Love

     I have a friend whose husband was recently killed while walking their dog at night. She is someone I used to work with.  My friend is now facing life without her husband. Their son who is grown is now without a dad. They must pursue a life changed forever.  I learned about the accident through social media and have witnessed the tremendous outpouring of support for their family. They are loved.

     The workplace setting that we met in was hospice; our work was helping children, youth and adults with loss. It makes sense to me that my friend and I met while working for hospice. She is a lovely, nurturing woman, gentle in all her dealings with others but not afraid to ask the hard questions. With a nursing background and her own personal skill set she seemed especially in tune with grieving children. For me hospice was an amazing job, one that I could never imagine leaving except for the even more amazing job of motherhood. Part of the reason that it was such marvelous work was the perspective gained by such close contact with death. You learned day after day, person after person, loss after loss to stay caught up with your "I love yous". Every day you saw that in the blink of an eye, life as you knew it could be over and that if you were lucky or blessed or healthy enough, there might be another chapter for you, maybe. It was not always easy but it was intense, real and terribly satisfying.
     My friend wrote about the amazing support she and her son have received since the accident and the tremendous honour that was bestowed on her late husband by the huge congregation of firefighters at his memorial service. She also wrote an incredibly wise piece of advice:

"Hold your loved ones. Say what you need to say. In a strange yet perfect way  we had all of the 'right' conversations over the past few years. No regrets. Always more to say, yet the most important things were said." 
     My friend, her son and the rest of their family and their firefighter family must pursue a life forever changed. It will not be easy I'm sure but they will do it. No regrets. 

Brodie

     Our 16 year old dog Brodie was hit by a car last night and died. We are all sad and will miss him.  He was very old so we knew our time with him was limited. He was a nice dog although he took his property-guarding and his country-doorbell responsibilities a little too seriously at times. Man, that dog could bark! He even let us know when there was a car heading up our neighbour's driveway.
     There was a little fierce streak in Brodie that was not always under control. He knew if anyone had had a bad experience with a dog; he picked up on their fear instantly and chose these unlucky folks to nip or show his teeth to. We have neighbours that we have not seen in years because Brodie kept them at a distance. It was a problem that we were not always sure how to deal with.
     The other issue he had was staying at home. The folks we got him from had put an ad in the paper: Free to a good home. They had planned to go into cattle ranching and unfortunately for them the deal fell through. They lived in a ocean view property in White Rock and Dee-oh-gee as they had named him (Yes, it spells dog)  was not going to be happy there, they feared. At the time we were leasing 70 acres which seemed like the perfect place for Brodie as we renamed him, to run around. Later when we moved to 5 acres we could not keep him home. So he was tied up for years unfortunately until we invested in an electric collar which mostly kept him home, unless the battery went dead and we didn't notice.
    Several years ago Brodie had a grapefruit-size tumour on his shoulder and the vet said that he may or may not be able to take it out, depending on how it was growing inside. We opted not to do the surgery when we found out  from a friend about an amazing natural remedy called Essiac. I made up the tincture and poured it on his food. Within a month the tumour had shrunk down to nothing--- it was incredible! Developed by a nurse in Quebec, Essiac contains Burdock Root, Slippery Elm Inner Bark, Sheep Sorrel and Indian Rhubarb Root and was developed for use by humans but it saved Brodie's life, for a few years anyway.
     Pet deaths are hard on families but they are sometimes a child's first experience with death and so are also a teachable moment. The way we as parents mourn our losses can shape the way our children learn to cope with loss and death. Rituals which honour the loss and allow an expression of sad feelings work as well for pet loss as they do for human death. We will be having a memorial for Brodie on Sunday, rain or shine. 

Friday

     Have you ever had one of those days? Picked up Daughter #1 from high school after a seizure, picked up Daughter #2 shortly after for a playground accident, and then discovered that my credit card company had been sending my bills to my old address, which meant I wasn't getting them, therefore racking up considerable interest and putting my credit rating in danger. What a day!
     There are days however when my life seems so monotonous, so dreary, my chores like drudgery, that I can barely stand it. The endless laundry, food preparation, housework, filing, typing, scanning and photocopying, you name it, all seems so boring. And then you have a day like Friday. No dullness there---- just fear, anxiety, stress all piled on top of one another. I'll take boring please!
     One of the benefits of self-employment is that I can drop everything immediately to look after our girls. It has been a reality based on our eldest daughter's epilepsy that I have had to be able to swoop in, at a moment's notice, to pick her up and put her to bed for the duration of these postictal states which are characterized by headache, fatigue and sometimes nausea. And of course I hover around her for the balance of the day to ensure her health and well-being. My husband has to pick up the slack, work-wise.
     Even parents whose children do not have a chronic health problem know that when your child is ill, everything else becomes unimportant by comparison. There is no bigger deal than getting them well. When your child does have chronic health issues and/or extraordinary needs it is the thread that runs through your every day. One tug and it seems like everything else will unravel as well. If you see us running, we're just trying to keep it all together....

