Tag Archives: grief

Be in the Perfect Storm

June 18, 2014 Be Enough Leave a comment

The storm has poured down on me this year, raining on my head, sleet whopping the sides of my face, frozen eyelashes, paralyzing snow. I am in the perfect storm of GRIEF!

Death is disaster.

Devastating.

Debilitating.

Brutal.

I told someone three times in one conversation that I am not going to allow anything bad come from my mom’s life or death. Guess what?

Death is just bad.

Very, very bad.

Sorry, I can’t wrap this one in a pretty pretend ‘good’ package.

Just bad!

Moving sucks.

Lonely.

Agonizing.

Painful.

Trying to find where to get decent produce, gluten free bread and friends that are honest and not too busy flying around like hummingbirds.

Now a teacher’s strike affecting friends, family and dear Sexy Neck.

School ended last Friday for the summer, two weeks early.

The teacher’s strike for class composition, size and wages.

They walk, they wear signs, they do not get paid.

Their journey is honourable.

The negotiations are a schoolyard fight between two people speaking different languages. The teacher’s union and the Government.

The pressure the strike has put on families scrambling for child care and the administration (including Sexy Neck) still left inside the schools is unfathomable.

Most days I don’t ask. Can’t ask.

As I sit deeply in this year of grief layered with mom’s death, moving, watching dad grieve, watching friendships die and now the strike.

“The Perfect Storm” painted over the last week.
Let a new season come upon our family…

Soon?

God, Grief

Be Painting the Door Blue

June 2, 2014 Be Enough 1 Comment

Last week, I had white paint on my arm and a family friend that I don’t see very often asked, “Are you still painting?” Yes, last week it was a white shelf for our basement. This week it was our front door.

I paint when the boys nap or in the evening when they are asleep. I find these ‘down times’ are the hardest times to negotiate without my mom’s presence. The memories and sense of loss come often and quickly these last weeks.

I am still in the boat on the ocean of grief. The waves have been still and the sun on my face, but on the horizon I sense a storm brewing. One year ago was when I first started noticing mom wasn’t well. Last June, we were living with mom and dad as we renovated our house. They went to VCity to help my sister. They had a night away at The Hill spa, but all was not well with mom. She thought she had a bladder infection, but how could we know the path that we were heading down…

So I paint.

I ponder.

I remember.

I keep moving.

Living.

Trying to make sense of a senseless time.

Holding tight to my faith.

My brush.

My day.

One step at a time.

When we lived in Vtown, we had a great intentional friend and neighbour who was very present in our daily lives. Here she is:

Lizzie in her backyard with the boys.

She has the most beautiful blue door. It is stunning with a handmade stained glass window:

I decided our front door needed a pick me up colour. Blue it is!

Before I painted the door I drew hearts for our family and every visitor that comes through the ‘threshold’ wishing us all the fruit of God’s spirit: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and self-control.

Love.

Joy.

Peace.

Patience.

Kindness.

Goodness.

Faithfulness.

Self-control.

I pray that all these qualities roll over and through each of us this day no matter the colour of our door.

Boys, Grief

Be Golfing with Papa

May 27, 2014 Be Enough 1 Comment

My dad loves golf. Two eighteen holes of golf LOVES golfing.

Since his hockey playing days, golf has been a part of his “off-season” life.

In all of our grief, we are trying to meet our dear Papa right where he is at without nana at his side.

This afternoon we met him at the driving range.

Papa loves to teach!

CC (age 4) has been asking every day when he can go golfing with papa.

JC (age 7) loves to swing away.

OC (age 2) tried golf for the very first time. We think he might be a lefty like CC.

Ahhh, that feels better….

Golf.

Time.

Being where you are.

Quiet.

Focus.

One ball at a time.

Boys, cancer, Family, Grief, writing

Be Writing Thank You Notes to New Neighbours

May 22, 2014 Be Enough 4 Comments

As, Jimmy Fallon from The Tonight Show, sits down to write his own thank you notes, I decided to write thank you notes to our new neighbourhood.

Thank you to Jimmy for the inspiration. Here are this evening’s thank you notes by Jimmy. This is my personal twist of sarcasm at its best! Some points are exaggerated for comedic effect, unfortunately most points are not.

🌀Thank you neighbour for leaving your garbage can, recycling can and compost bin at the curb ALL WEEK LONG. We love watching you put your garbage out in your housecoat as well as watch your kids friend’s play bumper cars with the bins as they try to park their cars beside them.

🌀Thank you neighbour for parking your semi-truck on our street every Thursday to Saturday and driving away without any lights on like we don’t see you.

