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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Invisible Mothers

      This coming Sunday, mothers across the country will be honoured with brunches, gifts, phone calls and cards. Some will be lovingly remembered with flowers placed at their grave. Today, however, my thoughts turn to all the invisible mothers in my midst. The mother whose first and only child was born with serious health issues, to which he succumbed four months later. The woman whose mothering experience consisted of giving birth to a baby, then placing her for adoption, without any further contact. The mother of one who raised her child to his late teens, only to have him die before her.
     For these, and the many other invisible mothers, there will be no celebration. Instead, the day will hold sadness, what-ifs, and likely, pain. This Mother's Day, let us send them our love, and hope that their friends and family take the time to acknowledge them, as well. It will not change their circumstances but it may help heal these mother's hearts .
Image: Shutterstock
www.diaryofanintuitive.com

The Art of Love

Today is day one of the month associated with celebrating love. This year, I am fully embracing the theme by challenging myself to make a conscious love connection on each of the twenty-eight days in February. This will include celebrating romantic love, love between friends, maternal love, self-love, and brotherly love. It may take the visible form of a call, a card, a hug, a gift, a kiss. Or, it may be invisible - a meditation, a prayer, or one of my favourites, visualizing hundreds of tiny hearts raining down on strangers. Thank you February for inviting me to practice the art of love. 
Image: Johntex
www.diaryofanintuitive.com

Feeling the Love in Hawaii

These past two weeks have been incredibly nourishing, relaxing, and overflowing with love  - two of the best weeks of my life.  Months ago, when one of my daughters suggested we all go on a family vacation to Hawaii this year, it was an easy sell.  The last time our family had spent extended holiday time together was when the kids were in their teens. So on November 1st, off we flew.  En route, it did come up that this would be a bittersweet experience since the circumstances would also bring a heightened sense of our loss.  However, we knew that the joyful energy of the two little ones would be a wonderful asset.  And I reminded my family that there would be obvious signs from Michael denoting his presence, and indeed, there were many.  

Our first morning on the Big Island happened to coincide with my birthday. When I awoke, I lay alone in bed for a few minutes, gazing out at the palm trees before joining everyone downstairs.  The waves of sadness were eased with the overwhelming gratitude I felt to be starting my new year in such an extraordinary way.  Later that afternoon, while our grandchildren were napping, my husband and I explored a nearby ocean side trail which wound its way over black lava rock, with chunks of dead, white coral scattered on either side.  Minutes into our walk, I was overjoyed to see the first sign: a heart-shaped piece of coral lying in the middle of the path. 

A little further along, we discovered numerous heart outlines, perhaps fifty, or more, created with white coral pieces, most containing words or initials inside.  I could hardly believe my eyes - I had never seen anything like it.  The white hearts looked gorgeous against the backdrop of the black lava and I wondered if I would see K & M, but did not. We were approaching the end of the trail which opened up onto a small, sandy beach and were about to ascend the stairs leading away from the shore when I saw it - a huge, black lava heart outline lying in the sand, about 2 metres high, containing the letters MJG!  Michael James Gibson.  A poignant birthday present.  Since I was without a camera, I planned on returning the following day to take a photo.  After walking a ways along the resort path, we turned around in order to follow the trail back to our townhouse.  When we were back at the top of the stairway, we looked down and saw a couple who were rearranging the initials in the heart beside "ours"  to make it their own.  They had a phone and when asked, happily agreed to email me a photo of the heart containing MJG.  They joked that it was a good thing we came along when we did, otherwise "ours" might have been changed as well.  It had not occurred to me that these hearts were in constant flux and indeed, the following day, MJG was gone. 

Midway through the trip, it was the large, cheeky turtle marked with the number 13 (a resident of the Honu family inhabiting the popular bay we were snorkeling in)  playfully hip-checking a unsuspecting male snorkeler, that made me smile.  Michael had had an affinity for turtles, and his favourite number was 13.  

And on the final evening, while standing on the shore, watching the most magnificent sunset of our trip, all of us laughing as my granddaughter splashed fully clothed in the waves, we took up the offer of a fellow tourist to have our family photo taken.  While posing for the shot, I was filled to the brim with love, and missed my son deeply.  Just as the picture was being taken, my heart melted as I realized that the song being played by the musicians behind us, at the beach restaurant we had just left, was Somewhere Over the Rainbow, one of the three songs played during Michael's service.

This family vacation has been two full weeks of feeling blessed beyond belief.