Faithful

   

   
     In the past week we have had the privilege of spending time with a couple of old friends. The husband has been dying in hospital and his wife has been at his side, tirelessly, constantly, holding his hand. It has been a sad time but also a confirmation of all that marriage can be: steady, enduring, sharing and resilient.
     This couple have been together for over thirty years, have four amazing children and have made a wonderful life together in our small community. We met them at our church over fifteen years ago and although we have not spent a lot of time together recently, we both have thought of them often. They are a family of fine people--- caring, responsible and real.
     This husband and father knew that to be faithful in the little things is a big thing. He made huge breakfasts for his children, got them to church every Sunday, did mounds of laundry, often and cheerfully. He was a great dad. This family spent this last Christmas together and when he was seemingly no longer with them they told funny daddy stories. Lots of them. One of the outstanding things about spending this time with him and his wife in the hospital was hearing some of these stories: the funny daddy stories, the even funnier husband and wife stories, and the stories that made their family what it was: precious, rare and real.
     Our friend is gone but he will live on in the memories of his four wonderful children and his warm and loving wife. He will live on in the memories of all of us who valued him as a man and a friend. Happy fishing my friend.... 

Rejection

                                                                         

     One of the hardest experiences of parenting an extraordinary needs child is witnessing their rejection by other children. Social success as a young person seems centred on being like everyone else. When you are different, this type of success is scant at best. When not being able to understand social cues, body language and  facial expression are part of the reason that you are different then not only are you unsuccessful but you are not able to understand why. The mystery is unsolvable; the clues are hidden.
     Our daughter has been treated extraordinarily kindly at times. An elementary school friend recently included her in a birthday dinner even though they attend different high schools in different cities; she took the time and made the effort to include our daughter. There have also been occasions of ignorance and rudeness perpetrated by girls who should know better. You expect strangers to let you down---you don't expect it from family friends.
     As a mother it is intolerable to me that these incidents occur; I find it wretched and heart-breaking. That my daughter continues to be cheerful, polite and caring in the face of this proves that she is the better person --- better than me certainly and better definitely than the unthinking, unfeeling person who has shut her out. Our daughter continues to prove by word and example what a truly exceptional person she is in every way. In the face of negativity, although she is hurt, she moves forward with a smile. That is why she is and always will be my hero, bar none.

Eleven

     Children are always changing, learning and developing sometimes right in front of your eyes. If you don't see a child every day sometimes you can't believe how tall they are all of a sudden or how mature they have become. Our nephew is a good example. He was a cute round faced boy and then it seemed that the next time I saw him he was a much taller, handsome young person with the face of the man he is becoming. So different, so fast!
     In the case of our younger daughter, I have really noticed how different ten is from eleven and I have the sense that twelve will also be a big jump in maturity, knowledge and interests. Our ten year old daughter wanted Lego for Christmas; at eleven she wants an H&M gift card. At ten, she wanted photographic proof that Santa was real; at eleven, she has her own theories about that guy. At ten, she needed nothing with her when she went out the door; at eleven, she remembers to bring her purse with her iPod, wallet and lip gloss inside. I used to read to her at bedtime; now she reads to me.
     As an older mother, these changes in my child are bittersweet. That she is older is true and that also means that I am not only older but old, as well. Sometimes there is a sore knee, a new wrinkle--- this week I have ringing in my ears which will not go away, a sure sign that deafness is right around the corner, according to the Internet. We all want our children to be smart, strong and independent and when you also have a special needs child that goal is ever present in your mind. However, I sometimes long for those crazy, hazy, baby days when just getting yourself in the shower and your baby out of her sleeper and into some real clothes was enough of an objective for the day. Now there are places to drive to, youth groups and dance lessons, movies and sleepovers, pizzas to pay for or pick up. Sometimes, just sometimes I wouldn't mind looking for that soother one more time...now where did I see that again?

Eggs

     Every year about this time, my chickens stop laying eggs. The hens are molting and consequently, they are expending energy on making new feathers and not on making eggs. It is a frustrating time for me because of course, they're still eating just as much as before but their egg output is ridiculously small. (Their other "output" remains the same of course!?) And so I don't have eggs for my customers and they have to go elsewhere. If you have ever had to eat store bought eggs after you have eaten free-range eggs, there is no comparison. You are now spoiled and cannot go back. Fresh really is best.
     This is also the time of year when it becomes clear that those cute little balls of fluff that hatched out in the summer are either hens or roosters. Hens mean more eggs which is good; roosters mean more morning noise which is not so good. Unfortunately, out of the ten pullets we have, three are roosters.  That is too much cockle-doodle-doo for us and also I suspect, for our neighbours.  We already have 4 roosters: Little Jerry Seinfeld, Kermit, Phillip and Benedict. What to do, what to do with an extra rooster or two, or six. Contrary to urban mythology, they are not good eating; I doubt that the whole bunch of them would even make one decent pot of soup. Also I am not in the habit of eating things that I or someone I know has named. Pets do not equal food. Anyway, have you ever tried to kill and then pluck any type of poultry? It is not my idea of a good time.
    So if you need a good rooster or even a bad rooster, look no further. Have I got a bird for you! And if you are an egg customer of mine or someone else's, be patient. Spring is coming---not soon mind you, but it will be here one day, and so will all those bountiful, beautiful, fresh, free range eggs.