11.05.09
The sweetest nectar is within
“Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying our hopes for love, joy and celebration. The hummingbird’s delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, every personal connection has meaning and that laughter is life’s sweetest creation.”
(though I may beg to differ slightly on the last bit – as much as I love laughter, and we laughed a LOT together, I personally think that our two little girls are life’s sweetest creations . . . )
There are countless ways hummingbirds remind me of you. Even a fleeting glimpse of a hummingbird can brighten almost anyone’s day. They are undeniably amazing, beautiful creatures. A hummingbird’s life is ephemeral, just as yours was; but the swift nature of their existence doesn’t take away from what they bring to the world – it only adds more.
I love the symbolism of a hummingbird. Their fluttering wings form the infinity symbol. Infinity. Eternity. They can fly backwards – looking back on the past, but not dwelling there. Remember what was beautiful. Move forward, but pause – hover. Savor each moment – live for it. Sip the nectar. Appreciate the things we love.
They are tireless. Pure energy. Tenacious. They accomplish that which may seem impossible and handle the twists and turns of life with grace and dignity. They seek out the good in life and the beauty in each day.
Hummingbirds love honeysuckle flowers. We have one in our yard and I’ve seen them there. I’m sure they love the nectar, but perhaps they also appreciate the symbolism of the honeysuckle – generosity and devoted, true, undying love.
In some cultures, hummingbirds are believed to be the souls of departed loved ones, or a messenger between worlds. The hummingbird is also said to be able to heal the saddest heart and make anyone glad to be alive again, and that it can heal any grief or pain . . . .
(posted in b/w so skin irritation doesn't show - it was only done last night - and there is no actual colour in it anyway)
Regardless of the effect, I feel honoured to bear a permanent display our everlasting, unconditional love. Life’s greatest gift. A reminder of all that we learned from each other. Of all that you taught me. The writing is even yours – the word, ‘Love’, traced from a note you gave to me over a decade ago – now permanently a part of me, inside and out.
You learned to live the life of a hummingbird – and now you are mine.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
11.03.09
‘Spukey’ Halloween!
Well, the vomit didn’t end after my last post. Caia threw up a bit more in the night and Eibhlin again in the morning, so we took it easy Thursday. No classes, no preschool. Before work I ran around frantically trying to clean as much as I could – wiping down lightswitches, door handles, toys – you name it. My Mom still offered to come over and look after them while I worked but they kept it pretty low key, watching a couple of movies. They seemed to be doing better in the evening, and much better by Friday morning, so we resumed our regular activities. We had pizza night with the Straws, and I noticed that Caia didn’t eat much, but she still seemed fine. I got them off to bed as usual, and was just about to go to bed myself around 10 (though I was planning on working on Eibhlin’s Halloween costume from bed), when Caia threw up again. I had to wake Eibhlin up to change the sheets and decided that Caia and I would sleep on the couch covered in towels for the rest of the night as I was pretty tired of washing sheets and comforters.
It was a pretty restless night, and I started to feel quite sick again myself. I came close to throwing up a couple of times, but was trying to ‘meditate’ it away. I also sat with my head out the window for 10 mins or so at about 3am and the fresh air seemed to help. I felt like I hardly slept at all, and by morning was feeling awful. Both the girls seemed ok, mind you. My Mom took Eibhlin for most of the day so I could take it easy with Caia and nap with her in the afternoon. Of course, now it was Halloween and I hadn’t finished Eibhlin’s costume yet. After the nap I sat and managed to get it done – not exactly how I would have wanted to perhaps, but it wasn’t too bad considering . . .
She loved it anyhow, and Caia looked pretty cute too – though she hated the face paint and wouldn’t let me do anymore that what was poorly done there. She also refused to wear the cow bell, which was too bad. We had a chance to ichat with Peter, and with your parents, so they got to see the girls in their costumes. I managed to eat a little dinner and felt well enough to walk the streets with them trick or treating. We didn’t go to the mall – I wasn’t feeling up for that, but we handed out a bit of candy before we left, my Dad came by to take some photos then switched off with my Mom so she could come trick or treating with us. She offered to stay and hand out candy, but we just left the candy at the door for anyone else who came by. It’s so nice that we live in a neighbourhood where we can do that (though I almost wish someone would have taken it all so I wouldn’t have all the leftovers…).
