Dear Mr. G

You have a way of sneaking back into my everyday when I am just fine. Really, really, fine. It irritates me and corrupts my joyful mood, with a thump. (Ask Audrey and Noah, they are my unlucky, innocent bystanders.) You have a way of doing that. I am growing to resent your sneaky ways. I used to be thankful in the early days for the relief from you. I’d have a few consecutive days where I realized that you were not a constant and I smiled at this. I could operate and be “un-grief-like”; I’d go so far as to say, downright chipper.

This process of shedding you unconsciously came about at it’s own pace. No amount of willing it would do any good; I learnt this lesson early on. I felt triumphant when I did more than just muddle my way through the conversation that makes most people stare at the floor when you answer “No, I’m not married…(long pause)…I’m widowed" I filled the silence and made it okay that they asked an innocent question.

Today…
You crept back in and I’m sick of you. I’m sick of your little reminders that make me feel alone when I am not. I tire of the surprise visits and the popping in when I’m doing regular mom stuff. Carving pumpkins, making dinner, mediating the relentless bickering of children, you know…regular everyday things. Why do you need to pinch me just to hang out for the afternoon and leave that bitter, ripped off taste in my mouth? Enough already.

I don’t need any reminders that you are still here. I was there, remember? Grief has no finish line. Jerk. I’m rebuilding my life and I don’t need to feel thankful that you’re not my everyday anymore. Just give it a rest and let me nudge myself forward when I want to.

Got that??
Beat it grief.

I didn't need you today, come back some other day if you must.

Yours truly,
Leslie

Ps. Sorry I called you a jerk.

Nightlights

It’s been nearly a week since we attended the Light the Night Fundraiser and the last few days have been filled with memories from years past. Our team, “Just Keep Swimming” was very successful in raising money for the Leukemia Lymphoma Society this year, we nearly reached our ambitious goal of $2000. The messages I sent seemed barley adequate to express my gratitude to those of you who supported our fundraising efforts.

I couldn’t find the right words to express all that I have been carrying in my thoughts these last few weeks. I watched proudly as Audrey and Noah got excited at the prospect of raising money for leukemia research. Their loss and sadness was not tied to these efforts. They didn’t pair this event to a sad day in their lives; they pounced on the opportunity to find something fun and positive about it all. I was amazed at their enthusiasm.

I was reticent to even propose such a thing to them. Thinking the whole time, how do I expose them to such an emotionally loaded situation? Most kids in our neighbourhood are selling chocolate bars for the local bowling league while mine are soliciting donations in memory of their Dad?? This seemed wrong on so many levels. I began to feel angry and sad that this was their reality and questioned my involving them at all. Wondering, and again doubting my judgment as to whether they were ready for something like this.

As this week has unfolded, I have come to think that maybe it was my own vulnerability that I was afraid of exposing, not so much theirs. I am afraid to see my kids hurt, they have had a lifetime worth of pain in their little lives. I am afraid to see my kids cry and miss their Dad; it breaks my heart to watch and feel it unfold. I feel helpless at times knowing that my hugs are not enough to fill the void

Thankfully, in true Audrey and Noah style, they surprised me. They walked and laughed and embraced an evening that was devoted to helping other people touched by this disease. Yes, we had some tears late that night but the general spirit of why we were there was not lost on them. I should know by now that they are my little nightlights when I need them the most. Their Dad would be proud of them.

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!