Celebrating Love and Life

That was the best MGMG tournament yet.  Taking place on a warm, sunny day miraculously sandwiched in-between one and half days of steady rain with cool temperatures on either side.  Surpassing our fundraising goal by donating $4611 to Canuck Place Children's Hospice.  Inviting new people into the fold.  Delighting in the sweet energy of an increasing number of little ones present.  Experiencing an abundance of hugs, laughs, and stories, along with some tears, as well. Friends and family not missing Mike and Kelly any less, but honouring them both by celebrating love and life, fully.  Go us!

Three Years In

Hi Michael,
   Mom here. Three years in, and it's still so hard living with this experience of a mother losing a child. No doubt there have been difficult circumstances in previous lives as well, but still, this is a tough one. I miss you so much.

   How are you doing? Are you considering coming back soon or do you need more time? I have no idea what the space between lives looks like. Maybe you'll still be there when I return.

   Thank you for continuing to stay close and helping me see the signs. The need to know you are near is still strong. I know you were watching earlier this week while I played some of your favourite music, loudly. A playlist compiled by your friends, largely made up of songs I had not heard before your death. I felt deeply connected to you while listening to the lyrics, which had spoken to you, and were now speaking to me. And once my tears had given way to dancing, I could see you smiling, and dancing too.
Love Mom ♥ 

Peeling Back the Layers

Last week's yoga class left me feeling quite undone.  Rather than returning home in the usual state of gratitude and contentment, I encountered a crushingly difficult, grief-filled evening instead.  That overwhelming sense of loss dominated much of the following day as well.  This was a first - yoga had never had that affect on me.  Upon reflection, I realized that my grief had been triggered by the teacher's suggestion that we each set an intention for class.  After some deliberation, I had silently asked for a hug from Michael.  Of course, my rational mind knew that was physically impossible.  However, another part of me entertained the notion that the hug may come in the form of spirit connection.  Alas, in Savasana pose at the end of the class, I recognized that neither had occurred, and the tears flowed.  I was again reminded that a physical hug from my son would never occur. Obviously this was not new information, so what was going on?  Why such an intense response?  Perhaps it was the perfect time for me to access yet another layer of grief.  My mind, body, and soul were in that deeply connected state of existence, allowing for further penetration of reality. Peeling back the layers.  Like in the onion analogy often referred to with regards to personal growth.  I wonder how many layers this onion has. 

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. 

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.

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.

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.

What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

My husband so often reminds me of my son.  With his body language, comments he delivers, and some of the choices he makes.  Both smart, funny and capable guys.  Two tall, blue-eyed, handsome men. Yesterday, over a leisurely breakfast outdoors.  Commenting aloud to my husband about him balancing precariously on his chair.  With that grin on his face and gleam in his eyes, throwing out the cheeky comeback of, "What could possibly go wrong?".  Indeed.  Words that could easily have been spoken by my son.  Reflecting that happy-go-lucky attitude. Providing us with another opportunity for full blown laughter.  To the point of tears.  Words to hold on to for subsequent smiles. 

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.

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.

Shifting Moments

How quickly it still shifts from moment to moment.  Awaking Friday morning to a magnificent sunrise.  Contrasting greatly with the storm of the previous day.  Strolling in the sunshine along the rocky seashore. Chatting and laughing with a friend and her dog.  Grateful for the change of scenery and distractions.  Upon returning to the cottage, checking my computer.  Noticing a posting made minutes earlier.  A photo of Michael.  Standing beside the ocean, arms stretched out wide. Taken days before he died.  One I have seen before.  Now catching me completely off guard.   This scene a perfect match to the one I had just been experiencing.  A second uploaded image showing a necklace his aunt had created  for herself in his memory.   Incorporating a heart and a star.  This, my first glimpse of it.  Both pictures instantly transporting me from a sense of peace and lightness to one of heart piercing sadness. Tears falling.  Breathing through it.  Then moving on with the day. Enjoying an afternoon with more laughter and conversation.  A short drive and ferry ride later, arriving home with a sense of contentment. Noticing the stack of unopened mail.  Tearing open a large envelope addressed to me.  Reading the enclosed letter from one of Michael's and Kelly's high school teachers.  One who is also living in this community. Sharing her condolences, as well as some memories.  Resulting in further emotions to process.  More tears.  In both cases, greatly appreciating that others continue to think about him.  Making the effort to share that.   As difficult as it is being in the feelings these pictures and words evoke, I am thankful for the communication.  Helping me feel connected and supported.  This ongoing roller-coaster ride.

