Tag Archives: cancer

Falling Snow and Fluttering Butterflies (10th Anniversary of the Legacy my Mom Left)

Reliving ten years ago these last few weeks has been a very tender and vulnerable experience for me. I have cried more times than I can count. I have felt so much sadness seeing grandchildren with their grandparents as it has showcased such a profound loss that my sweet boys have endured these last ten years with losing both their Nana and Grandma alongside watching how their Papa’s grieved. I have felt like a failure as I have tried to weather all these big feelings while being a present wife, parent, employee, colleague, neighbour…all while preparing for Christmas. The circle of support around me, again, I have purposely made smaller so that I can show up entirely authentically, just as I am, in this messy human experience that we call grief. (Any other grief sojourners strongly dislike these three words: How are you?) Our golden doodle, Winnie, has been especially close to me, often with her head on my foot (or on my lap when she gets invited on the couch!). 

Today is ten years since I wrote these words below. My mom, aka Super Nana’s, presence is still felt on a daily basis and her legacy truly does live on through our five lives and many others who knew her. For this I am extremely grateful. Thank you to my “salty” friends who have walked these years with us step-by-step in person and with us from afar. You mean the world to us. Thank you to everyone reading my words today, I am incredibly grateful for you.

I love you,

xoxo Joanna

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Crisp fresh fallen snow as I step outside.

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Dad has been by her side throughout.

He watched her last breaths.

Dad greets me at mom’s door.

There are beautiful butterflies on the door. (This is hospice’s symbol that the room is not to be disturbed).

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My big cousin by my side.

We step through the door.

Peace enfolds.

Mom is warm and quiet.

She is wearing a shirt with butterflies on it. (I think I need to lie down with all these symbols of snow and butterflies!)

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Her body is at rest.

Death has come to her body.

Thursday, December 26th, 2013 at 7:00am.

Kisses, kisses and more kisses.

I lay my head in her arm in disbelief.

In peace.

I lap up her presence.

I am enveloped by her love.

Tears slide down my cheeks.

My sister arrives.

We walk to the hospice living room.

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We light a butterfly light.

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Place mom’s special card on the mantle.

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M reads Psalm 23.

Dad talks about his sorrow and gratitude.

The boys arrive to an empty room.

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OC says. “Nana with God.”

A red rose is on the counter.

We say our goodbyes.

On the memory Christmas tree we write Nana’s name and we take an angel home for our tree.

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Then we lace up our skates and head out into the outdoors that Nana loved dearly.

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I love you mama!

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Be Having a Transplant after trying some Bandaids

Within the last six months our family’s life has flipped upside down.

🚴🏻‍♀️ This morning on my bike ride, I was thinking about this transformation and the best metaphor that my mind could come up with was living with a really “bad oweee” (or hurt place) and healing it with bandaids versus having a transplant.

Ten years and one month ago we moved to K-City. The boys were almost 2, 4 and 6 years old. The day after we moved, my mom was diagnosed with cancer and I spent the next six months doing all that I could to support her and my dad, while living in a new city with very young children. At this time my family of origin was unravelling before my eyes. I have an older sister and that’s all I would say about that plus a father whom simply wasn’t coping well with a partner who “did it all”, but now was dying before his eyes.

After my mom and Super Nana died, I gained weight and lost it. I was alone and lonely. I taught at an online school, substitute taught at our local public schools, taught physical education and also ventured into the business world as an entrepreneur selling two different products. I supported Sexy Neck as he moved from high school to middle school, to being in charge of an International program an hour away and then our local International program within K-City. Steve’s mom died as well as his beloved grandparents, and uncle. We said goodbye to our sweet Labrador, Summer and said hello to our Goldendoodle, Winter. I did all this on top of taking care of our beautiful, busy, athletic three boys while trying to make friends in a new city, be good friends to those I knew and going through a grieving process that is still often difficult to put into words.

