Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Thank you
There are times in one’s life when your perspective can be given a gentle nudge. A push that reminds you you are part of something bigger in the world. It can be as simple as catching your child giggling, maybe it’s an event or simply the company of good friends. This weekend was one of those times.
As I fly over the Rockies on this unbelievably sunny afternoon, I am sad to be leaving the city that Mark and I called home for over nine years. Each year away makes the returning trip all the more bitter sweet. Seeing old friends and celebrating Mark’s life “Relish style” was once again, amazing, emotional and an eye opener to the kindness and generosity that surrounds my little family.
Old friends and the new friends I met this weekend reminded me that I am part of something bigger than words can describe. Because of Mark’s lasting friendship with these people long after he’s gone, I get the privilege of feeling like the luckiest person in the world. Having over 120 people turn out for this event and seeing all the hard work that was put into it to make it a success made me realize that Mark is in no way forgotten. If anything, his stamp on this world has grown.
Strangers thanked me for letting them be a part of the tournament. I couldn't understand why they were thanking me at first. I wanted to hug everyone and thank them! It took me a while, but my instincts tell me that they were probably grateful for the twist in perspective they gained from the day. A reminder that life is precious.
Thank you Jason, Todd, Lee, Chris and everyone who helped create a weekend to remember. You all are making a difference in my life, my kids’ lives and those who fight this disease everyday.
Mark would be proud.
As I fly over the Rockies on this unbelievably sunny afternoon, I am sad to be leaving the city that Mark and I called home for over nine years. Each year away makes the returning trip all the more bitter sweet. Seeing old friends and celebrating Mark’s life “Relish style” was once again, amazing, emotional and an eye opener to the kindness and generosity that surrounds my little family.
Old friends and the new friends I met this weekend reminded me that I am part of something bigger than words can describe. Because of Mark’s lasting friendship with these people long after he’s gone, I get the privilege of feeling like the luckiest person in the world. Having over 120 people turn out for this event and seeing all the hard work that was put into it to make it a success made me realize that Mark is in no way forgotten. If anything, his stamp on this world has grown.
Strangers thanked me for letting them be a part of the tournament. I couldn't understand why they were thanking me at first. I wanted to hug everyone and thank them! It took me a while, but my instincts tell me that they were probably grateful for the twist in perspective they gained from the day. A reminder that life is precious.
Thank you Jason, Todd, Lee, Chris and everyone who helped create a weekend to remember. You all are making a difference in my life, my kids’ lives and those who fight this disease everyday.
Mark would be proud.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Dear Mark,
As I sit here on the back deck of a house you’re never seen, in a neighbourhood you’ve never been, living a life so far removed from what we once knew, I wonder how I got here almost every day. You would have been celebrating your 38th birthday today and I find it hard to believe it’s been nearly two and a half years since you’ve been gone.
I think you would be relieved to know that my life here is one that has evolved into something familiar, something with predictable patterns in the everyday. The kids are settled in as though they were here always, a little bitter sweet for me. At the same time, there has been nothing predictable about the direction my life has taken. I still manage to be surprised when things don’t turn out as I’d hoped they would. It’s almost silly in a way, considering my life has been nothing but unpredictable. Let’s face it, it’s not like 90 percent of women are faced with the same circumstances I am, so why should I expect that to be the case now? Maybe wishful thinking…maybe hopeful…maybe foolish. It’s hard to say.
Every now and then I get bogged down with this train of thought. Why you? Why me? Why our kids? How is it that our children have to grow up without you as their Dad? No matter how accepting or how open minded an individual can be, it still defies any possible sense. Put simply, it’s unfair. You would think that living with this reality for this length of time might soften this question. And it has to some degree, but there are times when I surrender to this feeling of injustice. The only way to describe it is… I just break. I break, I cry, I collect myself and I dig. I dig deep for a reason to appreciate my life when yours was cut so short.
You affect me everyday even though I can’t feel your presence anymore. As time passes and my life changes, I know that I am responsible now for teaching our children the things that we set out to do together when we chose to become parents 7 years ago. This responsibility overwhelms me when I remember how easily these things came to you. I feel your absence the most when our kids struggle with missing you in these moments. When a hug or a simple squeeze from you would easily squash their child hood tears.
I know that with time, these moments will change. It is something that I look forward to and dread in the same instant. I look forward to a time when Audrey’s sadness isn’t so raw because time will have passed, but it makes me ache to think she’ll have trouble remembering you. Noah is already caught between these two worlds and thankfully, his innocence has some protective qualities to it.
When I think about your birthday tonight, I don’t think about all that never came to be for you, your life seemed so full and complete already. Your smile and attitude was that of a person fulfilled and content with your life at any given moment. A quality I think we all strive for each day.