Accidental Connection

Woke up to another magnificent sunny day on Sunday.  Leisurely start with morning paper and coffee, followed by checking email, then Facebook.  Scrolling down, I noticed a post from a prominent biologist whom I follow, and as I read the copy accompanying a photo taken at a recent film screening, I was quickly transported from serenity to a heightened state, complete with increased heart rate.  The caption named a Grand Chief and his wife who were both seated beside her.  My intuition kicked in and I had a strong sense that this was the woman who had had the misfortune of driving northbound through Princeton on the early morning of March 7, 2011, approaching a corner to find a car skidding across the ice, directly into her path, then colliding.  To date, the minimal information I had regarding that driver's identity was due to a bizarre coincidence one of my neighbours had shared with me a few months after the accident.  While awaiting dinner service at a conference up in the Okanagan, he had taken his assigned seat, when a fellow attendee, using a cane, approached the table and sat down beside him in her designated seat.  During their conversation, it was revealed that the woman had been in a car accident, thus the cane, and after further discussion, these two realized that the accident was one and the same. When my neighbour returned home, he had told me about the crazy connection but did not mention her by name, only that her husband was an Okanagan band chief and the number of children they had.  Back to the photo.  It took a mere few minutes of online research to realize that indeed this was the right person and to get her contact information.  After some thought, I felt compelled to send her an email, explaining who I was, wishing her well, and assuring her that after Michael and Kelly's deaths, it had never crossed my mind to ask,"Why him, why her, why me?"  This morning, I received a lovely reply resulting in two mother's hearts soothed after this accidental connection.

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.

The Sum of Its Parts

It has been eleven days since I last posted here, by far the longest spell between entries since I began this blog thirty-three months ago. During this past week, each time I sat down to write, I kept thinking that I could address one or two of the numerous instances of positive feedback the book was receiving.  I would get stuck - there were, and continue to be, so many examples to choose from.  Friends, family, acquaintances, the community at large, as well as complete strangers are responding to the book as I hoped they would - with open hearts.  When I sat down this afternoon to again ponder a possible blog entry, I reflected on the overarching themes of love, support, and gratitude.  It then became clear.  Rather than trying to focus on just a couple of specific examples, it was easier to address the sum of its parts.  Each of the individual acts are expanding our collective energies of love and gratitude.  Love and gratitude, the two words found inside the open heart on the book's front cover.

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.

Día de los Muertos

Exactly a year after writing about Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) festivities, I happened upon these celebrations in a Mexican area of Sedona, Arizona this week.  With its powerful underlying spiritual energies, this town is an excellent place to experience such a heartfelt event.  Trees adorned with colourful ribbons and flags.  Hundreds of decorative skulls and skeletons prominently displayed.  A number of individuals dressed in ornate costumes wandering amidst musicians and dancers.  Everyone given the opportunity to honour deceased loved ones by placing candles and photos on altars strewn with marigolds and rose petals.  The public invited to paint on a collaborative community mural.  Together creating a vibrant atmosphere filled with love and uplifting energy for all to absorb.  Not without a few tears of course, but rewarded with hearts revived.

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.

Parallel Celebrations

Vivid imagination or a glimpse into the other?  Rather than focusing on loved ones not being here to celebrate with us, turning it around. Broadening the perspective.  Picturing their spirits having an amazing time of it where they are.  Seeing the possibility of parallel celebrations. Their experience filled with such depth and beauty.  They occasionally pausing to look over at us with loving hearts.  Wishing we could be there with them to feel that magnificence.  Reminding themselves that for now, this is how it must be.  That we all take turns moving back and forth between these versions.   Taking great care not to diminish the joyfulness of their festivities.  Understanding how disrespectful that would be. 

Six Months Today

Grieving the loss of a loved one is difficult.  Two simultaneously, doubly hard.  Six months today.  Both of them in or around my thoughts most of the day.  Some of the night.  Grief still residing deeply in so much of my being.  Eased at times by the knowing they are together.  That was Michael and Kelly's destiny.  Finding a measure of comfort in this.  Also buoyed by their smiling faces when asking them for help with all of this.  Diesel on occasion showing up with his grin.   Envisioning them watching over all those who loved them, with pride.  Observing us carrying on to best of our ability.  One hundred percent behind us.  And always in our hearts.

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!)

A Young Girl's Gift

Today I opened an envelope which contained artwork from a six year girl I have only met once or twice.  As I contemplated her drawing and read the accompanying card, I was so moved that my eyes began to water as love filled my heart.  Her grandparents are cabin neighbours, and this child had occasionally seen Michael and his friends at the lake.  I was told that when she overheard the adults discussing the sad events that had transpired, she had asked her mother for a piece of paper.  She then created a joyful, sunny scene in which Mike, Kelly and Diesel all have angel wings, and everyone, including my husband and I, are smiling with hearts floating above our heads.  In the card, her mother shared the daughter's explanation that she drew the three of them as the most beautiful angels ever seen, watching over everyone they love.  This child also wanted her mother to let me know that, " He loves his family very much and that he's watching over you all the time with a big smile."  That everlasting smile.  What a precious gift of creative expression this young girl shared.