🌀Thank you neighbour for bringing your son over to play then leaving him at our house for two hours fifteen minutes after we met you. We can see why you needed the break.

🌀Thank you neighbour for calling me by the wrong name every morning at exactly 8:15 when you come out to walk your dog. My name is hard to remember, as it is the same as yours.

🌀Thank you neighbour for not smoking inside your house. We appreciate the stench in our yard and throughout our house, especially when you decide to pull out the ‘pot’.

🌀Thank you neighbour for asking my son if he’s “skipping school” when you saw him at home on a school day. Uhhhh, he was sick and he’s six. He had no idea what you were talking about.

🌀Thank you neighbour for standing on your porch in your white undershirt just staring into our yard.

🌀Thank you other neighbour for walking very slowly down our back fence, like you are doing the wedding march with the groom standing in the middle of our backyard. Next time just pop over for a look so that you don’t hurt your neck.

🌀Thank you neighbour for taking off your dog’s leash as you approach our houses so that it can urinate on our lawn then bark at our dog at our gate. Thank you for finally not allowing your dog to come into our house anymore.

🌀Thank you neighbour for telling me that my mom just gave up and wanted to die. I guess the millions of cancer cells multiplying had nothing to do with it.

🌀Thank you neighbour for using pesticides to kill the weeds on the edge of our lawn bordering your property. My boys sperm count thank you.

🌀Speaking of boys, thank you neighbour for exclaiming in front of my family of four boys the very first time we met you, “Oh, I was hoping you were going to have little girls!” Welcome to my family of big boys. (Now perhaps stunted due to your pesticide use).

Family, Grief, writing

Be Purple Footed

May 22, 2014 Be Enough 6 Comments

My heart is holey today.

I wish I could say it is holy.

The death of my mom is feeling large today.

Tears sit at the edge of my eyes.

My heart hurts.

I want to speak to my mom.

I have so many unanswered questions.

I feel an incredible sadness of her not ‘being’ in my everyday life.

It’s a deep purple heartfelt loss.

I choose, today, to slip on Mom’s soft purple Keen’s. (Mom always bought the best shoes and how fortunate am I that the shoes fit!)

One step at a time I tenderly walk through my day…

until…

A friend and her daughter excitedly point at my shoes.

She exclaims, “We have the same shoes! Let’s all wear them tomorrow!” Here they are in their beautiful purple shoes:

Tomorrow, I won’t be wearing my purple Keen’s alone.

My heart aches a little less.

The hole in my heart feels smaller.

I sense God’s holy presence through the coincidence of purple shoes.

Friday morning add-on:
Look what my A friend wore to school drop-off/work today:

Pure awesomeness.

Friendship.

Solidarity.

In grief.

Thank you A, M and Sweet C!!

Boys, Grief, Jesus Christ

Be A ‘Contained’ Pot Gardener

May 20, 2014 Be Enough 5 Comments

Our garden behind us runs wild like children chasing bubbles.

We are sticking with contained spaces this year.

Big projects cannot be harnessed with our little energy.

The wild garden will be ‘fallow’ this year.

We will still garden though.

The coveted Nana pots are brought out and chosen.

“Boys, take as many as you want.”

Pots and plants are carefully chosen.

Photos taken by Sexy Neck as he fixed the clothes line.

Sitting on the grass.

Soil.

Filling our pots.

Filling our souls.

Watering.

Helping our plants grow.

Helping us go deeper.

The sun.

Oh, the son.

Both lights on this earth.

Ever present.

Holding us together.

Plants in a pot.

Secure.

Protected.

Ah, my sons.

Incredibly hardworking, creative, playful…

Gardener’s that Nana would be proud of.

Planted by CC and JC

Planted by Mama and OC

Haha! I just reread my title, we aren’t growing marijuana, just keep everything in pots.

Goals, God, Grief, painting

Be Painting with Small Brushes

May 17, 2014 Be Enough 3 Comments

The walls and kitchen cupboards (photos to come!) of our home are painted.

The outside will have to wait til warmer, more consistent weather.

Time to pick up the small brushes and paints Sexy Neck and the boys bought me for my birthday.

I was out for a sunset walk

and was inspired by these three trees:

They reminded me of my three handsome boys.

I got home, picked up my brushes, started playing with paint colour and off I went.

I thought about my wonderful boys.

I poured out love and joy through the paint.

I felt peace and happiness flowing through me.

I created this with my heart and soul.

Small triumphs.

Being creative.

Soul care.

Letting go.

Laughing that this Type A jock is painting… and loving it.

Freedom.

To be.

Me.

Grief

Be Saying ‘The Long Goodbye’

May 14, 2014 Be Enough Leave a comment

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.