World Cup Football is on!
Our Spanish jerseys have arrived thanks to Tia and Tio.
The washer is running each night so that the jerseys are ready for the day’s activities.
The jersey’s arrived on Mother’s Day:
The boys are ready:
Biking:
Hockey and dog walking:
Ramp Running:
Snack time:
Espana!!!
World Cup defending champions…
A few weeks ago, I received a comment, an innocent comment, that I have pondered and chewed on for weeks.
“Wow, you guys always do such a great job of including your children in what you are doing!”
I am surprised by this comment because:
🌀 On a daily basis, I love including my boys bustling energy of curiosity with what we are doing.
🌀 I never imagine doing anything without my boys hovering near by or asking to help. Even when I am just folding laundry they often help or play hockey behind me.
🌀 If we do ‘want’ to do something without the boys, we will plan for one of us to take them on an excursion outside of the house or do the activity during Naptime or after bedtime. I must admit that these times are few and far between.
Here is our family in action over the last few weeks working together on landscaping, pool opening, crib disassembling and dog training:
Sexy Neck moves one load of dirt then one load of boys.
JC heard that we were going to take down the crib… One morning he awoke, got the tools, disassembled the crib and brought it all downstairs. He’s seven and had remembered working with Sexy Neck to put it up last summer.
Loading up the trailer for the dump and then getting a ride in the trailer across the yard.
Laying brick with Papa Bob.
Rolling out turf.
‘Preparing’ the new garden.
Dog training and walking.
Before and after: Taking off the winter pool cover.
Working together.
Team.
Family.
Takes longer?
Yes!
Raising boys into men.
Harnessing energy.
Pouring in.
Pouring out.
Sticking together.
Perfectly imperfect.
Patiently teaching.
Creating lovely memories.
Putting down roots.
Together.
Grief is like one very long goodbye. My willingness to say goodbye is what is going to propel me forward.
Right now, I am a very sensitive being. I am very conscious of who I engage with and who gets a superficial ‘hello’. My senses are on high alert as I continue to grieve mom’s suffering in the hospital and as I grieve the loss of my mom each day. I can sense when someone is ‘on the same page’ as I am. I feel a harmony that exists on a spiritual/emotional level.
One friend that has met me exactly where I am at, recommended this amazing book. It is a memoir of a daughter losing her mother to colon cancer. It is real, kind, cruel, beautiful, pure grief and completely harmonious with where I am at.
There were two things that struck me:
First, the ideas about other cultures having rituals around grief that we in the Western world don’t have. I wish I could wear black to symbolize my grief or at least make a sign like you hang on your store when you are having lunch that says: “On a grief break. Back in about ____ months. Fill in the blank. Your guess is as good as mine!” Every time I step out of my home, it is an effort. Every relationship I have is conscious and with people I feel God has placed in my life and are healthy for where I am at.
Broken.
Wounded.
Hurting.
Beautifully fragile.
A flower awaiting the sun.
Holding still.
Being.
The second idea that stuck with me from this book of great wisdom for me is this quote that comes from chapter fifteen. The author is speaking about a woman she had met. Here is the quote:
On December 30, I went to a party at my friend Stephanie’s, a reunion of friends. Maureen, a woman I’ve met earlier this year, took my hand and said,” I have been thinking about you, how are you?” She seems always to be seen what she believes, or finding a way to see what she believes, and so I told her about the ashes, about the difficulty of the anniversary., And idly mentioned the quarrel I’d had with a friend.
Maureen said, “these are the 18 months when you find out who can really go there and who can’t. This is a vulgar way of putting it, and there are many wonderful things about our culture, but I’m sorry, it is a phobic culture. People do not want to confront the existential mess that is life. They want to check things off – okay, you’re okay. I just because you can talk about your grief, you know,” she said, looking sharply at me, ” doesn’t mean you are in control of it, or that you know what’s going on. You’re in the ocean. And what you think, what you analyze, that is just descanting of that ocean. Your mind is an ocean and it has scary things in it. While you may be able to analyze your grief at 3 PM, that has nothing to do with how you feel at 3 AM, in the dark center of night. “
Oceans.
Nighttime.
Talk.
Feelings.
Out of control.
Understanding.
Living.
The Long Goodbye.
My grip is loosening.
My expectations changing.
I feel deeply.
The pain is an open wound.
I see with wise eyes.
I know myself more.
My hands are open.
My heart is free.
Free to love.
Free to let go.
Freedom is my daily journey.
The chains are broken.
Nothing holds me back.
Letting go of expectations.
Free to be me.
(12.05.2014)
—————————————–//————
Yesterday was Mother’s Day. My eighth Mother’s Day as a mom and the first Mother’s Day without my mom. I had many people write that they were thinking of me. I think a few were concerned.
