I was going through the dresser in my mama's bedroom, preparing the few things that will accompany her to the Long Term Care community that is her new home. At least, I certainly hope it will be, the final answer has not been determined, but like one of my wise friends advised, I am moving ahead as if what I want has already happened. I will only be able to bring a few suitcases of her belongings on the first part of this journey and need to organize what other pieces will be shipped in the coming weeks.
The top drawer was stuck and I could barely get my fingers in to feel what was preventing it from opening. After a number of frustrating moments with a wooden spoon, I pulled out the drawer beside it and reached in to push an old picture frame down to free the drawer. The contents are many old photographs, documents and keepsakes from my father, my grandparents and my mom. The photo that was stuck was a portrait of my mom at about 20 years old, a beautiful sepia toned black and white of this gorgeous, vibrant young woman, her curly thick hair pulled back from her face and her full lips are in a welcoming smile. She is wearing rhinestone earrings that I recognize from a set she has since given to me and a matching brooch. Her eyes capture you with their pure determination and her flawless, smooth skin glows. She is a stunning woman and at once I understood why this photo stopped me from opening the drawer.
My mom is 89 almost 90 years old and is at the end of her life. She nearly accomplished her wish to die in her home and would have, had the Health Care aide not found her collapsed by the side of the bed with a nearly fatal low blood oxygen level. I flew to be by her side, not knowing what to expect when I arrived and she has now spent over two weeks in the geriatric unit of a local hospital. In her typically stubborn manner, she has rallied, sufficiently to be ready to be discharged next week, but has been assessed incapable of being in her home alone, due to dementia and incapacity to be mobile without assistance. The opportunity to move her to the retirement community where I work part time came up and most of the paperwork is complete to set the wheels in motion.
It is a huge move, away from the city that has been her home for 85 years and the house that she has lived in for the past 56 of them. She and my father raised my brother and I here but my mom was the glue, the backbone of the family. My father's life was an interesting one, fodder for many other blogs. He died at the young age of 67. Mom has been here on her own for almost 28 years. Being in her home has been the single driving force for her life in the past decade and up to 3 weeks ago, I would have bet money on her not ever leaving it. Now, given the choice of living in a Long Term Care home here in Calgary with none of her family nearby, or a move to Victoria where we all are (me, my brother, my husband, her two grandchildren and two great-grandchildren), she chose to trust me to move her to somewhere safe. She has also entrusted me with emptying her home and selling it to finance the steep monthly care fees to keep her going.
I have spent the past two and half weeks in my childhood home, sleeping in it alone for the first time. It has been a period of letting go and saying goodbye. My mom's memory, gracefully has already faded many of the details of the house and she seems quite accepting, if a little frightened, of the change. For me, it represents a huge task, but one that I have found can be paid for with a service that will clear the entire house in 4 days. My brother wants some time to be here but I am leaning towards the fee for freedom method!
Today, I am celebrating the magnificent young woman who smiles at me as I type this from her dining room table. I honour you, Mama, and promise I will take very good care of you and all that you have collected over the years. In my heart, I understand why that drawer wouldn't open, she doesn't want to leave, any more than she wants to be in that creaky, painful old body. I am absolutely certain that the spirit of this being is alive and well inside my mama.
There will undoubtedly be more reflection as the final days here wind down, along with a whirlwind of tasks to be completed. I felt it important to pause today, Easter Sunday, to love and let go of this piece of my mom and to move swiftly to the place where we are now, with joy and anticipation of the time to come.
Well, it happened again. This incredible, everyday, happens all over the world, ordinary,
miracle that is the birth of a baby. I was honoured to be present to the happening with my darling daughter, this time for a home birth and the memories of that 24 hours are warm and fresh.
- The quiet house in the dark, lit only by the streetlights, daughter in a rocking chair, flanked by me and a dear friend with another at her feet and another snoozing on the couch. Whispered conversation between contractions about love and life and children and relationships.
- The energy that flows when a baby is on the way - running effortlessly on an hour and half's sleep into the next day.
- Bringing my four year old grandson home from daycare so he can be part of the birth at home - playing in his room for a time - coming out to be with his mom - sitting with me, his hand on top of hers as she is seated in the birthing pool, going through the contractions - his love and concern for her with no fear and no hesitation.
- The skilled and calm midwives - the celebration when we heard my daughter was at 8 centimeters - she thought she still had a long way to go.
- The authority of the midwife who has caught hundreds and hundreds of babies, to get my daughter out of the pool for the final delivery - babe's shoulders were stuck - we just all reacted instantly and instinctively - she was out and onto the couch, which was prepared with the plastic sheets and bedding - Torin was out in one more push.
