Category Archives: Grief

cancer, Grief, Parenting

Be. Be. Be.

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Be present.

Be listening.

Be open.

What does a mom say when her two year old looks out the car window one Wednesday morning and suddenly yells, “I see Nana in heaven. On the mountain.”?

What do you do that same day when your middle son paints a picture of Nana in heaven? He’s painting her right now.

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And what do you think the next day when you have your oldest son’s friend over and she asks you to put on music and play “It’s a Small World”, my mom’s favourite ride at Disneyland?

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Be present.

Be Listening.

Be open.

I am grateful my children are so assured their beloved Nana is in heaven. I can’t even accept she has died.

I love that my children are so connected to their ever-present Nana that they think to paint her. I can barely look at her photos without being overcome with sadness.

I am blessed that there are so many signs on a daily basis that remind all of us of my mom’s love, kindness and who she was. She was a great human BEing.

Be.

Be.

Be.

cancer, Family, God, Grief

Be Midnight Me

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Last night I wrote the poem below at midnight, not because I wanted to but I am realizing that this is a good time for me to write.

Quiet.

Dark.

Completely present.

Being.

My mind zips along on its hamster wheel of thought.

Writing helps me grab words, themes, feeling and alas the wheel stops.

One year after my mom’s second session of crazy poison chemotherapy, my grief is deep. The benefit of living a year past this moment is that I know the waves won’t consume me, the grief won’t paralyze me and my sleepless nights will end.

Here are my midnight musings:

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Midnight Me

I am a northern girl.

A redneck to some.

I am six feet tall.

A woman.

Imperfectly perfect in His image.

Overflowing with God’s grace.

(Cause He knows I need it!)

I am a Jock.

And an artist.

A mover and shaker.

A beautiful outlaw.

A writer of words.

A bearer of my soul.

A sole bearer.

My heart hurts.

As I ponder.

Watching my best friend.

My mama.

Die.

She has gone ahead of me.

Leading the way to heaven.

My mom’s life and death has re-ignited the gift Jesus gave me at 19.

A reminder.

Freedom to the captives.

Hope.

Grace.

Love.

The rope is frayed.

Split.

Disintegrating.

Nothing holds me back.

Expectations.

Judgement.

To do lists.

I am free!

Glory to God alone who brings freedom to the captives and weaves EVERYTHING together for his goodness.

Boys, God, Grief

Be Holding Tightly to Little Things

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I sense a loosening of many expectations I used to have, a fraying rope.

My grip is also loosening on so many of the things in my own home as I watch my dad go ‘through’ mom’s things.

I am blessed as many of the fantastic clothes mom had fit me. A few of her shoes do too!

I must admit though, that I am holding very tightly to a few little ‘things’: 20140904-225644-82604106.jpgThis is the birthday announcement we put in the newspaper for mom’s 70th birthday on March 30th, 2013.

20140904-225743-82663234.jpgA grocery list from last November.

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The Christmas present tag my mom wrote for me last Christmas. She was very ill before Christmas but she always had her shopping done early!

As I look at the three little pieces of paper I wonder why they are important. I realized it is because they represent the little things.

My mom was excellent because EVERY DAY she did the little things well. She remembered my boys favourite foods and books. She celebrated every little thing – birthdays, first day of school, thanksgiving, Easter, Christmas, plays, practices…. EVERYTHING! My mom always thought of us, how she could help or what she could pick up or when we could get together. Our lives were interwoven. She thought about holidays and how to include everyone. She planned and organized all the details. Mom would often surprise us with beautiful handmade placemats or table runners that she had been working on for months before they were meant to be used.

She was very present for all the little moments. Sometimes, I would walk in my laundry room and find our clean clothes folded. Often she would clean out our hand vac. She always took the dogs for a stroll, just because she liked to think of the little things.

Right now there are a lot of ‘big things’ going on around me that affect our family profoundly (teacher’s strike, mainly).

I am taking a page from my mom’s book of excellence and I am focusing on the little things.

cancer, Grief

Be Saving a Seat for Nana

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I am continually amazed by my children’s insight and childlike faith. I have discovered a deep understanding of the meaning when God asks us to have ‘faith like a child’.

Last night, I shared about the storm that exists for me in my rowboat of grief. I choose to show my grief to Sexy Neck, a few close friends and privately in my laundry room. I don’t expect my children to heal me, distract me or provide for my emotional well being. I sit with them in their grief but don’t expect them to sit with me in mine. But I am always surprised at how God uses them to teach me.

After I wrote yesterday’s blog post, the boys came to get Sexy Neck and I to watch a show. Wasn’t I surprised when I saw three chairs waiting for the ‘Up and Down’ show. The boys seated us and exclaimed as they pointed to the middle chair, “This one is for Nana!”
20140829-120047-43247275.jpg Nana always loved watching the boys shows, school performances and activities.

