As fall turns into winter, there is much discourse about the temperature, the wind as well as the white stuff falling from the sky.
Yesterday, as OC and I walked to preschool, I wondered when does a delighted, excited child turn into a grumbling complaining adult weather watcher?
Feeling alive.
Wind on my face.
My son at my side.
Walking into the weather.
There is a storm a brewing.
We went to visit Papa.
We saw one of these:
But it was green.
It was the exact green transport ambulance that brought my mom from the hospital to hospice house last Christmas.
And what did my three year old say as we drove by this green transport ambulance:
“Mom, look! An ambulance! We can tell it to go to heaven, get Nana and take her to Papa’s house!”
I wish son! I wish!
My three year old thinks an ambulance took Nana to heaven.
He now calls my parent’s house, Papa’s house.
He wants to bring Nana back to Papa too!
Me too, son! Me too!
In sadness.
With gratitude for these moments with my boys.
Goodnight!
I am sure you have heard of a triathlon or a duathlon or perhaps even the heptathlon from Olympic events.
But have you heard of one of the greatest sporting events to hit 2014? 
Papathon!
A weekend of activity.
Celebrating Papa’s 69th birthday.
Lovingly planned over two weeks by myself, thoughtful Sexy Neck and my three insightful boys.
Papathon began with swimming, a backyard eight hole golf course with prizes, cake, dinner out with my dad, sleepover then skating and brunch before Papa headed home. 
We tried to plan a three event weekend, like a triathlon, but it ended up being so much more than what we did.
Laughter.
Joy.
Tears.
Grief.
Wrapping paper.
Gifts.
Necklace for Nana’s rings.
Lottery tickets.
Golf balls in a dump truck.
Steak dinner at our old favourite restaurant.
Swapping lies.
Creating memories.
Celebrating life!
Pouring out love.
For our dear Papa!
Happy birthday Dad!
Every day change occurs.
Inside and outside of myself.
Whether I like it or not.
Seasons change.
People change.
Decisions are made.
Babies are born.
People die.
I am not where I was or who I was a year ago even though I relive last year every day.
Surgery for mom.
Hospital trips.
Watching her in pain.
Watching her die and not even knowing it.
Now I know.
Now I see.
Now I feel.
The numbness is gone.
I live in unbearable pain every day.
Fatigue-inducing.
Gut-wrenching.
Leg-weakening.
Pain.
BUT….
I also live with unimaginable gratitude every day.
Life-embracing.
Life-giving.
God-loving.
Gratitude.
The gift of grief!
I soak in my book club women’s smiles, ideas, disagreements and laughter.
I slow down and look.
Really look.
The ability to see and feel the autumn leaves changing is a time to rejoice.
Being able to walk under a bright red umbrella of leaves makes me stop. 
Listening to the scrunch, crunch, munch of leaves under three year old OC’s tires as he madly pedals his two wheel bike makes me smile and giggle.
And playing in the leaves with my boys is one of the sweetest moments in these last deep, dark weeks.
What will you notice today?
Who will you choose to spend your time with?
The gift of life!
Choice.
Noticing.
Relationships.
Grief.
Gratitude.
Life.
Me.
Yes, me.
I encourage you to stop.
Pause.
Stand.
Take one moment.
To be.
Watch your breath.
Listen.
Really listen to the sounds around you.
Right now.
What do you hear?
What do you see?
Why are you choosing to do what you are doing on THIS day?
Death is forever.
Life is now.
I choose to stand in the light.
Imperfectly me.
Humbled.
Vulnerable.
In His light.
Just being.
Me.
I am not sure how I got this photo, but again it was through nothing that I did.
Just being.
In His light.
Last Thanksgiving, when all was stripped away, my mom
brought us together and she was thankful. Even when cancer was ravaging her athletic body last fall she had us all over for dinner. We even took family photos.
And she showed gratitude at the effort we all made to be together. We were enough!
No complaints.
No ‘I wish’…
Just gratitude for the moment.
And talk about being cold!
(She was SOOO skinny!)
This year for Thanksgiving, I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted someone to make my mom’s potato romanoff and someone else to shove their hands into a cold dead bird. Perhaps, someone could have organized this brood of boys into a drama troop like mom did in 2013.
Dreams.
Wishful thinking.
Long ago memories.
This year, it was my turn.
No running.
No excuses.
My opportunity to create memories and show gratitude.
I stuffed and cooked a magnificent Turkey. I turned mom’s special potatoes into a soupy disgusting mess. We had gravy, olives and apple pie. My boys played a song on the piano showing their new skills to their proud Papa. We shed a few tears with dad and we were together.
Remembering mom.
Wishing she was here.
Creating memories.
Full of gratitude for all that I can do!
Grateful for those who reached into my grief during another ‘first’ since my mom’s death.
Grateful for every person who has truly shown empathy to my family.
Grateful to be alive with my boys!
I start pedaling as the moon shines.
Darkness unfolds over me and through me.
The grief is vibrating throughout my being.
Tears come easily.
My heart literally aches.
I don’t know how to live another moment without my mom.
No recipe for grief.
No instruction manual or no expert that can tell you exactly what your journey will look like.
But I hold closely to my wise counselor’s words: just notice, don’t judge, just sit in it.
So I get on my bike and I sit.
Not responsible for anyone but myself and my grief.
Nowhere to go and no timeline to returned.
So I pedal and I wait.
I wait for dawn to break, hoping that my tears will be dried up by the time I need to return to my life, my beautiful life with my boys, and the wonderful people that surround me.
I see, now, that grief is no longer the end, it is simply the beginning.
An opportunity to shed unhealthy relationships.
A time to go within myself to look beyond the noise of the day-to-day stuff.
A new life to go deep inside my heart to realize how I want to spend my short time on this earth.
As I look south to where my dad grieves, where my dear friends live, I know that the darkness in grief is quickly lit up by the light of people that you deeply, deeply love.
This Thanksgiving, I am extremely grateful for every person who has walked through and beside me during this incredibly difficult and rich time.
My tears are now pouring out because of the gratitude that I feel. The sadness is replaced but not gone.
I think I will most likely live the rest of my life a humbled woman who misses her mom.
Kisses. Air hugs. High fives.
Off to attempt my first Thanksgiving dinner extravaganza. Now that would bring anyone to tears! Thank goodness for supportive Sexy Neck, helpful boys and old neighbours with sage advice.
Wisdom.
Creating time.
Slowing the flow of input and regurgitation.
Change.
Create openness.
Slowly learning more than I thought I could.
Grief.
Creating space.
Slowly realizing I will live on earth forever without my mom.
Autumn.
Creator brings forth colour.
Slowly coming to peace.
Enfolded in His loving arms.
Surrounded by incredible beauty and colour.
Embracing this season.
With joy.
In tears.
Always with gratitude for life.
Be.
Just being Joanna.
I am enough. 
"Be" ENOUGH 