- The moments afterwards with my son-in-law and my grandson gathered around the couch, touching my daughter, hands on the new babe, with the daylight streaming through the window and the beautiful green plants all around - the warm intimacy of being at home with this new life just being brought into the world.
All my doubts about how to share my Grammy-ness with this new one vanished. I knew as I held him a little later, when he opened his eyes and looked up at me as I sang to him, that we will have our own special way with each other. He is unique and different and not-his-brother. We already have our connection and it will grow as we get to know each other. My heart, like the Grinch's, grew three sizes that day.
As our community gathered last night, sharing food and passing the baby, I was present to the wonder that a fresh new little one brings to us all. We are reminded of the poignant possibility that exists in each of us when we are brand new and how we can access that again and again.
Oh, child number two (or in this case, grandchild numero dos) - yours is the fate of being dragged around by your big brother, the subject of blurry photos and recipient of hand me down clothes. The wonder, the magic, the mystery of that first baby is done, not to be repeated and regardless of how incredible you will be, you will never be first.
I realize that this time round, with my darling daughter experiencing a very different pregnancy from the beginning - more nausea, deep in the bone tiredness and battling more than one nasty infection and exhaustion - the romance of being a mom-in-waiting has lost a little of its appeal. While we were all eagerly anticipating the arrival of baby number one with her, marveling over each little change in her and the growing belly, just getting the house clean and the mountain of laundry folded with an active 3 1/2 year old around is daunting.
And I have had my niggling doubts about how to be a Grammy times two. Having a second child didn't seem so tough (darling daughter being that baby) and I don't recall ever wondering how I would have enough love to go around, but this time, after falling so hard for my wondrous grandson, I do consider what it will be like for him to share me and how I could ever love a little person as much as I adore him. Now, I am sure that I will step into that role too; I did have fears about how to be a Grammy 4 years ago, but I do have a great deal of compassion for the second child.
Again, I have the blessing of distance and can see how the dynamics change with two kids. I came from a family of two children, where the arrival of my little brother was not a grand event for me. I was quite nicely ensconced as the Princess and I did not appreciate his intrusion into my life. My brother and I have struggled with our relationship all of our lives and easily fall into the tug-of-war of sibling power unless we are being conscious and aware.
I made enormous efforts with my two so they did not experience their childhood as a battleground of who has the upper hand and attention of the parents. From what they share with me, I was successful - they are close and love and support each other. Still there are echoes of "but you loved him best" in my daughter's conversation and she looks for evidence that we always held her brother as the favoured one.
Number One Grandson has been the apple of my eye, the entire focus of attention when I am with him and I have carefully cultivated a space where he knows he is special and very much loved. Last summer, when talk of having another became serious, I actually wasn't sure that I was ready to share my time with another wee one. Fortunately, both Grandson and I have grown up a little. He is more independent and I am more ready to let go (a little) of our time together. We will work our way through it.
Timeless as Cain and Abel, siblings need to learn how to be with each other or risk dire consequences. Nowhere is it more evident that we are each individuals and despite being raised by the same parents, in the same house, we turn out very differently. I will need to be conscious and mindful of how I be Grammy for two. This will cause me to grow my heart even bigger. That is a good thing!
This last few days I have had cause to consider the nature of miracles and angels. Through the magic of this remarkable contraption that sits in front of me, I was informed about a friend, who I know only online, and a catastrophic health situation that occurred for her in a shockingly short period of time. Saturday, she was fine, celebrating a birthday, thanking people for their wishes on Facebook and on Tuesday morning I found an urgent message (I can tell because my polite FB friends only use CAPITALS in case of emergency) to view her page to get important information about this friend. Laura was in hospital in critical condition, having lost most of the blood in her body and the doctors were saying there was little hope that she would survive the day.
I recall saying "Holy Sh*$" out loud and trying to find out as much as I could given that I live thousands of miles away and have only this tenuous connection of "friend" on Facebook and another blog writing site. Over a period of hours, more and more people got the word and joined a virtual vigil on her FB page. Prayers, thoughts, remembered times with Laura were shared and updates from the family at the hospital trickled in. The news kept getting worse and after surgery, she was not expected to live through the night. One marvelous woman who had been able to see Laura at the hospital shared that she felt Laura was not sure about whether to re-join us on this earth and may choose to cross over that night. We were asked to love her and bless her decision whatever it may be.
It did seem that a miracle was the only option available as the medical professionals had done all they could to patch up her body and fill her back up with a stunning 88 units of blood. I checked in the next morning to find that Laura made it through the night and was facing another surgery. She survived that one and in the following morning's posts I learned that she had a little colour in her face, that her kidneys were working and while more operations were scheduled to to clean up and repair as much as possible and found out that she had her pancreas and some of her liver removed.