Throughout this last decade, I was using a lot of bandaids.

Bandaid #1: Exercise was one of my favourite. Did you know that I was training for an Ironman when Covid hit? I was training over 20 hours per week during those years after I did a 70.3 triathlon (half Ironman) in 2018. Yup, exercise was a great bandaid for me to keep me going.

Bandaid #2: Busyness – By simply rocking my to-do list, I was able to hold things together. The list was never ending as I did 90% of the things around our home and it made me feel like I was “getting” somewhere, but really getting nowhere. It was just a bandaid.

Bandaid #3: Going down the social media “scroll hole”. I am not sure if this is an entrepreneurial thing, but social media because a bit too much for me throughout the middle part of this last decade. I would spend hours on Instagram or Facebook. I would plan what I wanted to share and it began to takeover my mind in many ways. Sidenote: I am very, very glad that I didn’t live in the era of social media as a teen. I think that would have really messed me up mentally. Comparison is truly the thief of joy.

I am not saying that Bandaids are a bad thing. They got me to where I am today and helped me realize what I wanted my life to look like on a daily basis. I now believe we need to rip these bandaids off to do the true, deep transplanting that our bodies, mind and spirits needs.

Over these last six months, I have gotten a transplant.

Transplant #1: Both Sexy Neck and I have changed jobs. Steve stepped down and I stepped up to serve our schools in unique and fun manners. We are both blessed to be able to serve teachers, students and their families in very interesting ways. It has been transformative for us both.

Transplant #2: We have started to share the responsibilities around the house and the boys are helping more. We are living in the “15 minutes per day” of everyone “helping the family” and we are finding a great rhythm to help our home hum with happiness and peace. It is waaaaaaay better than having one person, namely moi, do it all! Even going through the busiest week of the year last week, we had a tremendous seven days with no major stress or meltdowns. We were “humming”.

Transplant #3: I took social media off my phone and it hasn’t come back on. I barely exist on there anymore and I feel more present and peaceful in my daily life. I hear from friends in different ways now, in a more one-on-one authentic way. I have also let many “friends” go virtually and physically. My heart is happy.

Transplant #4: This summer, we watched our city go through a horrid wildfire where over 200 people lost their homes and our church camp, that the boys were at weeks before, burnt to the ground. This made us reflect on many things, including our physical needs, what we value and our ongoing spiritual life with Jesus.

Transplant #5: Sexy Neck and I joined a gym. We are simply committed to going 30 minutes, 3 times a week. It is a beautiful balance for us to get off the metaphorical treadmill and simply enjoy throwing around some weights and being together. Just like Goldilocks, not too much, not too little, just right. It is a major transplant for two recovering high performance athletes who have gotten grossly “out of shape”.

In ALL ways, physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally and professionally, it has been a transformative transplant. I feel like the bandaids in all areas of our lives have been ripped off and as a family we are experiencing a “transplant”. There is a newness to our lives, almost like we are moving to Kelowna for the first time, but this time we are healed and whole and not simply living in a deep hole of grief. I am excited to see what God has in store for us in this next decade.

If you are in the state of slapping on some good old bandaids, I hope you know that that works. For the season you are in, the bandaids will hold things together, but hold hope for the transplant. Sitting where I am today, I have to tell you that this is a pretty sweet place to be within my mind, body and spirit. Not perfect, but I feel like I can breathe again.

Bandaids.

Helping

Holding.

Breathe.

Hope.

Newness.

Wholeness.

Transplant.

And that’s all for me on this Sunny Sunday. I pray that you love what you do.

xoxo Joanna

Be Framing Your Job with One Thought

 My one thought about my job today: I can be replaced in a minute.  The leadership of my school is so remarkable, I could probably be replaced in less than a minute.

Yes, it’s true for me and for you.  No one is irreplaceable in their work.

I recognized this shortly after my mom died and I fully grasped that she was truly irreplaceable.