It was actually a beautiful night – couldn’t have been better for trick or treating. We went with Buz, Sian, the boys and a couple other little friends. Six kids under the age of 5. I think everyone enjoyed it.
It was pretty cute to say the least. Eibhlin was afraid of the decorations at some of the houses, but all in all it wasn’t too bad. There were no fireworks this year though, so that was unfortunate. She was really looking forward to it and had been talking for days about how you took her last year and she wasn’t scared. She remebers that event with you so fondly. I couldn’t help but think of just how much you would have enjoyed the evening. While we never went ‘all out’ as some people do, you always loved Halloween and would get so involved in the decorating, carving pumpkins, playing spooky music – you would always take charge and I could leave most of it up to you. And we had such a fun time trick or treating last year. I remember you carrying Ashley on your shoulders as she was scared. You couldn’t do that for Eibhlin this year. I can picture how you would have been laughing as Caia cried, trying to rip off the cow bell. I tried to keep up with some of what you would have done. I did a bit of decorating – Eibhlin was extremely excited when I put the decorations up and ran around the house chanting ‘Spooky Halloween!’. And I think it was the first time in about 13yrs that I cleaned out a pumpkin, which again was quite exciting for the girls . . .
I had Eibhlin draw what she wanted, and for Caia I drew shapes and she picked out which ones she wanted. I carved one for myself as well . . . .
There’s a heart on it too, but the photo doesn’t show it all. It’s not quite like the pumpkin you carved last year,
but I still like it. The girls had a great time, went to bed pretty quickly, and no more vomit (though Caia still had a restless night). Cali fared somewhat well. I gave her a ‘tiny’ bit of one of those pills to calm her down which helped, and we get so few trick or treaters anyhow, but she still gets so scared of all the firecrackers. Sunday I still wasn’t feeling 100% – though it’s hard to remember what that feels like exactly, as I don’t believe I’ve felt 100% for just over 6 months – but it was another beautiful day. I made the girls ‘pumpkin pancakes’ (I had planned to make them the day before, but I wasn’t up to it) and we spent much of it in the yard. I knew my shoulders would be hating me for it, but I raked the huge amount of leaves that had fallen (with a littlr help…), then managed to mow the lawn one last time before the winter (and yes, I was paying for it later). We found a few new ‘friends’ in the backyard too…
I was initially supposed to go into Vancouver to work today, and was feeling well enough to do so, but when I called Jason to let him know how the girls and I had been feeling the past few days, he thought it would be best to take a rain check on my office day. For the better anyhow, I’m sure.
As for other news, I forgot to mention before that my phone was out for 4 days last week. A repair person came on Tuesday morning and said that it was because of the renos done the wires got damaged and I was afraid I was going to have to pay for the visit, but he was very kind and said I wouldn’t have to. My Dad also came by and helped make sure I had the best configuration for my internet – I had a free trial with another provider, and though the internet speed was much better it costs more, so I think I’ll stick with what I have.
It’s funny how missing you ‘sneaks up’ on me in some ways. Last week I was sitting in the sauna (I tried to commit to going in every day for a week as it seemed to be the only thing making my tendonitis better…) and before getting out I decided I wanted to think a little about things that bring me peace about this situation. I wanted to be able to come and write a more positive letter rather than the usual heartache. I was thinking of some things that give me peace – that we truly loved one another and not even death could take that away from us was one – but then I just started to cry.
Last night, I was doing yet another load of laundry (I’ve washed almost everything in the house that could go in the machine trying to get rid of this stomach bug), and it included the quilt I usually use while I’m sitting on the couch. I looked over to the quilt on the other couch, but I have barely touched that quilt since you died (I’ve also only sat on that couch for about a minute since, and I had to move it from where it was that night). I had put it over you after you fell asleep there that night. It was the nice big one that Gloria made, that was big enough for us both to fit under and we often would sit together under it while watching tv. I was a bit cold (and I don’t usually use the fireplace as much after the girls are in bed) and tried to convince myself that it was just a quilt. As soon as I brought it over and had it on my lap, I started to cry.
