Blessings for Daria

Blessings for Daria as she's laid to rest. Thank you for sharing your journey. May you finally be at peace.

Prayers for Daria's family and friends. May you draw strength from her memory, be embraced by her love and comforted by her spirit.

Today, I light a candle in her honour.

Remembering

Remembering a precious unborn life lost January 22, 2010.

your precious heart no longer beats;
your eyes, forever closed.
never will I kiss your cheek;
your tiny hand, I'll never hold.

I don't pretend to understand
the meaning in God's ways.
forever will I treasure you,
and in my heart, you'll always stay.

Love, Gramma Chelle

Long Distance Hugs and Prayers

Sending some long distance hugs and prayers to Ion and oldschool. Holding each of you and your families in my heart during this difficult time. May your precious memories bring you comfort in the days to come.

Letter to Lou: How I Feel

I love you.

I miss you.

I miss your smile. I miss your laugh; the sound of your voice. I miss your energy. I miss your spark. I miss your attitude. I miss your independance. I miss your enthusiasm. I miss your determination. I miss your love of life.

I miss talking to you. I miss your hugs. I miss your love.

I miss these things and more, not only because you're not here, but because you're not you anymore.

You have become a stranger to us in so many ways. The Lou you are now, is not the Lou we have loved and raised for 17 years. THAT Lou would not have settled. THAT Lou would not sacrifice her values; her family.

I'm also missing the experience of my daughter's first baby. My first grandchild. I don't get to share in that "pregnant glow." Your excitement at feeling the baby move. I don't get to hear your dreams for your baby; for your future. I don't get to hold your hair back when you're sick; or rub your back. I don't get to touch your tummy and talk to the baby ... tell the baby Gramma Chelle is here, and I can't wait for him/her to arrive. I don't get to share my stories of my pregnancy with you. I don't get to share the excitement of shopping for your first baby. My first grandchild. All those firsts, that I have been forever shut out from.

Like the enemy.

Like someone you needed protection from. Like someone my grandchild needs to be protected from.

And the very people who Kmaq professes to hate, are the same ones who you are surrounding yourself with. The ones who Kmaq told me spent his entire life telling him he was a "screw up" and "would never grow up to be anything" are the ones who are going to have an influence in my grandchild's life. The dysfunctional people who filled Kmaq's life with anger, hatred, violence and alcoholism.

And your family, for whatever reason, is excluded. Isolated. You can't spend time with us. We can't take you shopping. He refuses to contact you on the phone your Aunt bought you for your birthday. You can't even tell Kmaq that we bought you a new shirt. The minimal contact you do have with us in done on the sly. Hidden. Lied about.

Like it's wrong.

I can't pretend to understand. I can't pretend it's ok.

I spend hours awake at night when I should be sleeping. I spend a lot of time crying. I'm sick to my stomach. I go from starving myself to gorging myself. I go from sadness to angry so fast that I don't even know where one starts and the other ends. And the cycle continues. I try to figure out how things got this way. What did we do wrong? What can we do to fix it?

I don't even want to go Christmas shopping. I get out into the stores and I'm drawn to the baby section ... only to be smacked in the face with the reality that I'm not involved. Not allowed. It makes me sad, and I just want to go home and crawl under the covers. Hide from everyone. Hide from the choices you've made. Hide from the way you make me feel.

People ask about you all the time. All I can do is fake a smile, take a deep breath and swallow my tears ... and tell them I don't know. I guess you're doing well. I assume things are ok. I feel like an idiot. What kind of mother doesn't know how her daughter is?

I ask Gingo if she's heard from you. It's clear from her reaction that she has. She gets uncomfortable. Tells me she hasn't and then will do anything she can to avoid the subject. To get away from me. Clearly she doesn't want to betray the trust and confidence of the big sister who she absolutely adores and admires. But she also doesn't want to lie to her mom. I don't want to make her have to choose. So I avoid Gingo.

I feel like a monster. Like a terrible person who doesn't deserve the love of her daughter, and doesn't deserve to love her grandchild. I ask myself what have I done to deserve to be treated this way?

I've "adopted" a family for Christmas. A young single mom. I will shop for her and her child in lieu of being able to shop for my own daughter and grandchild. I will hope she appreciates the love that my gifts come with. I will hope it brightens their Christmas and puts a smile on their faces. I will hope my love and support is welcomed in the lives of strangers, where it's not welcomed in yours.

And I hope with every ounce of my being that it makes me feel a little better about myself.

BIG Hugs.

So, here I am more than a week since my last post. Wow ... almost 2. Guess I have, yet again, failed NaBloPoMo's post a day :( I have been very busy with school, with Spring, with family issues.

Today, especially though, I need to take a few minutes to honour the memory of my best friend on the 4th anniversary of her passing from metastatic breast cancer.

Dear Donna,
I can't believe 4 long years have passed. I miss you dearly. I can't begin to tell you how many times I've glanced around my living room, and could swear I see you sitting there with me over tea. I miss our walks, our long conversations and our laughs. Often times my first reaction is still to pick up the phone to call you. I do talk to you; I hope you can hear me. You've inspired so many aspects of my life, including my recent trip back to the classroom and my desire to make a difference in the field of palliative care. Thank you for your friendship, your support and your unwavering belief in me. I hope I was as good a friend to you.