I do however think about how our lives continue to unfold, day by day, hour by hour. Whether we have been propelling it along with goodwill or not, each day unravels itself into the next . Did we smile at the girl who handed us our coffee this morning? Did we tell the person in our life how much we love them? Are we patient with the ones we love? You did this and it came so naturally. This is what I remember about you tonight on your birthday. Not what you would have become had you had the chance to turn 38, what you were and always will be.
all my love,
Leslie
As I sit here on the back deck of a house you’re never seen, in a neighbourhood you’ve never been, living a life so far removed from what we once knew, I wonder how I got here almost every day. You would have been celebrating your 38th birthday today and I find it hard to believe it’s been nearly two and a half years since you’ve been gone.
I think you would be relieved to know that my life here is one that has evolved into something familiar, something with predictable patterns in the everyday. The kids are settled in as though they were here always, a little bitter sweet for me. At the same time, there has been nothing predictable about the direction my life has taken. I still manage to be surprised when things don’t turn out as I’d hoped they would. It’s almost silly in a way, considering my life has been nothing but unpredictable. Let’s face it, it’s not like 90 percent of women are faced with the same circumstances I am, so why should I expect that to be the case now? Maybe wishful thinking…maybe hopeful…maybe foolish. It’s hard to say.
Every now and then I get bogged down with this train of thought. Why you? Why me? Why our kids? How is it that our children have to grow up without you as their Dad? No matter how accepting or how open minded an individual can be, it still defies any possible sense. Put simply, it’s unfair. You would think that living with this reality for this length of time might soften this question. And it has to some degree, but there are times when I surrender to this feeling of injustice. The only way to describe it is… I just break. I break, I cry, I collect myself and I dig. I dig deep for a reason to appreciate my life when yours was cut so short.
You affect me everyday even though I can’t feel your presence anymore. As time passes and my life changes, I know that I am responsible now for teaching our children the things that we set out to do together when we chose to become parents 7 years ago. This responsibility overwhelms me when I remember how easily these things came to you. I feel your absence the most when our kids struggle with missing you in these moments. When a hug or a simple squeeze from you would easily squash their child hood tears.
I know that with time, these moments will change. It is something that I look forward to and dread in the same instant. I look forward to a time when Audrey’s sadness isn’t so raw because time will have passed, but it makes me ache to think she’ll have trouble remembering you. Noah is already caught between these two worlds and thankfully, his innocence has some protective qualities to it.
When I think about your birthday tonight, I don’t think about all that never came to be for you, your life seemed so full and complete already. Your smile and attitude was that of a person fulfilled and content with your life at any given moment. A quality I think we all strive for each day.
I do however think about how our lives continue to unfold, day by day, hour by hour. Whether we have been propelling it along with goodwill or not, each day unravels itself into the next . Did we smile at the girl who handed us our coffee this morning? Did we tell the person in our life how much we love them? Are we patient with the ones we love? You did this and it came so naturally. This is what I remember about you tonight on your birthday. Not what you would have become had you had the chance to turn 38, what you were and always will be.
all my love,
Leslie
Thursday, July 2, 2009
When I'm...35
As I sit here on the eve of my birthday with the kids tucked in and their very first downtown fireworks under their belt, I think about the year that has passed and all that has happened. Birthdays always seem to have that affect on me, as I’m sure they do for most people, it’s a day to take stock and step back. I try to rewind my life to when I was young and think back to what I thought I’d be doing when I was this age. Where did I think I would be way back then? And, have any of those ideas ever come to be as I hit these milestones in life?
One thing is certain, I never ever thought I’d be a widowed single mother of two small children starting over at the age of 35. I can’t really say what I had in mind years and years ago when I pictured my future, but this most certainly was not it.
This year, this birthday has been on my mind since I realized the dates a few months ago. As I enter this new year in my life, I will have caught up to Mark in age. By the end of this month I will be older than him and this just makes no sense at all. A minor detail to most anyone else but it’s a bit of a stumbling block for my brain. It’s as though the rules have been changed on me without any warning.
When I think about Mark and the fact that he died so young, I can’t help but wonder about his last year of life. If he had known that 35 was going to be it, I wonder if he would have done anything different? Would he have made different choices? Would be have taken more risks or less? Would he have been more impatient or just the opposite? When our days are numbered why do we behave differently?
I remember asking Mark one day in January if he knew he had seven days left, what would he do? Little did we know at the time, he had less than thirty. We sat for a long time and to my surprise, he didn’t have a “bucket list” type answer like I thought he might. At first he said nothing, he said he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to do. I think by then the disease had taken a lot of his energy and drive away. But then he said simply, he’d kiss our kids, read them a story and then watch me fall asleep so he could remember us… I cried.
So now I sit here in my 35th year thinking about that conversation. Wondering how to pull it together in spite of everything and gain that sense of appreciation that comes with a time line…
Maybe when I wake up tomorrow, one day older and one day wiser it will come more easily to me.
One thing is certain, I never ever thought I’d be a widowed single mother of two small children starting over at the age of 35. I can’t really say what I had in mind years and years ago when I pictured my future, but this most certainly was not it.
This year, this birthday has been on my mind since I realized the dates a few months ago. As I enter this new year in my life, I will have caught up to Mark in age. By the end of this month I will be older than him and this just makes no sense at all. A minor detail to most anyone else but it’s a bit of a stumbling block for my brain. It’s as though the rules have been changed on me without any warning.