Then today. I had hopped into the shower in the afternoon, after work and before the girls were due back with Sian, and was just about to turn the water off. I put my razor on that little wire shelf hanging from the shower head, when something else fell off. I looked down and saw just a little piece of soap. But it was your soap. I had no idea it was even there. My razor has been on and off that shelf countless times, but I hadn’t seen the soap before. I picked it up and it almost felt like it was burning a hole through my hand. It felt hot. I could smell it – of course the smell reminded me of you. I started to cry. Then I almost started laughing at myself for crying over a piece of soap, but that made me cry more and it was hard just to bring myself to put it back on the shelf. Just a little piece of soap, that caught me completely off guard. It’s not like I don’t come across your things every day – I sleep in one of your t-shirts for goodness sake. Your shoes are always falling off the shoe rack. I’ve started wearing your touque…
But for some reason this soap got to me. Anyhow – as much as it doesn’t sound that way, I don’t spend all day every day crying, it’s just impossible not to miss you. People who meet me (and don’t already know) have no idea anything is amiss in my life (sorry I couldn’t think of a better word). A few people have even told me that I ‘sound good’ recently. I’m not sure that I sound any different, but if people can see a difference, then perhaps it’s true. I feel pretty much the same, though I know some of the reading I’ve been doing has been helpful and perhaps that has made a subtle, miniscule, shift.
Anyhow, I need to get to sleep, but I hope you enjoyed the photos. We miss you and love you so very much. You are loved. And, almost on que, here comes Caia down the hall. Eventually they’ll sleep through the night, right?
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.28.09
Mmmmm….puke
Sorry for the brief, graphic letter tonight – but nothing says ’single parenting sucks’ like spending an afternoon/evening trying to clean up vomit from not one, but two, simultaneously puking children. Ok, well – only the last time they threw up it was at the ‘exact’ same time - Eibhlin had actually thrown up a couple of times earlier in the evening and Caia’s came a bit later – but it’s close enough.
I have more to say, but it’s been a long night already and since my stomach is not feeling that great either, I’ll save it for another day. I’m hoping that they are done now and will sleep the rest of the night, but the last time I wished that out loud it was only moments later that they were both spitting into bowls (thankfully I had the presence of mind to put two bowls on the bed). We’ll see – I can’t imagine there’s that much left in them to come out.
The other tough thing about is, I couldn’t help but think about the last time we had to deal with Eibhlin’s upset stomach……
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.25.09
Isn’t there anything we can do . . . ?
Hello My Love,
At some point during Caia’s restless sleep last night, she ended up in bed with me (not unlike every other night, mind you). Once there she slept much better and woke up initially rather cheerful. I was still half asleep, pleased that she seemed content to cheerfully chirp away beside me for a bit before getting out of bed. I wasn’t paying much attention to what she was ‘talking’ about initially – until her tone changed. Then I was awake. I think she had been playing with her locket and had been saying ‘Daddy’, among other things. Then, the happy tone changed and she began crying for you. She just kept repeating ‘Daddy, daddy, daddy’ as she cried. She wanted you. Then she asked to nurse for the first time in about a week (and right after I rebooked my tattoo appointment), but she was just upset overall and didn’t persist with the request as I tried to find other ways calm her down. What can I do? She misses you too, but it’s not like I can help her understand why you’re not here.
In some ways it’s easier that Eibhlin understands it – but sometimes I wish she didn’t. It’s unfortunate that a 4yr old has to loose some of that magical thinking they are gifted with at this age (right after you died, she believed that if she brought her magic wand, or anything else ‘really special to the viewing, it would bring you back to life). Who knows if it’s better to understand or not? But for the most part she seems to understand the permanence of the situation all too well. The other day while brushing our teeth before bed she told me she had an idea. She wanted to ‘play a secret’ on Sian (secrets seem to be a new thing for her now, and I guess she doesn’t get the concept completely just yet…). She told me that we should pretend that you didn’t die. Now there’s a slippery slope. How do you balance allowing your child to have a playful imagination, yet in a serious situation such as this, not let it get out of hand where it could be unhealthy for them? She seemed excited about the idea and I didn’t want to squash her sense of fun in it, so I asked her how she thought it would work since Sian already knew that Daddy had died. She said we could just pretend for fun, but she didn’t pursue it any further. She was feeling a bit sad tonight as we went to bed. She told me how much she misses you lying with her to put her to sleep. Then she asked me if I was sure, ‘Isn’t there anything we can do to bring Daddy back?’ What I wouldn’t do to bring you back . . . . I’m always glad when she opens up to talk to me about it, yet it’s hard when she does. I don’t want to have to tell her the true answer to that. But I do.