Day after day, more and more people joined the watch over Laura, virtually and physically. Friends joined family at the hospital, unable to see her in her critical state but just being there lending support, bringing food, hugs and love. Slowly, slowly, she is coming back. She is now back to consciousness, responding, anxious to communicate and very much in this world.
There is no reasonable explanation for why Laura is alive right now. The doctors had given her a 10% chance of living through the first 48 hours. I believe I have witnessed and been part of a miracle; the combined energies and prayers, thoughts and belief that transcended distance and time and gently held Laura while her soul chose to stay with us.
I don't pretend to understand how any of this works. I can only say that I am humbled by the power of the outpouring of love and in awe of how words on a screen can transform a life. Blessed be Laura and all those around you!
Having read of the identification of the long buried remains of King Richard III (under a parking lot, now who would have ever thought to look for them there?), I was interested to read of the words accredited to him via our friend Will Shakespeare - "My kingdom for a horse" (I thought it was Bugs Bunny who said that...) and "now is the winter of my discontent".
It made me think of how winter seems to breed discontent and here in the northern climes, I am right on board with the throngs of Vitamin D deficient, sallow cheeked, slug-belly white folks, peering anxiously out their windows, hoping for a glimpse of sunshine and yearning for warmth. I have developed a dangerous attachment to my down duvet and have learned to step out of my shoes into my fleece lined slippers without ever risking a step onto the cold floor. While I live in the most sub-tropical region of this grand country, the mercury is hovering constantly under 10 degrees (or 50 degrees F for those who need a translation). That just isn't warm enough...
However, what really drew me to comment was that despite the chilly environment outside my door, I am experiencing a distinct contentment. As I have noted previously, I am immediately suspicious of this feeling, waiting for the shoe to drop and the dread to creep in. But this time, there is some sense of sustainability to my contentedness. I can hear my coach asking, "where does it live in your body?". Good question, coach... well, it is centred around my heart. Funny that, lines up with all that I am learning about the power of our hearts. Did you know the heart muscle responds before the brain fires? And that hearts can be broken? And we all know the cost of not caring for our hearts. In my case, my dad was gone at the young age of 67 because of heart condition that first threatened his life in his 50's. And yes, as I pass the midpoint of that decade, I am all too aware of what nurtures and what challenges my heart.
Consciously building into my life the pieces that are loving to my heart is so worthwhile. Continued learning, supported by people who are awake and sharing their consciousness and commitment with me makes a huge difference. Practicing stretching and working on my mind and body brings focus and determination to this ability. I get reminders to be silly and have learned that being happy does not have a limit, that is to say you cannot be too happy.
A year or two ago my mantra was "Trust the Universe", this year it is "Let Go". I am so committed to that lesson that I am preparing to get it inked on my arms. My daughter had "Let Go and Breathe" tattooed on her wrists a long time ago and it is just about the only permanent expression I can imagine living with for the rest of my days. So, I have dug out my calligraphy pens and am designing the letters that I want re-created on my wrists. I don't think there is much more that needs to be said; just, let go!
So this is Christmas... another year over...
Each time the traditions change, I have to manage myself a little and let go of how it is "supposed to be". Christmas is the time where I am the most attached to my perfect little Currier and Ives images and have to remember that I am an evolved human being and I do know that life doesn't always reflect those pictures painted from someone's equally tradition-laden imagination.
This year, on Christmas Day, I am sitting tapping away on my laptop while trying not to listen to the soundtrack of a DVD that would never be my choice for entertainment on this day of families and dreaming of white Christmases and carols tinkling away in the background. I mean, really?! Resident Evil?! It is a good thing I am committed to being married to this man for the rest of my life... where is Jimmy Stuart when you need him?
And tonight my dear children are celebrating with their significant others and their families and no one had a large enough home to include the growing circle of children, in-laws and friends. I realize that it would take a community centre sized space with a commercial kitchen to prep the dinner of that size and while we might tackle that kind of mega-event once a decade or so, truth is that future Christmases will all take a different shape. This has been shifting over this past decade and I officially passed the torch (and 5 or 6 boxes of decorations) to my daughter after the darling grandson was born so I have been winding up my time as Ms. Claus. This year we enjoyed a fabulous dinner together on Christmas Eve, clearing space for other activities today. Christmas morning was just awesome with the new easel being a big hit for the grandest boy.