BIG plans for the garden mean a big job ahead.

What a gorgeous day! We were blessed with sunny skies and temperatures above 20 degrees Celsius.

I was up and out early this morning to do my weekly cleaning for Mom and for Wee. When I got home Peach was just finishing raking and sweeping up out front. It's so nice to get rid of the 'dirtiness' of winter. Earlier in the day I had planned on taking advantage of the beautiful weather to get some work done outdoors, but couldn't decide whether to start in the back yard or the front. Peach getting the work done out front was so much appreciated, and took the decision out of my hands about where to start.

After making a cup of tea I headed out back. Peach had already moved our new patio set out there and I couldn't wait to get it set up. Unfortunately I didn't do any work outdoors last fall which means I have even more to do now that spring is here. We have major renovation plans for both the front garden and back garden this year. We became sidetracked from some of the cleanup work this afternoon discussing the garden plans. Of course, I also had to move the patio furniture around a half dozen times until I found just the right spot for everything. Or should I say just the right spot for today .... tomorrow may be quite a different story. I tend to not know if I like something until I leave it overnight and then look at it with fresh eyes the next day. We did accomplish quite a bit today, although there is still so much work ahead.

Thankfully, we'll be blessed with the same beautiful weather for the rest of the weekend :)

BIG month.

So the theme for April is BIG. Fitting, since I am apparently about to begin one of the biggest phases of my life. BIG changes. BIG decisions. BIG adjustments. And no doubt BIG compromises.

Didn't plan it this way. Wish it wasn't this way. But it is what it is.

I read something today that is also quite fitting:

Healing is a coming to terms with things as they are, rather than struggling to force them to be as they once were, or as we would like them to be.

Let the healing begin.

The "D" word.

So, today's homework sounds simple enough. Choose someone and talk about IT. The "D" word.

Death. Dying.

In our society, the "D" word is just as taboo as the "F" word. I guess it is our hope that if we don't talk about it, it won't occur. My mom, for example, believes that if you discuss death you are inviting death. She's not talking. My sister was willing to listen to what I had to say - and even interjected a comment or 2 - but was clearly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation and wanted to move on.

I look at it this way: it's gonna happen. It's inevitable. No one knows when. Not everyone gets sick and is put on notice, or given time to get their house in order. Long before this course I started telling my family what my wishes were, simply because I wanted things done MY way. Anyone who knows me as the control freak I am wouldn't be surprised by this. The only thing I want less than dying, is for someone else making the decisions on my behalf based on their beliefs, their fears, their wishes.

Our language regarding death is indicative of our attitude and general feelings with the concept of dying. Our terminology and images of death only increase our fear:
~ the grim reaper
~ kick the bucket
~ last curtain call
~ your last enemy
~ meeting your maker

A pastor, facilitating a module on Spiritual Issues Around Death and Dying raises this question:
"Now if you and I are uncomfortable with the idea of death (and we are largely on the outside looking in) can you imagine what the prospect of imminent death must do to the ones you'll be called to care for? They're facing their own demise; the general weakening of their body reminds them everyday of their mortality. They aren't what they used to be, and can't do what they used to do so they are going through the various phases of grief."

Try as we might, death can not be ignored. It is an inescapable fact of life. Since it can't be ignored, isn't it time we learned about death? Opened up and discussed death?

Missing George.

I miss you baby girl.

I hate not being able to talk to you. Not saying goodnight. Not hearing how your day went. Not a day goes by that I don't think about you. Constantly hoping you'll call home ... come home.

I'm not surprised you've taken a stand like this. I did too, when I was your age. I know it's hard for you to think of me having been your age but I was. And I had just as strong feelings and just as strong convictions as you.

That's why I wish you would give me even just an ounce of credit instead of always telling me I don't understand. But then again, I guess I didn't give my mom that same credit.

For as much as I agree that right now you can't live at home, it doesn't mean we can't have each other in our lives. A phone call. An email. Anything is better than nothing.

You are my daughter and I love you.

When you want to the least, is when you need to the most

I'll save you all the drivel and excuses of the last 6 months. It's an ugly story and since I can't go back I need to just move forward. Even my horoscope this morning started with, "there's no better time to recommit yourself ..."

So here I go.

Besides, the sun is shining. Spring is here. The temperature will reach the double digits today and by week's end we'll top 20 degrees Celsius.

And it's a short work week :)

A perfect day to smile. A perfect day to feel good. A perfect day for a 're commitment.' A perfect way to start a Monday, if you ask me.

I'm in the process of designing my business cards. I've delved into my beading and have much to do making jewellery and bookmarks. Feedback from everyone has been positive, so if I can make a few bucks doing something I love ... why not?

My other big announcement is I've started training as a palliative care caregiver. A ten week course offered by the Hospice Association of Ontario. Afterwards, I'll be able to provide hospice palliative care as a volunteer. A first step to what I hope becomes a career move into palliative care. If I had both the money and time, I would go back to school and do nursing.

But this is a start.

I love what I'm learning and hope to be able to make a difference to a family and their loved one as they make their final journey home.