I had a beautiful day! We spent the whole day in the yard, I painted outside, we ate together, we talked about mom and yes, we felt pain. Love overflowed through my boys, our peaceful home and the thoughts from my friends.
This open wound that was birthed when mom got sick will be open for who knows how long. BUT rejoice, I am not suffering. Each day I choose to sit and deal with my pain, my wound, my hole, the waves crashing onto me. This pain is in no way producing anger nor worry. This pain is not producing suffering which can lead to addictions, anger, resentment, wrath or …. During these days, I feel incredible peace and freedom all mixed up with incredible sadness. I feel freedom to live without excuses, with no expectations and without ‘doing’ a whole lot.
Here is this Mother’s Day in photos:
Thoughtful gift from my friend, D!
Look at this beauty from the summer before we lived in Swizterland. Good old 2003.
This is all I can muster up today for the blog. Just wanted to touch base… whew I am fatigued.
We celebrated Sexy Neck’s birthday this week. I have started a Pilates Bootcamp. I wrote a four page complaint letter to our local Health Authority related to mom’ s care in December. We are on the gymnastics and soccer spring circuit.
I am just plain tired.
Nothing extreme.
Still dealing with the daily pain.
Loving my boys.
Putting down roots.
Just plain tired.
I read about Desmond Tutu and his daughter’s thirty day forgiveness challenge.
Healing communities.
Finding freedom.
Learning about forgiveness.
I am IN.
‘They’ say that the fourth month after the loss of a loved one often leads to things getting ‘easier’! I would have agreed with ‘them’ until I celebrated my birthday this week. ‘They’ also say that all the firsts are extremely difficult. I wholeheartedly concur.
The holes my mom has left in my every day life have slowly been filled with new routines, and great family and friends leaning in. The holes are still felt but the feeling is not a tidal wave that pushes my face into the sand, but a gentle waves the nudges me to shore.
My birthday, oh baby, that was a different story. On my birthday last week, I felt a gaping wound where my mom would have been. My body was pulverized into the sand as wave after wave hit me. All I could do was cry. I am still trying to recover.
Tears flowing effortlessly.
Walking through mud.
Feeling vulnerable and exposed.
A day to celebrate.
A day to grieve a deep loss.
A day of gratitude for the woman who birthed me.
Mom was an incredible birthday celebrator. She truly honoured the birthday boy/girl on their birthday with a gift and activity that was personal and thoughtful. There was no token birthday dinner and cake but usually something to be done together. She took the time to ponder, plot and come up with a very special gift and day.
I remember my eighteenth birthday. I wanted to get up and watch the sun rise. (For those people who ‘know’ me you are probably laughing hysterically.). My mom didn’t mock this teenager, that liked to sleep til noon, but instead she jumped on my idea and started asking questions: What time is sunrise these days? Where do you want to go? What time should we leave the house? My parents and I watched the sunrise on my eighteenth birthday from the top of Cranbrook Hill.
Then came by big 3-0 birthday. Sexy Neck concocted a surprise for me with my parents help. They flew all the way over to Germany to surprise me at a hotel, the Oberamerhof. We were having a birthday celebration there with some friends from the school we were teaching at in Zurich, Switzerland. I bawled my eyes out!
Well this birthday, I bawled my eyes out again. I cried over the boys playing on a teeter totter and mom not being on the bench beside me talking about how the boys are growing.
I bawled at the kind and thoughtful Facebook posts. I bawled through birthday cards, cake and my boys really doing their best to make it a special day. I bawled because of the incredible gratitude I felt. I bawled because of the overwhelming loss of my mom.
Gaping wound.
Large hole.
Waves coming hard in the storm.
Hot dog roast.
Birthday cake.
Love.
Leaning in.
Staying close to home.
Face in the sand.
Waiting for the waves to end.
Unpredictable storms of grief.
Just waiting.
Noticing.
Praying.
Staying present.
Being me.
Allowing my heart to feel deeply, in the joy and the sadness.
Tears on the edge of my eyes.
Not just hearing but really trying to listen.
Using the expensive dishes.
Feeling the sun on my face.
Giving my hands time to feel the soil.
Being still and looking into my boys eyes.
Not waiting until… the renovations are done, this person responds a certain way, I am thirty pounds lighter…
Live.
Life.
Every day.
Each moment.
Every emotion.
Breathe by breathe.
“Start living now. Stop saving the good china for that special occasion. Stop withholding your love until that special person materializes. Every day you are alive is a special occasion. Every minute, every breath, is a gift from God.”
(Mary Manin Morrissey)
"Be" ENOUGH 