Thursday was a tough day (though I did get a chance to ichat with Anthony and Kayla for a bit in the morning). The six month anniversary of your death hit harder than many of the others. I’m glad it was a slower day for work because I was pretty distracted and just had to take everything a little slower myself. Buz and Sian had us over in the after I finished work and we stayed for dinner. At one point Eibhlin climbed up on Buz’s lap to test out his chair hydraulics. She looked so happy and leaned back on him at one point, with her head on his chest. They looked so sweet – and though it made me miss you, being able to see you with her like that – I felt some comfort to be reminded that she still has regular, positive, adult male influences in her life. Buz is involved in helping look after the girls all day Monday, and we spend a lot of time with them otherwise, so it’s nice to know that the girls are getting at least a bit of a balance.
Friday was a busy day; I had to work in lieu of my day off Tuesday, but first I went to the doctor to have the ‘vascular lesion’ removed from my forehead. I’ve had it since I was a kid and it never really bothered me, but it seems like since my pregnancy with Caia and all the stress of losing you perhaps, it grew slightly. The doctor said they do tend to grow with age, but it’s not even remotely related to a mole or anything cancerous so it’s nothing to worry about. When he removed it he said they always send everything to get checked anyhow, but he was 100% certain it was benign. I firmly believe, based on the information I’ve read, that this is true – but I told him, ‘No offence, but that word doesn’t mean much to my family any more’. Caia had music so my mom took the girls, and I went to the clinic on my own. I missed having you there to hold my hand and make annoying jokes to ease the tension I feel about things like that. I would have even taken a repeat of when I had my last mole removed and you insisted on watching (because you liked watching operation shows), only to make gagging sounds like you were about to puke, and have to sit down, letting go of my hand you were supposed to be holding. Still, as I was lying there wishing you were with me, I realized that this was nothing compared to what you endured over the years. You were on chemo for over 8 months and never missed a day of work. Five weeks of radiation and it was the same. You even went to work the day you had the seizure at 2am, only to have them send you home after hearing what happened. The only reason you stopped working was to give the naturopathic treatment a solid try, and that we just couldn’t do while you worked because of the travel. Oh yeah, you also had two brain surgeries. Yes. If you could do that, I could take three stitches in my forehead on my own.
It wasn’t too bad, but we had a bit of a laugh as later in the day I was sitting with Buz and Sian in their van with Caia and Dylan while we were waiting for Eibhlin and Brandon to finish acro class (it was pouring rain and the waiting room is pretty small). I was sitting in the passenger seat and turned to look behind me and managed to bash my stitches on the knob that changes the height of the seatbelt. It hurt, but I didn’t notice anything else. A moment later, however, I put my hand up to the bandaid and there was quite a bit of blood. I looked in the mirror on the visor and sure enough I had a good stream of blood running right down my face and neck. After a quick clean and patch job with a new bandaid, all was fine. It’s still a bit sore, mainly because Caia keeps knocking it somehow, but it’s not so bad.
The season is definitely changing. Fall was typically one of my favourite seasons, with the changing of the colours – and though I will always appreciate it still, it’s just another sign of how long you’ve been gone. The dull grey fog that also comes with this season seems to sum things up pretty well.
As I go, here are a few more photos from past days, including the ‘low man on the totem pole’, the lovely Cali. I feel for her too. I’m sure she misses you, and I know she doesn’t get the play and attention she used to either (unless you consider me yelling at her to stop barking attention…). I often pass her food dishes while I’m mid-task, and try to tell myself to remember to fill those up when I’m done. This will happen a few times throughout the day before I finally remember to do it. I know she’s not starving/thirsty as if it ever gets to that point she’ll just stand and lick her empty dishes incessantly until I do something about it – she’ll never let me forget – but I still feel badly for her. She drives me crazy in many ways, I’m tired of poop scooping, and I’m worried about her getting older, but I love her – she keeps me company at night and I’m glad she’s around.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.22.09
6 months
How could it be? How could it possibly be??? I hate to sound redundant, but I absolutely cannot believe that six months has passed since you died. Six months ago I was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital with you in the back, your life slipping away. Time doesn’t seem to make sense to me at all any more. In some ways six months seems like an eternity – but in the same breath I can say that it feels like the blink of an eye. That night is so vivid in my mind as if it ‘just’ happened, yet 183 days have passed. Half a year. I suppose in the grand scheme of things it’s not that long – but without you, it is an eternity.
