Clear Skies and a Crisp Night Please

I love fall.

I love the cool nights, the cozy duvets, and the sunny brisk afternoons. Walking the path on a Sunday afternoon and catching a hint of wood smoke in the air. This state of summer-end and autumn brewing in the background is my favourite time of year.

It’s not as though you can swim or ski. You can’t really do much in terms of seasonal sports at this time of year, but there is something about this change in season that evokes warmth and a smile from me.

I have fond memories from when I was about 6 or 7, stacking chords of wood and smelling the woodstove burning for the first time each year. I can remember walking through the byward market on sunny afternoons, buying pumpkins for the doorstep and picking up fall daisies on the way home.

Each year when fall is upon us, I am surprised, but pleased that the memories that are dormant inside me all year long can be easily summoned by a walk in the woods on a sunny morning or a fire nearby in somebody’s woodstove.

A memory that is very close to the surface for me tonight is that of the Light the Night Walk in October of 2006. As you may know, I am fundraising for the 2010 walk to raise money for Leukemia research and I have invited the kids to share this experience with me this year.

I walked the event with Mark that year and it was a perfect evening for it. It was brisk but clear and we walked along English Bay with hundreds of others. I remember noticing the stars for part of the walk and thinking to myself that fall was the perfect time for an event like this. I was in awe of the venue as we walked beside the ocean listening to the waves lapping at the beach. The crisp fall air kept us moving as we made our way back to Stanley Park where the large fir trees waited for us at the finish line. It was a perfect night for it.

As I prepare for this years’ walk I know it will be very different. I’ll have Audrey and Noah at my side this time and Mark in my heart. I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for clear skies and a crisp night...

Click on the link below to see the details for our walk.

http://my.e2rm.com/personalPage.aspx?registrationID=989027

Leavin' on a jet plane...

412 Squadron

Prepare for take off!

Checkin' out the flight deck...and the almighty chocolate bar room!

4th Annual Relish Mark Allan Memorial Golf Tournament

As I sit and type on the plane, Vancouver is fading away to my left. Beautiful sunny big skies with the North Shore Mountains taking their familiar spot on the skyline. The 4th Annual Relish Mark Allan Memorial Golf Tournament was a success. As in past years, it was a day filled with laughter, golf, good times and good friends.

The weather was wet, the greens soggy but the general spirit of the day was not lost. If anything, there was a mood of perseverance to complete a full18 holes on the wettest day Vancouver has seen in nearly 2 months. As we rolled by the clubhouse half way through, there was a thought to pack it in. It was apparent the rain was not going to let up, but the desire to finish overtook and the 4 of us golfed, drank and shivered our way to the end. A full 5 hours in steady rain seemed insignificant as we finished; soaked through by the second hole we were happy to have completed such a feat.

As we drove through the rain and spent the day on the course I couldn’t help but wonder what Mark would have thought about the day. I catch myself wondering this each time I am witness to something amazing. Whether it’s Noah learning how to master a childhood task, or hanging out with friends laughing and having a good time. Things I may have brushed off as ordinary before now have taken on an extra special quality. Sad in one way as they conger up painful reminders that Mark is no longer here, but then I feel the need to scramble to fix the moment permanently in my memory, simply because I am here, and I can.

Spending a weekend with people who knew Mark and thought to come out and celebrate, to me is nothing short of amazing. My emotions have been brimming beneath the surface throughout this weekend thinking about how much I loved living here and the life I once knew. Trying to resist the tendency to think about Mark, especially when I am in Vancouver is something I have come to accept as a wasted effort. There is no separating the two. Thinking and remembering is a sobering exercise, painful as it is, it is one that helps me make more sense out of the present.

I spent the latter part of the game watching (and shivering) more than playing and couldn’t help but notice the birds swooping around our cart as we motored from hole to hole. I don’t ever recall seeing birds come so close or hover around in such a way. It was as though they were following us and keeping us company. Later, sitting in the conservatory listening to speeches as the rain dripped down the panes felt comforting in a familiar sort of way. The weather outside felt just as it did on the day we all said goodbye to him over 3 and half years ago.

In spite of the grey day around us, the room was filled with an air of celebration. I listened as Mark’s friends spoke about him in a less somber sort of way this year. It was nice to feel the weight of his loss lifted just a little bit more as his friends remembered him and played the game that he loved the most.