I truly got the message 4 years ago when we were renting the biggest home I have ever lived in, in an amazing rural wonderland and I went all out to create the ultimate family gathering, only to have a good old fashioned blizzard and some challenging family dynamics have the whole family bugging out at 8 am on Boxing Day, leaving me with way too much food and booze and an absolutely perfectly decorated home (I did pay attention to the details on the Currier and Ives cards!). As I sat with tears running down my cheeks, my sweet husband reminded me that he was still there and we could have wonderful leftovers while overlooking the fantastic winter scene through the giant picture windows, framed with twinkling lights.
Good opportunity to be grateful tonight though... this has truly been an amazing year and reflecting back on the past blogs, my life has continued to unfold in miraculous and wondrous ways. I sit at the end of this year, having completed 2 years of my first efforts of post-secondary education, with an A+ average and an Advanced Diploma in Human Resource Management to show for it. (My next adventures in higher learning are coming soon - but that will wait for another time to post about). My work is evolving into exactly what I want it to be - the time spent, the people I work with, the challenges we are undertaking, the potential both for growth and great compensation. My relationships are all feeling full and lovely and complete. I adore my home, pausing often to give thanks when I walk through the door for a home that just feels right. I love and support my adult children as they go about their lives with a healthy balance of involvement and objectivity. My dear husband is transforming his health through determination and commitment and looks better every day. My mom is well, slowly fading as I would expect at her age, with a stubborn insistence on living independently and so far we have been able to provide her with as much assistance as she needs relatively simply. My grandson is perfect and I treasure each moment I spend with him. We have a regular playdate each week and now include games of imagined friends and stories and so much laughter. I feel so incredibly fortunate to have this time with him while he is still in love with his Grammy. Our time together just melts away effortlessly.
Tomorrow night I will host a gathering of dear friends for a Boxing Day celebration. Many of us shared a delightful dinner on the Solstice with wine and incredible conversations. Having more access to my friends this year is more to be thankful for. We have reached that eclectic age where we can both wise and silly - what fun!
And so, this is Christmas in all of its splendor and grunge - in a time where we pause to think about Peace on Earth, I bring my focus and attention to sharing my good fortune and spreading my good will around even further next year.
So, here we are, 18 days away from either the end of the world as we know it or a glorious new entrance to the next era for mankind, depending on who you talk to. Now, I was visiting the Yucatan peninsula 13-14 years ago and came upon the Mayan prediction at a time when I was deeply engaged in exploring all aspects of my world, including Mayan ruins and deep, clearly connected to the earth cenotes on land that roared to me with its spiritual importance and significance. It just made sense; of course, the end of this time was upon us, it seemed quite obvious. And was I called to being there, in the shadow of the ancient Mayans for this very important transition? Hell, yes!!
But life happened... businesses were sold and started and failed and marriages began and ended (not mine, by the way) and a grandson was born and I changed careers, went to school and moved a lot. And grand plans of the ultimate excursion to bear witness to the Mayan prophecy in situ with each and every person that I love has become an intimate dinner with 5 or 6 of my dear friends where we will ferociously debate this time and place over wine and great food and fully expect to wake on December 22nd with little noticeable alteration to the landscape we gaze upon.
Will that be it? Is that all that will become of this potential to transform our planet overnight? There is no question that I sense a building energy around me; observe it in all my coaching clients, loving relationships and world politics, but like the quantum physics question - did our observation of this condition change the state of it or is there a natural progression of human beings that we have the privilege of bearing witness to?
I choose to believe; partly because I get to choose what I believe, that we are in the company of a very small number of humans who will have an opportunity to be alive at a time of momentous change. We have already seen the madness of Y2K and lived to describe it (or did you party like it was 1999?) and this next step feels like the maturing of humans. Like the time of adolescence for any species, there are some of us that are entering into it kicking and screaming, digging our heels in and fingers clawing at the doorway. This evolution is inevitable or like Darwin observed, we too will come and go as a species and some entity like David Attenborough (okay, now imagine David in a more insectoid form) will be describing at length the marvels of the Homo Sapiens and pontificating upon their downfall.
It does occur that there is some urgency over these next precious days to be being in a way that allows this shift to happen with some ease and grace. Perhaps that is the blue skying daydream. Birthing, maturing, changing are not easy or simple states to pass through and while I sit here typing away (interrupted by not one but two of my loved ones in challenging circumstances reaching out for some assistance), I will need to apply all of my appreciative powers and wisdom and knowledge, without hesitation to "hold space" for us all.
These rare points of alignment of celestial bodies and peoples' passionate desires for a world that works are not to be wasted. In the next 18 days, I will take on a conscious awareness in each of my interactions and communications. This time is not like any other and it won't ever happen again. Carpe diem was never more important!
See you on the other side!!
