Tonight at bedtime, we were have cuddle and talk time, like we usually do.
But this evening was quite unusual.
I was lying with seven year old, JC, and three year old OC.
OC snuggled into my neck and licked me. Yup, like a cat.
He started to giggle.
I asked, “Why did you do that?”
Seven year old JC piped up from beside of me, “He is trying to get Nana’s love into your heart?”
Wow! Out of the mouth of boys!
Grief is very personal.
I would love there to be a recipe for grief to follow or a ‘how-to’ book.
But nope.
No recipe.
No book.
Just living each moment.
Feeling the emotions.
My dad is choosing to cross country ski through this month of grief.
January has thirty-one days.
He has skied twenty-seven days.
Each day.
Getting up.
Getting out.
And skiing.
For a total of ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY- TWO kilometres this month.
One kilometre at a time.
Grief is very personal.
I would love there to be a recipe for grief to follow or a ‘how-to’ book.
But nope.
No recipe.
No book.
Just living each moment.
Feeling the emotions.
My dad is choosing to cross country ski through this month of grief.
January has thirty-one days.
He has skied twenty-seven days.
Each day.
Getting up.
Getting out.
And skiing.
For a total of ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY- TWO kilometres this month.
One kilometre at a time.
Every day.
Making a choice.
To ski through his grief.
I love you dad!
How do you explain something with words that is just a feeling?
What do you say to describe a place where only you may be at?
I have been searching for weeks to describe this sense of where I am as I begin 2015.
Suddenly, as I read another woman’s story, it hit me:
“Threshold.”
A word to describe where I am at.
The best one that I can conjure up.
I am neither living in my past, nor do I feel that I am moving anywhere in the forward direction.
Sitting.
Holding still.
On a threshold.
For those that know me well, they know that holding still is not my forte.
Give me a list.
Tell me what needs to be “done”.
Ask me to organize.
I am your woman!
But not now.
Maybe not again.
My head is still fuzzy.
The grief I feel is deep and raw.
The hole my mom has left in my life is vast.
So I sit, peacefully in my home.
Happy on the ski hill.
Surrounded by love.
Glancing back.
Looking forward.
Just being.
On the threshold.
Being alive is not only the opposite of being dead.
Being alive is also ALERT and ACTIVE
Alert.
Active.
In the last year, my life has being painfully touched with the cycle of life and death.
I have tasted the acidity of death.
I have reflected on the sweet life lived by my precious mom.
As I think about 2014, which started five days after my mom’s death, I am acutely aware that my year could have been different without the prayer of my “people”, the presence of some very wise souls and my brood of boys that surround me.
I would not have survived without these “Saints”!
![IMG_7913[1]](https://beenough.me/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/img_79131.jpg?w=300&h=300)
(Yup, that’s me on the right after our workout!)
With my whole heart, mind and soul, I want to shout:
I am ALIVE.
I am ALERT.
God is ACTIVE all around me.
Working things out for His good.
Helping me see His ways.
Allowing me the privilege to taste life anew.
Savouring each workout with incredible women in His creation.
Doing things for the first time, things I thought I would NEVER do.
Enjoying every moment with people I love and adore.
![IMG_7914[1]](https://beenough.me/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/img_79141.jpg)
I am grateful to be ALIVE.
Words and prayers propping me up.
Holding me to this season.
This time of remembering.
I am blessed to know these folks.
To have their words and prayers pouring into my life.
A day to celebrate.
A time to remember.
Hiking up.
Sharing stories.
Letting go.
December 26th, 2014
The boys ran ahead and look what they made:
I am continually amazed at the boys ability to remember, feel sadness and pour out love.
Remembering.
Tears flow.
Sadness overcomes.
What a year it has been!
I have not walked it alone and for this I am ETERNALLY grateful.
More to come soon!
"Be" ENOUGH 