Gone forever.

Never to be replaced.

Yes, we have had phenomenal people “fill in the vast gap” my mom left, but no one can restore her place in our lives as a mom and super nana.

A job is a unique arena of life as we all need to find ways to house and feed ourselves, but this great loss made me understand the temporality of work and life.

This morning, I am interviewing for a new job for the next school year. I am taking this mentality into my interview and I feel free.

Free to ponder.

Free to choose.

Free to open the door and see if this new opportunity will help me be a better wife, mom, friend, teacher and human being living on this earth.

Free to live!

So folks, as you ponder this next year ahead of you, what would you change if you knew you could be replaced in your job tomorrow, but never be replaced as a mother, father, daughter, brother, sister, cousin…?

Here temporarily.

Never to be replaced within your “family”.

Have an epic Tuesday and love what you do.

xoxo Joanna

Be Asking Your Mom Five Questions

I love it when “not-so-random” moments come across my path.

I have been experiencing some deep grief moments about my mom lately as her birthday is tomorrow. She would have been 80 years young this year. Man, she was epic. Did you know that six months before she died she was on a cycling tour in Mallorca riding more than 90 kilometres each day? Did you know that I never cycled long distances with my mom? I took up cycling about two years after she died.

One of the best memories involving my mom was when I was playing in the backyard with our three boys, all under the age of 4. My mom came through the side gate all sweaty and red-faced pulling in her bike beside her. She say, “Hi, I just popped in for some water!” I asked her where she rode today. She stated that she had just ridden to Enderby and back, a mere 70 kilometres (@44 miles) and then went into the house to get some water. She was always doing crazy things like that that seemed like a walk in the park to her. My mom was an exceptional athlete, teacher, friend, mom and so humble too!

Back to the reason for this post: My “not-so random” moment this week was when I stumbled across this article about a daughter who lost her mom and the five questions that she would have liked to ask her.

I have been pondering my own five questions and here they are:

  1. What legacy/memories/values do you want to leave for your grandsons and great-grandchildren? (We will always talk about you Super Nana!)
  2. What did your body go through as you moved through menopause?
  3. Are you afraid to die? What are your thoughts on dying?
  4. What parenting advice would you give me as I move through the different ages and stages with the boys?
  5. What are some of your best memories as a child, other than Jimmy the horse?

And that’s all folks. Be sure to hug those people you love and ask the questions that are on your own heart to the people that matter most.

Have an epic Wednesday and love what you do.

xoxo Joanna

Be Moving Back to Vernon

These last few months, I have been thinking that our family needs to move back to Vernon…. almost ten years here in K-City and, well, I am not sure what to say about it. In the last three months, I have ran into four friends from Vernon at Costco, the ski hill, for walks and I have realized the deepness of these friendships I really miss.

I miss those friends who:

~ knew me before I was a mom

~ knew my own mom

~ I spent time working with and on vacation with

~ walked through years of change involving birth and death

~ did Music classes with me when the boys were in preschool. (Such a sweet season)

Ten years ago we made the decision to move here as Steve was commuting to K-City, 45 minutes away from our house in Vernon, and he was seeing very little of us due to long hours and evening meetings. One day, yup one day, after we moved to K-city my mom was diagnosed with cancer. Five months later she had died.

As I sit down and have a serious conversation with the family about moving back to Vernon, the boys are all a “hard no”. They were 2, 4 and 6 when we moved to K-City and this is really home for them. They have activities they love, a neighbourhood that loves on them and freedom to move around the city with confidence.

And now I remember a story from a wise uncle. Uncle John owned a fabulous apartment near Commercial Drive in Vancouver. He decided that he wanted to live a bit more freely and travel more than he already did. He sold the Commercial Drive apartment and moved into a great rental apartment on Chestnut Street beside the Burrard Street bridge and one block from the beach. His views were incredible and the accessibility to Vancouver was amazing. If I lived in Vancouver, this is the area I would want to live.