Childlike faith.

Ever present Nana.

God’s blessing.

Peace.

Love.

cancer, Grief

Be in a Stormy Time

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As the rain pounds the grass in our backyard, so my heart pounds as I think of the past year.

Mom.

Cancer.

Hospital.

Hospice.

Sun.

Tea.

Teaching.

Love.

I am in awe of the blessings that have been poured out over our family as well as the devastation we have faced.   Our family’s foundation has been rocked and the house is not the same.  The death of my mom, our matriach, our organizer, our connector has helped dissolve many relationships and I have been set free.

Free from judgement of who I was.

Free from expectation.

Free from trying to be someone else.

Free to be me!

Today, I sit, lay, kneel, stand in awe knowing that this storm in my rowboat of grief will end.  I have learned this well in the last eight months. I know that the deepness that I feel will continue to keep me rooted and grounded.  And I know that those people God has placed around me will continue to pray, think positive thoughts, remember my mom and will be journeying with us.

One thing that strikes me differently today, is thoughts about mom’s funeral.  This funeral that we literally threw together trying to represent my mom’s love and character.  My mom’s funeral that had mementos along the walls, food at the back, people sitting and children playing.  Mom’s paddleboard and bike sat against a tree on the beach waiting… waiting… waiting.

Perhaps this is a deep time because on Monday, my dad, the boys and I took mom’s paddleboard out for a spin on Kal Lake for the VERY FIRST TIME!   It was hard and rich… just like life!

I am full of gratitude for my family and friends who continue to walk this journey with me.  I am in awe of everyone that stopped their Christmas vacations and spent December 29th, 2013 celebrating my mom.

These photos were provided by my dear friend, Princess Penny:

 

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Here are a few of my “Salty Friends”:

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My two wonderful cousins who have been rocks for me over the last year.  Our family has loved the time we have gotten to spend with them in the last eight months.

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Just a few of my parents “Salty Friends”!

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The children were blessed at mom’s funeral with an outpouring of love, surrounded by incredible people with special toys and balloon animals.

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And of course, lastly stands my Sexy Neck!

My man!

My love.

My pillar of strength.

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Life is devastating at time, rich always and connected to those around us.

Foundations may crack in the storm.

Houses may crumble.

People will stand together and alone in goodness and grief.

God will weave everything together for Good!

I am blessed this stormy day!

Grief, psychology, writing

Be Going Back to the Laundry Room

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The pull of the dirty, messy clothes.

I am a mess!

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The rhythm of the washing machine.

I crave this rhythm!

The quiet cave in the bottom of my house.

I find this time!

A place to rest.

A place to cry.

A place to be.

The first place I went to once we returned to our house after my mom died. (Read at your own risk!)

The place I return to.

Daily.

Allowing myself to feel deeply.

Being filled with my grief.

Sitting in it.

The boat of grief amongst the waves of sorrow.

My feelings are deep.

But I am full of gratitude for these feelings.

For this time of being.

Allowing these feelings to not turn to anger, bitterness or other things that will tie me down.

Each day is a continual letting go.

A releasing.

A moving forward, while grieving the past.

The gift of grief.

I painted this during the quiet of the morning after my bike ride.
Is this my mom’s chalk outline?
Mine?
My old self?
Or something all together different?
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In a stage of unknowing.

Being patient with myself and others.

Giving grace.

Receiving it.

Just being exactly where I am.

In the laundry room

cancer, Grief, writing

Be Going Under

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The waves pour over me.

The grief is profoundly painful.

Tears flows readily.

One year ago, my mom went into the hospital in excruciating pain.

Seventeen days she spent there.

The first time!

Our family was forever changed.

The knots that held my life together were unravelled, split apart and thrown into the fire.

Relationships changed forever.

Expectations shifted.

Pain.

Anguish.

Out of control.

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I will walk through my grief.

I will keep moving.

I know my strength, my weaknesses, my failings, my ways…

I will reach up towards the friends who love and accept me.

I will ride my bike.

I will give myself time and grace.

I will lie down when I need to.

I will not use food to soothe my soul.

I will not watch the news.

I will not put this on my boys.

I will not put my heart into a place where I could be wounded.

I will continue to deal with my stuff.

I will continue to loosen the rope, letting go of expectations.

I will cry.

I will seek God.

I will keep my eyes open for the light.

I will hold on as I go under.

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Boys, God, Grief, Parenting

Be Hearing Night Night from Nana

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I looked out the car window and saw the sun setting through the cloud. I exclaimed, “A slice of heaven!”

Almost three year old OC said, “Nana in heaven!”

Then we had a family discussion on what being dead means.

OC piped up, “Nana talk to me.”

Our seven year old added, “She talks to me too!”

I asked them what does she say.

OC said, “Night night. From her house in heaven.”

Enough said.

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