2009
Tag Archives: mom
Be Asking Me How My Christmas Was
Ah, dear friends, my heart aches tonight.
My heart aches for my dad who has lost his wife. His retired plans shattered.
My mind hurts for my children who will not be able to experience my mom’s continual thoughtfulness, laughter and excitement for birthdays, back to school and activities.
My body is numb thinking about our future without my mom.
BUT today it also hurts for a lovely woman God has brought into our lives through our children’s schools.
We moved in the summer to KCity, the next day mom was diagnosed with cancer, 5 hospital visits, about 27 days overall in the hospital and mom dying on Boxing Day sums up the last five months. Ah ya, also must add in unpacking a new house, finding activities for the boys, where to get stamps, two weeks of pneumonia for me plus a family bout of stomach flu.
Back to today! S, the lovely lady works at JC’s school. I ran into her today as i went into the main building to drop off a cheque. She was her usual bubbly self and she threw out, “How was your Christmas?”

My mind stopped. My throat went dry. I thought to myself, am I going to be honest or give the canned answer of “Fine, how was yours?”
I looked at her genuine smile and realized only the truth would do. I answered, “Not great! My mom died!” Her empathy was immediate and caring. She rolled with my answer and didn’t flee (like my neighbours have been doing).
She provided a moment to sit with me in my grief. What a gift from a very lovely woman.
Thank you S! I hope I haven’t instilled a fear in her asking how people’s Christmas’s were.
Be Living With Irony
In the last six months, I have endured the most devastating and richest time of my life.
I am living through metaphors and irony daily. I should have paid more attention in English Twelve so that I could figure this all out.
Irony, ironic, paradoxical.
Sitting where I am today, I know that I will never be able to ‘make sense’ of my mom’s cancer journey and death.

But I will look at the irony and beauty that has come from this beast of a year.
The irony that the hard times are when you find your deep friends, the ones that you can never repay, come be at your side, feel free to weep with on a daily basis and organize decorations from 500 kilometres away for mom’s funeral without question.
The letting go of people that just don’t get what you are going through and the deepening of friendships of those that know the profound earth shattering feeling of losing your mom.
The yanking apart of my family so that I could be at Mom’s side.
The incredible pillar of strength deep within my husband so that he could be all things for me and the boys when we needed it throughout this entire journey. Sexy Neck has a deep, deep well. What a gift he has been.
My dad, oh my dad. We were close before we went to war to help mom, but now we have an honesty and camaraderie that makes us teammates and friends.
Sweet victory.
Sad loss.
Richness.
Devastation.
Beauty.
Beast.
Life.
Death.
Light.
Darkness.
Irony.
Living in it, through it, with it, every day!
Be Seeing Nana’s Light While Skiing
We spent the morning x-country skiing. I debated on whether to keep our oldest out of school so that we could stay together as a family.
The debate ended when we crested the hill coming around Sovereign towards the Jungle trail and we saw this sight:

I had to lie down in the snow when JC exclaimed, “Nana’s light!”
Thank God for children, skiing, nature and Nana’s light.
Be Sharing a Sweet Story About Mom
Thanks D!
Be Sharing your Story – Katie
It is with honour and gratitude that I introduce our guest blogger today, Katie!
Katie’s the beautiful blonde holding the cutie in light pink in this photo.