Uncle John loved living in this apartment building and weathered the loss of his parents and his sister. His entire family of origin died in a these short few years. Then Uncle John heard that his old apartment was for sale again, after being fully renovated. He jumped at the chance “to go back”. He rebought his old apartment, moved in and realized he had made a terrible mistake. He had bought the apartment “to go back” to a time where his parents and sister were alive. He wanted to truly turn back time. After a few short months, he resold his apartment on Commercial Drive for a second time and again moved back into his amazing rental apartment overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He was really happy and realized that you never can go back.

…and now as I ponder our family moving back to Vernon, his story has become my own. Why do I want “to go back” to Vernon? It is mostly because I want “to go back” to a time when my mom was alive and we had a wonderful circle of support around us. These have been lonely few years that have developed a deep well of resiliency and perseverance on my part raising three young men without that close support and encouragement as a mom. Even today when I receive a compliment on my role as a mother, I am always surprised because it is so rare. It often brings me to tears.

So we won’t be moving back to Vernon. The show must go on in K-City for this mom of three boys now ages, almost 16, 13 and 11. BUT, you never know where we will end up once the boys are graduated and finding their own paths in life.

Have a wonderful Wednesday and love what you do.

xoxo Joanna

Be Leaving a Legacy (5th Anniversary)

December 26th, 2013 7:00am

The lady that will leave the largest legacy in my life left the earth.

Five years ago.

She breathed her last breath.

My dad at her side.

My boys and I sleeping at her house.

December 26th, 2018 7:00am

I set an alarm.

I woke and took a deep breath.

I began to ponder this adventure we have created these last five years and I must admit that I am shocked it has been five years living on this earth without my mama.

Some days, my breath gets taken away with grief and it seems like just moments ago that I was told that my mom had died. Other days, it feels like she has been gone for a hundred years. It truly is like the disciple Peter says: “With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. “

On days like today, I am able to look back and see five distinct legacies that my mom created for me and my boys:

  1. My Mama was thoughtful! She was incredibly present with her people and truly saw how she could add value to their everyday life. She used her “spidey sense” to buy the best gifts. She really saw people and what they needed. Most days, she was the gift people needed.
  2. My Mama was a “mover”! She was cycling in Mallorca, Spain eight months before she died, cycling up to 90km per day. If she said that she was going to do something, she did it. Plain and simple. Joanna, “I was to learn Spanish!” Boom, at 65 years old she signed herself up for a Spanish class. My Mama was an athlete her whole entire life from living on the farm, to playing basketball, to being one of the first moms to join a gym and finally her passion for cycling, hiking and cross country skiing. My mama was woman of her word and a mover to boot.
  3. My Mama was creative! Whether it was when she was quilting, creating in the kitchen or working in her garden, my mom always added her own flare to what she was doing. She was never afraid to try new recipes or create something with our boys, even if it involved sparkles. My Mama was a creator.
  4. My Mama was not perfect! She was the person who gave me permission to be perfectly imperfect. I saw her shed tears over the things that her relatives chose to do to her and I saw her unsure at how to respond. I saw her get angry and apologize. I heard her speak about other people and also then apologize. I watched her when I was younger as she moved jobs and share what it was really like to work as a teacher in an antiquated system. My Mama was a human “being”.
  5. My Mama was LOVE! At 7:00am in the morning when the boys wanted to watch cartoons, she would let them crawl into bed with her. Whenever we showed up at her front door, my Mama always gave the very best hugs and made space for us in her life. Every time, I needed to talk with her, she listened. She listened really, really well. Time. Hugs. Listening. And so much more than my simple words can convey. Who could ask for anything more? Pure love!

Today on December 26th, we put on our skinny skis and went down the nordic trails to remember my Mama and my boys’ super Nana. We talked about the legacy that she has left for each of us. We cried. We laughed. We sent a balloon up to heaven. In rememberance. As a symbol of our connectness and the legacy that will never leave each of us.