When I think about Mark and the fact that he died so young, I can’t help but wonder about his last year of life. If he had known that 35 was going to be it, I wonder if he would have done anything different? Would he have made different choices? Would be have taken more risks or less? Would he have been more impatient or just the opposite? When our days are numbered why do we behave differently?
I remember asking Mark one day in January if he knew he had seven days left, what would he do? Little did we know at the time, he had less than thirty. We sat for a long time and to my surprise, he didn’t have a “bucket list” type answer like I thought he might. At first he said nothing, he said he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to do. I think by then the disease had taken a lot of his energy and drive away. But then he said simply, he’d kiss our kids, read them a story and then watch me fall asleep so he could remember us… I cried.
So now I sit here in my 35th year thinking about that conversation. Wondering how to pull it together in spite of everything and gain that sense of appreciation that comes with a time line…
Maybe when I wake up tomorrow, one day older and one day wiser it will come more easily to me.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Stuck...
It is so easy to get stuck.
Every now and then I feel the weight of my circumstances hanging over me. As milestones come and go and our life moves forward without Mark, I am reminded of what my kids have lost and what is missing from their lives. As Audrey grows wiser, she too is all the more aware of her circumstances.
As my life has changed over the last 3 years I have changed with it. At times, I cope better than others and it’s hard to say what nudges me forward and what sucks me back. I have an idea but nothing that will change the world that’s for sure.
As I stood in the hallway tonight stretching my “weekday-mummy-multi-tasking-self” between three tasks (switching laundry, folding laundry and washing Audrey’s hair) and two rooms, the phone rang.
As anyone could guess, the last few days around our household have been challenging and somber to say the least. The tasks of the day keep piling up high, my impatience building and my early morning rise (5am Noah!) catching up to me. The ringing phone seemed to add to the hysteria of the bath time chaos, but I knew the person on the other end was someone I had been anxiously waiting to hear from.
Our discussion was quick, due mostly to the noise level in the background at my end. We casually discussed the fact that she was on her way up to the hospital room where her mom is fighting for her life (another victim of blood cancer.) It seems almost surreal that we could be discussing such thing as we both tended to our other motherly duties while we chatted. The story turned to a friend of hers, a neighbour who lost her husband just this Sunday.
This friend of hers reminded her of me, so she told me her story. A mother of three, youngest babe only 7 months old, now widowed. Her husband, aged 36 had lost his battle with Leukemia after being diagnosed less than a year ago. The common threads in this story made my heart ache instantly for this stranger, this mother. My irritability and impatience with the day gone.
I was instantly brought back to the days of walking up the steps of the hospital making quick calls to friends to fill them in on the latest. Now I’m at the other end as she stands in the doorway of her Mom’s hospital speaking to me about this stranger. She is going to sit at her Mom’s bedside, another Mom is about to bury her husband who died tragically on Father’s Day and I stand at the door of my bathroom looking at my kids. I look at them, the laundry and the soapy hair and I realize, I don’t feel quite so stuck tonight.
Every now and then I feel the weight of my circumstances hanging over me. As milestones come and go and our life moves forward without Mark, I am reminded of what my kids have lost and what is missing from their lives. As Audrey grows wiser, she too is all the more aware of her circumstances.
As my life has changed over the last 3 years I have changed with it. At times, I cope better than others and it’s hard to say what nudges me forward and what sucks me back. I have an idea but nothing that will change the world that’s for sure.
As I stood in the hallway tonight stretching my “weekday-mummy-multi-tasking-self” between three tasks (switching laundry, folding laundry and washing Audrey’s hair) and two rooms, the phone rang.
As anyone could guess, the last few days around our household have been challenging and somber to say the least. The tasks of the day keep piling up high, my impatience building and my early morning rise (5am Noah!) catching up to me. The ringing phone seemed to add to the hysteria of the bath time chaos, but I knew the person on the other end was someone I had been anxiously waiting to hear from.
Our discussion was quick, due mostly to the noise level in the background at my end. We casually discussed the fact that she was on her way up to the hospital room where her mom is fighting for her life (another victim of blood cancer.) It seems almost surreal that we could be discussing such thing as we both tended to our other motherly duties while we chatted. The story turned to a friend of hers, a neighbour who lost her husband just this Sunday.
This friend of hers reminded her of me, so she told me her story. A mother of three, youngest babe only 7 months old, now widowed. Her husband, aged 36 had lost his battle with Leukemia after being diagnosed less than a year ago. The common threads in this story made my heart ache instantly for this stranger, this mother. My irritability and impatience with the day gone.
I was instantly brought back to the days of walking up the steps of the hospital making quick calls to friends to fill them in on the latest. Now I’m at the other end as she stands in the doorway of her Mom’s hospital speaking to me about this stranger. She is going to sit at her Mom’s bedside, another Mom is about to bury her husband who died tragically on Father’s Day and I stand at the door of my bathroom looking at my kids. I look at them, the laundry and the soapy hair and I realize, I don’t feel quite so stuck tonight.
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