the forest's edge.  Emotions mirroring the weather.  Billowing clouds, cool breezes, sunny breaks, and rain showers.  Observing a marked difference between this year's visit and last.  This time around achieving a much deeper sense of contentment and bliss.

Five Days in a Row

Five days in a row.  Without shedding tears of sadness thinking about my son.  A record thus far.  Worth noting and certainly thankful for. Not making assumptions today about what tomorrow, next week, or next month may look like.  Trusting it is all unfolding as it should. Fully appreciating this, right now.

Nine Months

Doing the math.  Three quarters of the way through this first year. Anticipating the challenges that still lie ahead.  More birthdays without them, including hers and his.  Celebrating Christmas and New Years. Then Valentine's Day, followed by the one year anniversary.  Mulling over ways to best honour the occasions.  Striving to incorporate love and joy into each of these events.  Providing some balance to the obvious sadness of missing them. 

Providing Comfort

In conversation with one of Kelly's dear friends.  Discussing the reluctance of co-workers to mention Kelly's name.   Not speaking of their colleague who has passed.  Perhaps afraid of upsetting this friend. Fearing they may cause additional heartache.  If only they could be reassured that the tears and sadness come regardless.  That is our reality when we have lost someone we loved. The irony is that they would actually provide comfort by sharing a memory or remarking how much they miss her smile and cheerful disposition.  Hearing others speak of our loved one actually helps ease the pain.  Knowing they mattered to others.  That they are missed.  That they will not be forgotten.

Remembrance Day 11-11-11

Pondering this holiday.  Remembrance Day.  Evoking confusion and sadness within.  Born in Canada in the 50's to newly arrived German immigrant parents.  Before reaching their teens, both left fatherless due to the war.  My father frequently imparting stories at our dinner table of those horrific years.  His underlying anger while describing frequent bombings, scarce resources, bloodshed, and lives lost.  Often blaming the enemy.  Portraying his family and friends as the victims.  Truly patriotic.  As a young person, all of this leaving me quite confused. Wondering about the glaring omission of the fact that his leaders had instigated that violence.  Later understanding that his upbringing was yet another tragic war casualty.  The children all victims of course. Subsequently noting my father and father-in-law technically enemies before my birth.  The latter enlisting with the Royal Canadian Air Force. Dropping bombs overseas.  My life informed by these two families on opposing sides of those circumstances.  Born into one, married into the other.  Leaving me somewhere in-between.  Thinking of all those who have needlessly suffered in countless wars.  Saving the poppies for others to wear.

Cloud of Grief

Yesterday morning.  Blindsided by a heavy cloud of grief.  Blew in without warning.  Undeterred by the bright skies and sunshine outside. Stubbornly anchoring itself.  For no particular reason.  The date having no special significance.  Not missing them more than on other days.  It just happened.  This process of grieving so unpredictable.  Resulting in a 'holding my head above water' kind of day.  Profound sadness penetrating my entire being.  Weighing it down.  Tears flowing. Breathing laboured.  Despite meditation.  Not eased by the self talk of how much worse it could be.  Its firm grip remaining even after a long walk along the ocean.  Not relieved by a conversation with a friend or phone call to a relative.  Accepting this is what it looks like at times. Hopeful that today will be better.  Confident of being able to weather it if not.

Heartwarming Time Together

The comfort of turkey soup.  Made with love.  Enjoying a bowl on this rainy day back home.  Reflecting on the weekend.  Missing his energy, wit and one liners.  Fondly reflecting on his winning ways while playing various games.  Cribbage, Skip-Bo, Game of Things, Bean Bag Toss, Yahtzee.  All of us spending hours on these pastimes.  Warmed by an ever burning fire and each other.  Anecdotes of Michael weaving their way through our time together.  Plenty of joy and laughter interspersed with pangs of sadness while continuing to adapt to this new scenario.   A heartwarming time overall.

Adeptness of Human Nature

Strong and fragile.  Alternating between both states many times a day.  Emotionally and physically.  Able to keep perspective much of the time.  Drawing on compassion and patience for self and others while adjusting to this situation.  Focusing on gratitude.  Staying active for overall mental and physical well being.  All this interspersed with bouts of low energy.  Periods of penetrating sadness.  Feeling lost.  How could it be otherwise?  Heartened by this ability to flow back and forth between these contrasting states.  Continuing to marvel at the adeptness of human nature.  

Sea of Emotions

Finding every day to be a very bumpy ride indeed.  Travelling in this sea of emotions.  Sadness, contentment, disappointment, joy, grief, love, loneliness, and gratitude.  Often shifting from one to another in mere seconds.  Some days filled with more of the uplifting feelings.  Others weighted in favour of those that can be difficult to endure.  When experiencing prolonged periods of the challenging emotions,  I think back to a recommendation heard regarding cravings at an addictions education seminar last year.  To notice the urge, acknowledge it, observe it, and remember that it will pass.  Works with uncomfortable feelings too.  A healthy prescription for helping to stay the course.

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.

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.