With gratitude for every moment that I could spend with my Mama here on earth.

For the legacy she left.

With gratitude for the Mama that I now get to be for my boys.

For the legacy I will leave.

Thoughtful.

Mover.

Creative.

Imperfect.

LOVE.

And the greatest of these is love.

Unconditional.

Unwavering.

Unforgettable.

LOVE.

Remembered on the trails today.

And every day as we live out our legacy now!

Leave a beautiful, imperfectly perfect legacy my friends.

Love, Joanna

Be Living A Brut-iful Life!

img_8886 As I sit, ponder and let my mind wander, I think of all of you reading this 2017 message. Each of my Facebook friends and all 996 of you that follow my blog. I want to pour out extra love to everyone going through their sprinkling of brutal and beautiful as I did three years ago.  Couldn’t that be all of us?  Isn’t life imperfectly perfect?  What a brut-iful life we are living here in the stunning Okanagan Valley!  A sprinkle of brutal, but ALWAYS beautiful!

Three years ago, I walked with my mom as she was being released into heaven.  I walked as a daughter, an advocate, a pain reliever, a massager, a water getter, a midwife and had to make phone calls that I never thought I would have to, I think back at how brut-iful these moments were.  Brutal moments where I just have to lie down and cry and beautiful moments where I lie down and rejoice!  All magically weaved together into living each day with the gift of grief.

My boys were playing in their “Astronomer’s Lair” a few days ago, and I was very surprised to walk in and see them playing with old Tupperware bins.   I experienced one of my brut-iful moments when they proceeded to inform me that the extra bed was a place for their beloved Nana.  It was a lying down rejoicing and crying kind of moment!  The boys were 2, 4 and 6 when my marvelous Mama went to heaven, but she is still very much present in our lives!   It is slowly moving from brutal memories into beautiful moments.  Don’t underestimate your power to leave an impact on peoples lives!

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As I send  you wishes for an healthy, energetic, adventurous 2017 filled with dreams, may you savour all your brut-iful moments knowing that they are neither good nor bad, they just are.

Day by day.

Beautiful.

Brutal.

Memory-Making.

Healthy.

Living EVERY day.

Brut-iful living.

Brut-iful life!

Smooch, Joanna

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Be Walking out your Grief 

It is such a privilege to walk with someone and hear their story about living through the death of their precious mama.  

This is a treasure. 

It is an incredible gift to hear how someone is truly feeling about their life on any given day because of packed scheduled, presentations, or sleepless nights. 

This is rich.  

It is profound to get to know so many people negotiating grief while experiencing divorce, death, dog bites, loss of jobs, moving… The list is endless.  

This grief journey is priceless. 

I am blessed to be having these deep conversations on a daily basis now that I have been sitting in my own gift of grief. 


I am now learning to walk it out.  

Honesty, most days I still want to hide.  

I am broken inside. 

I am softer and more affected by life.  

My heart leaks out of my eyes at unexpected moments, like today when beautiful Crystal told me she was proud of me.  

I want to lie on my laundry room floor and pray and wonder and ponder and rest.  

But, I know I need to walk it out. 

My lying down days are gone.  

I have lying down moments, like today in Superstore, which I still really enjoy. They no longer need to humble me for the whole day. 

I get out and walk. 

I talk. 

I swim. 

I write and play with words.  

I run. 

And I talk to people, lots of them because I love people.  

I bike.  

I workout.  

I do this to keep working things out. 

My body moves. 

My relationships grow. 

My minds ponders.  

My gift of grief keeps unpacking itself.  

Into this deep place where I am now able to have the privilege to walk with others.  

In their grief.  

On their own personal journey.  

Walking it out.  

What a blessing. 

I am blessed.  

I am enough. 

Each breathe. 

Each day.  

I am enough.