Tag Archives: grief

Be Saying Goodbye to Orange 

I am not sure what happened, but I am going with it.  

Yesterday, I decided to was done with our orange walls.  They served their purpose. They helped me wail and gave me a place to ‘put’ my grief.  

Here is the story of the orange walks.  

After celebrating my birthday, I knew my pain had turned to peace.  So, I picked up a brush and roller this morning and began to pain.  

   

I was able to talk to my boys about the  pain I felt when Nana died.  I told them that painting this wall orange helped me.   I told them I wanted to paint this wall white today because of the peace, love and joy that surrounds us now. 

Peace.  

Love.  

Joy. 

Now back to the wall to no longer wail but to have a whale of a time doing something my mom loved to do.   

  Thank you God for giving me perseverance to deal with my stuff and to have such a supportive partner.  

Be Knowing God is with YOU 

Two friends are sitting by their mama right now as she recovers from surgery to remove cancer from her breast.  

Living in the unknown. 

Another friend is at home trying to grasp the sudden death of a thirty something neighbour.  She was one of the first on the scene.  

Living with the unknown.  

Yet another friend contemplates leaving a job that has almost destroyed her yet she felt called to do.  

Just not knowing which way to go.  

And today I went to the store to buy a dish dryer.   I didn’t find one.  

A few hours later, I was riding my bike down the road and look what was lying on the side of the road:  

  

A very small daily reminder that God knows my needs and He is with Me. 

Living in the unknown?

Living with the unknown? 

Not knowing which way to go?

Just take one step.  

And another.  

Listen.  

Look around you.  

You will be amazed at what you see. 

And what if you don’t see? 

Ask God to help you?  

He loves you.  

Be Me with My Peeps 

I love people.  

Always have.  

Always will. 

Them my peeps.  

I would not have survived the last sixteen months without.  

You know who you are! 

I was told that the hole my mom left in my life would never heal but that people would lean and the hole wouldn’t be so humongous.  

I agree with this analogy.  

Because of my peeps.  

The strange thing that happened on this journey the last sixteen months is that I also learned to be okay with myself.    

  

No more people pleasing.  

Be with people because it is pleasing.  

 Using my gifts.  

Being quiet when I need to.  

Saying ‘no’ and being okay.  

Letting go of relationships that are hurtful and judgemental.  

Allowing myself to feel.  

Allowing myself to be me.  

I am forever grateful for the gifts my mom has given me through her life and her death.  

I have never been so blessed in my entire life than I am right now!  

 

Be Celebrating Your Mom’s Birthday 

Last year, it was lemon meringue cake, dinner as a family and sending balloons up to Nana in heaven.

This year, it is receiving a beautiful phone call from my mom’s friend’s Donna and Wendy, a morning text from Sexy Neck and a great friend in KCity plus I took an afternoon bike ride.  



It is tears.  

It is joy.  

It is shattering grief and living life all wrapped up in pieces of mom’s birth day.  

I don’t know how to do any of this!  

How does one celebrate a day that they’ve always celebrated with a woman that they love celebrating when that woman is no longer with you? 

So, I bike. 

I sit.  

I cry.  

I look at reminders, especially this one I created one month ago that reminds me of the great roots my parents gave me.  



The waves of grief no longer pushes me underwater until I can’t breathe, but I am still on the boat, rowing in this grief, learning about myself and filled with deep gratitude for how present, wonderful and loving my mom was.  

I wish I could get a piece of that back! 

Be Treading Water 

When you’re in the middle of the ocean, when you can’t seem to find a place to set your foot or something to grab onto, the best thing you can do is just tread water.



Keep your head up. 

Kick your legs.  

Move your arms around and around and around.

It’s pretty hard to notice the beautiful bird that flies by or the duck-shaped cloud above your head when you’re treading water. You can’t see the beautiful turtle swimming underneath you.  

It’s also difficult to have the person treading water beside you telling you what to do or give feedback.

The very best thing you can do, is just be with them. 

Try to find a rhythm. 

Ask God to be with your friend.  

Try to encourage them. 

Ask God to help you. 

Try to deal with your own thing you have going on.

Most of us are treading water in our daily lives.  

Over scheduled.  

Stretched in our finances and head over heals in debt. 

Always striving for more and better.  

No time to be with your chosen partner in a meaningful way, as the details of life almost push you over. 

Unable to attend to your children’s  needs because imagine how hard it is to tread water with a child holding onto you? 

We are really unable to do or see anything except the water enveloping us.  

I have treaded water during my November midterms in my first year of University.   To say that I coasted through high school, would be a mild understatement.  

I barely had my head above water my first year of teaching in a wonderful country school one hour away from my home.  

My body and mind were working hard when I had our firstborn son and caught mastitis.  I now joke that this should be a weapon of mass distraction.  Forget bombs, mastitis would level the strongest man.  

And now I have just come out of a season of treading water in the waves of grief.  A year and a half ago we moved cities, the day after this move my mom was diagnosed with cancer and we watched her die five months later.  Many relationships I had also died during this season. 

Now, I can finally really see and feel what is going on around me.  Isn’t hindsight wonderfully freeing? 

I now feel very deeply for those I see treading water around me.  

I don’t have much to offer but I do know what has helped me.  

Let go of the non-essentials.   What do you really need in your life? 

Lean in to those who love you.  Who accepts you for who you are and love you unconditionally?  

Hold on to memories made and to be made.   Can you look at old photos or picture a future holiday in your mind? 

Move you body in some way every day.  What gets your heart beating and legs moving? 

Eat to be fit, not for feelings.   Do you like to stuff your feelings with food?  I did and it didn’t make me feel any better.  

Hold on.  

Strap yourself in.  

God is the ‘Life preserver’. 

Ask Him for help, for wisdom and for guidance on the path of life. 

You are not alone.  

You were wonderfully created. 

In the messiness of life, your imperfect ways are a gift.  

Let go of perfection.  

Let go of the vision that your home will look like an one hour fixer-up reality tv show and your body like the cover of a magazine.  This is not real life! 

Give what you can.  

Be where you are.  

Be who you are. 

Be enough.  

One.  

Day.  

At. 

A. 

Time.  

Be Skiing Through Your Grief

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.

2015/01/img_8179-0.jpg
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.

2015/01/img_8180.jpg

Be Skiing Through Your Grief

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.

2015/01/img_8179-0.jpg
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.

2015/01/img_8180.jpg
Every day.

Making a choice.

To ski through his grief.

I love you dad!

Be on a Threshold

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.”

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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.