A time before

Somewhere in a corner of our hearts we are always 20  -- Lilac Girls

 

When I read this I immediately rankled. This can’t be true, can it? If it is true, it means that we go through our later years feeling as though the best times of our lives are behind us, that we yearn and long for a time of naïveté, a time of before.

I’m in a sad time of my life right now- I’ve just lost my father to cancer. Do I yearn for a time before? A family photo when everyone was healthy? A time when I wasn’t constantly worried about getting the phone call? An outing, while he still had the energy to walk and to laugh? When he still had a sparkle in his eye?

Yeah, I yearn for that time. I yearn for missed opportunities and book store dates and family dinners.

I’m trying to remember me at 20... where was I? What was important to me? Did I know I was having experiences that would make older me look back at and think, "Ah, those were the best times"?

I married Colin the year I was 20. I had a fun-but-going-nowhere job as a dispatcher. I drank too much alcohol. I had amazing friends that I saw regularly. I would have classified myself as happy, if someone had asked me back then.

But looking back I now know that I was just on the verge of life. Real life. Money problems and job instability and a dead husband and depression and a deep and upsetting lack of surety about my future.

Now, today, I’m steeped in real life. I’ve lost three family members in the space of 3 weeks. Mortality is making itself a nearly-tangible presence in my head. I have concerns- the tax bill and mortgage rates and my loved ones and health care. Real life concerns, things that me at 20 had no idea about.

Do I yearn for that time? That time of blissful ignorance, before real life kicked me in my soul? Not even a little bit.

Give me pain and death and sadness. Give me rage and unbridled passion. Give me everything the world has to offer- the dirty, raw parts and the parts so filled with beauty that it sets an unbearable aching in my heart.

Me at 20? She taught me things. She gave me experiences that would shape the person I’m about to become. She knew stuff, important stuff that helped her then, and helps me now. But you can keep her, in the past where she belongs. Because in that secret little corner of my heart, I am exactly who I am right now.

Aunt Janet

I married into a large family- my husband has lots of aunts and uncles and cousins. I don’t know most of them very well; they're scattered around between California, Arizona, and Tennessee (and possibly other places - I honestly need a chart to figure out some of the extended family) and we don't see each other often enough.

We lost one of those aunts the day after Christmas. Aunt Janet was one of the kindest people I have ever met. I had heard quite a lot about her and her husband before I ever met her. Steve stayed with them one summer when he was young and has fond memories of that time and his connection with them both, and with their daughters.

I liked Aunt Janet and Uncle Wes straight off- partly because of the memories Steve shared but also because of the kindness they showed me. Uncle Wes was very ill by the time I met him and that time of their lives was probably so hard on Aunt Janet. Even so, she made me feel like I belonged in the family. I had an opportunity to talk with her during a family reunion and she listened to me with such genuine interest that I loved her immediately. She made me feel special every time I saw her. 

Unfortunately for me, I only saw her a few times. When I heard that she passed away, my first incredibly selfish thought was that I wished I’d had more time to get to know her. I attended her funeral service this past weekend and through the memories shared by her daughter and others, I was able to see a little more of Aunt Janet. She was indeed kind; she was also loving, and is known in her family and community as someone always willing to help others. 

One of her daughters gave a talk and described an occasion where Aunt Janet was loading boxes with food out of her own cupboard; big boxes, filled with food. When questioned by her young daughter, Janet remarked that one need not look very far to see someone whose need was greater than their own. Not only was Janet loving, she also taught those around her about charity and compassion as those boxes were anonymously delivered to families whose need was greater than Janet’s.

I heard so many people describing Janet as someone who would immediately and quietly fill a need. Someone who loved others and showed kindness to those around her. Someone who had endured so much, and used those trials to strengthen herself and her faith. Someone who had hope and a strength of character. 

When I think of Aunt Janet, I think of someone who inspires others to be their best self; to learn from trials; to not give up on hope and faith when life is bleak. I am saddened that I will not have a chance in this life to get to know her better; but I am grateful to be part of her eternal family and see her again on the other side of the veil.

I was able to get a few photos at the service.

 

In St. David, the family digs the grave in the cemetery. This group of shovels waits for eager hands to put them to work. The grave is dug the day before the service, and then it's filled in after the casket is lowered into it.

 

 

Everybody helps. Men in their suits and ties; children as soon as they are big enough to hold shovel; ladies in dresses and fancy shoes.

 

There's something remarkably touching about seeing the family gather round and shovel. This foot belongs to my daughter. She worked alongside the rest of the family as several people took turns filling the grave (and occasionally her shoe). Seeing her there, covered in sweat and dirt, doing her part to honour Aunt Janet made my heart swell with both pride and sadness. In the few days we were together, we did so much: we played games, we laughed and had silly moments; we got dirty together and we mourned an aunt, a sister, a mother, a role model, and a beautiful soul.