We have journeyed through motherhood together as our oldest children are only months apart. Her daughter being a few months older than JC. We have now journeyed through our mom’s having cancer. Her mom being diagnosed two seasons before mine. Her mom is on the right of this photo. They celebrated a wonderful Christmas together as a family!
I feel humble gratitude for Katie going ahead of me on this crazy cancer journey with my mom. I really appreciate all our parking lot conversations and hugs!
Here’s Katie’s story:
I first met Joanna at Baby Talk (a parenting group here in Vernon), over 6 years ago. I think we literally had our babies in our arms when we first met. JC was maybe 3 weeks old, and my daughter was 2 months old.
Then our babies grew into pre-schoolers, and they went to the same pre-school together. Because the pre-school relied heavily on parent (and grandparent!) volunteers, both my mom and Joanna’s mom volunteered often at the pre-school. I know the kids loved it when a grandparent got to volunteer. It seemed to be something extra special. (I think all the kids even called them Nana!)
Before we knew it, pre-school was done and it was time for our oldest “babies” to start Kindergarten. It was September 2012, and my daughter and JC began Kindergarten at the same elementary school. It was an exciting time. Then a week into that school year, my mom was diagnosed with terminal colon cancer. I remember explaining to Joanna this devastating news when I first found out my mom was sick. For some reason I remember telling Joanna in the school parking lot. I could barely say the word “cancer” out loud. It was too new, too raw of a feeling. At the time I didn’t know anything about cancer. I struggled with the thought of losing my mother, and I struggled with the challenge of being present for my own two daughters at the same time.
I remember seeing Gwen volunteer in JC’s kindergarten class that Fall. I loved seeing this energetic, smiling Nana stroll the halls at the school. A couple of months later, Winter 2012, I would see Joanna, Steve and the boys skiing up at Sovereign Lake. And quite often I would see Gwen with them. As I watched this amazing, active Nana walk around the lodge, I remember wishing my mother was healthy enough to take on an activity like cross country skiing. My mother was only an hour away in Kelowna, but while I watched Gwen I remember missing my mother terribly. Even though my mother was only an hour away in Kelowna, at home, I was already grieving.
Flash forward to Spring, 2013. Joanna shared her concerns about her mom, and the change in Gwen’s health. I think Joanna also told me this in the school parking lot. (It’s funny what you remember when you’ve had intense conversations) Over the next few weeks I did my best to share with Joanna some parts of my mother’s cancer journey. I told her what I knew about chemo, blood tests, markers, anxiety, oncologists, social workers, CT scans, etc. It’s steep learning curve if you’ve never encountered all of this terminology before.
I think it is a strange and powerful grief when you learn your mother is terminally ill, and that one day she will not be around to “mother” you anymore, to share things with, to watch her be with your own children. Because we are mothers. And yet we are also daughters who need our own mothers. And although I didn’t know your mom well Joanna, I’m sure she was extremely proud of you as her daughter, and who you’ve become as a person, and as a mother.
Be Asking Questions
There is never a bad question.
We have instilled this concept in our boys. I am not sure how this would work if you have a wee one with the gift of the gab, but for us it has worked. Almost 100% of the time we take time to answer their questions. We try to answer as honestly as we can. Sometimes we simply answer, “I don’t know!”
Friday, December 20th, sitting on Nana and Papa’s couch, we sat as a group. I shared that Nana is going to die. We said we didn’t know when, but that Hospice House is a place where people go to die peacefully.
JC (6 yrs old) wept and curled in our arms. CC (4 yrs old)started asking questions. OC (2 yrs old) stared at us with his wondrous eyes.
Daddy will Nana die?
Does she know if she’s going to die?
Will she get better?
What is cancer anyways?
Why didn’t the 4th chemotherapy work?
How do the little cells do that?
Why can’t the doctors find a cure?
Do they need more money?
Why did they cut off Terry Fox’s leg?
How do you get cancer?
What will happen to Nana’s shoes?
How will we say I love you to Nana when she dies?
Where is heaven?
What is going to happen to Nana’s shoes?
No bad questions.
No good answers.
Sitting in sadness.
Be Remembering Mom(New Year Goals)
This journey through cancer with my mom has been a rich and horrific time. Watching my mom deal with pain on a daily basis, seeing her fortitude to choke back elephant size pills (we both hate taking pills!) and all of us trying to figure out what to do to help when there is really nothing you can do stretched me beyond my limits most days.

Today, my journey has been to look through old photos to try to remember what my beautiful mom looked like pre-cancer.
The light in my mom’s eyes never faded. They were strong and clear and loving until the last morning when she said, “Hi” to me. Her muscles atrophied and her weight faded, but her determination did not. Every day she set a goal for herself, some days it was just to eat more protein, others it was to put one foot on the floor beside her bed and lastly it was to have that one drink of thirst-quenching water.
What goals do you have for this New Year?
My goals are simple:
– Live one day at a time.
– Look into the eyes around me.
– Live my life with determination, just like my mom.
I love you Mama. I miss you dearly and I can’t imagine my life without you. BUT I have learned a lot from you and I take these things into my new year. I love you Mama. I miss you so much.