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.

Four Short Words

My son is dead.  Four short words.  By far the most difficult ones ever expressed in all these fifty-four years.  This phrase often jumping uninvited into my thoughts.  Regardless of what may be going on at the time. Heart tightening immediately.  Breathing more laboured.  Tears forming.  Understanding the truth of these words failing to prevent this visceral reaction.  An aspect of my being still frequently shocked by them.  Patience and compassion my allies in this.

Pure and Simple

A moment infused with tranquility and contentment.  Across the lake, early morning sunlight streams onto the hillside.  Mesmerized by the magnificence.  Another day full of possibilities and potential.  In this beauty, the tears fall.  My body expressing the layer of grief that can only be processed on the physical level.  Regardless of time spent intellectualizing the situation or focusing on the spiritual aspect, there is energy still needing to be released.  This not negating the presence of the glorious day before me.  Pure and simple.

Carpe Diem

Carpe Diem.  Seize the day.  And what a day it was.  Unseasonably warm weather.  Without commitments.  Decided to hike The Chief.   Arriving in Squamish, we laced up and headed off.  Passing moss covered boulders, majestic timbers, fast flowing river and fellow hikers. Atop the north peak, sharing a sandwich.  Drinking in the amazing view.  Then scrambling back down around boulders and logs, over bridges and stairways.  A carefree three hour adventure.  Time for coffee and people watching.  Stopping to browse through a gallery.  Back home, warm bath and simple pasta dinner.  Followed by Scrabble and a movie.  Not a day without tears but a great day to be alive.

Moment to Moment

Out for a run in the sun.  Pondering the expression, "One day at a time".  Using it often.  Realizing that perhaps, "One moment at a time" might be more accurate.   Reflecting on the previous evening.  Still early.  Playing Scrabble on the patio.  Warm air, lush greenery, wispy pink clouds against a pale blue sky.  Thoroughly enjoying it all.  Then suddenly, in all that magnificence, feeling a pang of anguish in my chest.  As if a knife were piercing my heart.  Three of Swords card in the Tarot deck.  Why?  For a fleeting moment, expecting  Mike and Kelly to walk in the back door, come out back, pull up some chairs and share highlights of their day.  Then, just as quickly as that image had appeared, the realization followed.   It would not be so.  All of this washed over and through me within seconds.  A few tears shed.  Shortly thereafter, smiling at the beauty of the half moon and the antics of the birds in the fountain.  This is how it flows.  Moment to moment.

Gift of Time

The calendar pages continue to turn.  Five months yesterday.  Initially missing him with my every breath.  The tears flowing freely.  Today, twenty minutes may pass without thoughts of Michael, Kelly or Diesel.   Teary less often.   A few times a day.  Adapting.  This is the gift of time.

Saying the Wrong Thing

"Are you over it yet?"  This from a loving and well meaning relative yesterday.  The resulting tears due in part to the shock of hearing it asked.  Twenty one weeks ago today.  Accept it?  Yes.  Over it?  No.  Not able to imagine it is something one ever gets "over".  Saying the wrong thing.   How often I have done that myself.  Sometimes knowing it as soon as the words left my lips.  At other times, the realization coming later.   Add in the moments of being totally unaware of the effect my words had on another.  Perhaps this is why some people neglect to make any reference at all to what has transpired.  Even though it is the first time we have seen each other since it happened.  Even though they know.  Fear of saying the wrong thing.  I understand.  

A Day Without Tears

No tears at all yesterday.  Observing that there have been a few of these monumental days now.  As the hours drift by, the pain still resides underneath most breaths that I take.  However, it has begun to feel less raw.  The sun and warmer temperatures certainly don't hurt.