 

Thinking of Aunt Janet these past couple of years without Uncle Wes makes my heart break. For the rest of us still labouring at life, my heart also breaks.

 

 

As Aunt Janet and Uncle Wes are together again, so are the rest of us. Scattered around though we may be we share a bond of love, faith, and the knowledge that families are eternal. We are separated by time, distance, and mortality but we will meet again and oh, what a joyous reunion that will be.

 



A poem for Bill

A friend of mine wrote this poem about my dad. He had never met Bill, but was inspired to write these words that so beautifully capture the essence of my dad, and I’m sure of many dads around the world.

A son of God.
A noble spirit.
A humble patron.
What did he add to the creation of this world?  What did he accomplish for 4.5 billion years before he ended up in this fleeting trial of humanity?

He is valued, deeply, passionately, by a Father in Heaven who called him Son.
His contributions here may have been small, but they were profound and touched lives in meaningful ways. A man of gifts and a man of means, he connected with his daughter and offered his most precious gift: Time.

Perhaps you did not notice there was nobility on his brow?  Maybe you did not know that he comes from a Royal Lineage?

His circumstance in this realm may have been humble, but make no mistake that this man was a Son of God, a Prince with an eternal purpose.

Flaws and shortcomings molded his character and failure at times was his friend, yet on he goes to a new step in fulfilling the measure of his mandate.

Let us rejoice that he accomplished so much and that he is headed toward greater things.  His love for you does not die.  His care for you cannot be stricken.

Let's use that love to inspire us to become bigger than we are.

The best part of his legacy is found in you.  Let it shine forth!

-From a friend

Year in review: 2017

Like many of us I am inspired by the new year to look around, take stock, and figure my life out. I have often reviewed my blog posts to really get a feel for how my year went. If we look at all the posts for 2017, it looks like a pretty uneventful year... or at least less eventful than it was.

I turned 39 in January and that was the first day I figured out my dad was really sick - he missed my birthday dinner and he never misses a birthday dinner. He was admitted to the hospital and didn't come home for a couple weeks. At that point, we were given a cancer diagnosis and some treatment options.

In May the home that my husband and I were having built was completed and we moved into a wonderful new space; my in-laws also moved from Tennessee and are right next door!

June, July, and August were filled with outdoor stuff like never before! My husband built a shed, mowed 3 acres, and had a small pen fenced in for the goats that arrived at the end of August.

Also in August, I participated in my last ever (probably) Portland to Coast relay race. It was a hard decision to make this year my last, but one I needed to make. We'll see how I feel when this August rolls around and my friends all troop off for the best/worst 36 hours ever.

November brought with it braces for me, and the nastiest flu ever for both me and Steve; we spent the latter half of the month and a good portion of December sick.

December saw multiple fairly serious injuries, more dental work, and the deaths of my grandmother, my dad, and one of Steve's aunts. My brother in law and his family visited for Christmas and I really enjoyed having them here. I'm lucky to have a wonderful relationship with my in-laws, and they're some of the best people to be around when I'm suffering emotionally.

2017 has been a rough year for me. It has also been amazing. I love my new home; I love having Steve's parents next door; I love my goats! My dad gave me the goats as a gift, so they're double-special.

As with everything else I've experienced in my life, I'm doing my best to focus on the good parts. The parts that need to be nourished, or improved. The parts that bring me joy and uplift my soul. It is proving to be hard work; my natural pessimism keeps dragging my mind to the darkest corners of this year and I'm struggling not to give in to it. The last time I was suffering this much I did not handle it gracefully. One of my biggest fears is acting foolish where others can see me, so I'll be working on maintaining my dignity in 2018.

Journal Day: Room for improvement

Journal Prompt #11, from Danielle at Sometimes Sweet:

Sometimes it can be hard to hear criticism from others. I know for me it's something I may always struggle with- being a people pleaser, etc. At the same time though, constructive criticism can be very helpful, and allow us to look at ourselves in a new light and maybe even grow and change. Take a step out of yourself. If you were on the outside looking in, how would you critique yourself? What things do you see that could change or work on? This isn't about tearing ourselves down; it's about really looking at ourselves and seeing where there's room for growth.

I found this in my drafts from... last year? The year before? I used to do these journal prompts, but clearly I didn't do them all. Usually when I find drafts like this I smile with fondness, usually not remembering what I was going to say, and delete them. I don't even know if Danielle is still doing these prompts, but it seems worth writing about.

What could I observe about myself that I need to work on? It's the time of year when built-in reflection seems so appropriate; new year, new goals, new beginnings so I've been thinking quite a bit about what I need to work on. For several years now I have chosen a theme for my year rather than "making resolutions" and I'm finding myself in need of several such themes (for those of you who have followed me long enough, you'll notice that in itself is a theme of mine: make a plan, abandon it; make a new plan with more focus and bigger goals, also to be abandoned. Whatever.)

Fitness: You know the term "fat and happy"? Well, that's me. My life is full of love and friendship and all the things that fulfill my soul and for me that means that I don't exercise. No yoga, no running, no contemplative walks with my camera. These things also fill my soul, but I'm not doing them. Why? That's the mystery, but I can change it without understanding it, right?

Artistic ability: I have a piano, a guitar, and a camera. I am a novice (or whatever less-than-a-novice is) at all of them. I need more music in my life.

Spiritual development: I'm not really suffering in this area, but I'm not maximizing myself either. I spend time scrolling through my Facebook feed that goes far beyond "catching up" with my various interests/responsibilities there. It's impacting my ability to concentrate on the written word, and to really focus on other, more important tasks.

I had an employee once who hated me. She didn't care for my management style and did not have any regard for the concept that as her manager/a human being I deserved a bare minimum of respect. She often said things that were so disrespectful they almost seemed designed to elicit a response from me. Because I'm not the sort to be manipulated in that way, I refused to give her any response except to thank her for her feedback and promise her that I would consider her position in my decision-making. It took her a little while, but she started to be a little more constructive in her criticism of me and a little less disrespectful. While I didn't appreciate her attitude, I was able to really listen to her complaints and find some thread of something that I could use to be a better manager. I'm grateful for that exercise, and the ability to turn it into something positive.

My name is Daddy

When I was a little girl I discovered that my dad had a first name, and it wasn't "Daddy". I started calling him Bill and he would insist, "my name is Daddy!" For as long as I can remember, I've called him by his first name. Not exclusively, and not all the time but it has become a joke in our family. He will often sign cards or letters as "my name is daddy". Sometimes I forget that "Bill" isn't what all dads are called, and I'll refer to my father in law by the same name. In my mind, "Bill" means "Dad".

Bill passed away on December 17th. For those who have kept up with our family, my dad was diagnosed with cancer in February; he had a baseball-sized tumour on his liver. Various treatments and medications were tried and he did fairly well for a few months, until he didn't.

We put a death notice in the newspaper, but didn't have an obituary published. I have been wanting to write one here, and I've been working on it but I'm stuck. When I get to the part about listing his family, it gets a little complicated for me. You know the part, where we say so-and-so is survived by a loving wife, daughter, grandchildren...

Survived by... we're not really surviving all that well. Or maybe it would be more fair to say that we're barely surviving. I have been intellectualizing my dad's illness for so long- we've known that this was a possibility for him, and the treatments he received were palliative, so there was not much in the way of hope for him. The question of how long has been looming over us for most of the last year, so it shouldn't have been a surprise. Even so, I find myself shocked and surprised and offended by his death.

Intellectually I've always understood that one doesn't prepare emotionally for a death; we tell ourselves we can, and we think about it and maybe even make plans around it, but there's no way to get ahead of the grieving. I've done plenty of grieving in my life over traumatic events, I think I honestly believed that I wouldn't feel so raw about this because it wouldn't be a surprise. I was sure that because I knew it was going to happen it wouldn't hurt so much. Now I can't even wrap my mind around him being dead. Where is dead? It feels like a place I should be able to get him from, like maybe he just needs a ride home. I'm a really good driver, why can't I just go get him?

Survived by... I don't have biological children so there's not much in the way of posterity, so to speak. Oh, but people love my dad. My husband's family in particular adore him- grand children and great grandchildren, my in-laws. Everyone has embraced my dad so unconditionally and considers him "family".

My parents have these friends, Markus and Patricia, who have become like family with ours. Their little daughters know my dad as "Papa" and he's the only one they have; the love between our families is no less real than if they had been born into ours. I am heartbroken for them, that they won't get to grow up knowing him. He's really good at being a grandpa and I'm angry that they will miss out on that. I'm devastated that my mom has to live without him.

My dad has so many friends who look up to him; guys at work that he has become like a mentor to, people who respect his opinion and look to him for guidance about life.

I don't even have words strong enough to express how much I miss him. His generosity and sense of humour and our shared love of books... I loved talking about books with my dad. He was genuinely interested in my thoughts about books and life and morality. My dad is one of my favourite people in this world, and something like heartbroken rage is seething on my insides and I don't know what to do with it.