Especially when you consider that, since our first kiss over 13yrs ago, we had never spent more than 4 days apart. It’s difficult for me to put into words how it feels to be apart from you, but a friend shared this that speaks volumes, in the softest possible way.
But, here we are. Six months out. I miss everything about you, but not just what you brought to me. Six months since you held our beautiful little girls. Since you told them yourself that you love them. Now I tell them every day for you. I give them kisses from Daddy (and zerberts too). They have changed so much. Do you know? Can you see them?? Do you hear Caia squeal ‘Daddy!’ whenever she sees your picture? Do you hear Eibhlin say ‘I love you Daddy’ before bed every night??? I believe in my heart you do but I want so much to know that it’s true.
Though, there are some things I wouldn’t want you to see. I wouldn’t want you to see my periodic lack of patience with the girls. My lack of energy to play and be silly with them as before. My lack of knife skills. My breakdowns. How hard all of this is. Because I know how much you worried. I know how you hated that this would be my life. The girls’ life. You so often said that you felt bad because you got the ‘easy part’. I would still debate that with you, but this is so very hard. It’s exhausting. I am trying though. It’s work, every day, but I’m putting the effort in – some days more than others (some days not much at all), but it’s always there. I hope you see that too. It’s for you. It’s because of you. It’s my love for you.
As I was driving the other day I heard a song that brought on instant in tears:
Traveler of the great divides
Vagrant on a path to life
Everyday feels a little closer
To where it is that you’re headed for
Given to a hope of so much more
For every time you fall apart
There’ll be a soul to guide your journey
But if you choose to turn away
There in the mirror
You’ll see my face
You’ll see my face
Think you’re on this road alone
Looking for a truth untold
Many times you’ve been close to breaking
Giving up and letting go
Something inside says it’s not over
And when the world crowds your space
Remember days when noise was silent
No empty vows, loveless displays
Just a sense of knowing
You’d see my face
You’d see my face
I knew I’d heard it before yet couldn’t place it. I had the sense it was from a number on So You Think You Can Dance, so I got home and googled it. The song is called ‘The Face’, and sure enough, it was from a routine in the first season of the Canadian edition – Blake’s beautiful choreography, amazingly danced, depicting a woman who lost her love and she just wants to see his face again. I remember watching it with you last year and it had both of us in tears. At that point we knew it was our likely future. What I wouldn’t give to see your face again. The song lyrics are beautiful and I know that you are the soul that guides me now, but needless to say I would much rather have you here in person. And it’s not about all the extra ‘work’ that needs to be done now that I’m alone – I would gladly do it all and then some, just to still have you in my life. I didn’t know the heart could hurt this much, yet keep beating.
For all I write, there’s always still so much more I want to say – I never feel like I can get it out quite right. There’s just an insanely, constant swirl of emotions and thoughts in my head.
There are too many others who have walked this path before me, and too many more who are following behind. For all of their understanding, support, blogs, comments – for the voice of a fellow widow/widower – I am forever grateful. I have been told that this is survivable. There have been points where it doesn’t seem to be; nevertheless I am still here so they must be right. Where do I go from here?
Six months, and a day I suppose.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.21.09
the last goodnight
why do i stay up so late?
why don’t i go to sleep at a reasonable time? it would be sensible. it would make things easier.
but i can’t choose sleep. sleep has to take me. unwillingly.
i watch mindless tv, and if i don’t fall asleep on the couch i drag myself to bed and still spend time on-line or reading. i know one/both of the girls will be up in the night. i know another day will start without you whether i sleep or not. it doesn’t make a difference.
my eyes hurt. i’m tired. i can barely stay awake but i can’t ‘go’ to sleep. it’s too hard.
i miss my last goodnight.
your hand to hold, shoulder to kiss, mumbled i love yous.
you. my last goodnight.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.19.09
Im in! . . . . maybe???
Well, as far as the people at Aspire are concerned I’m in – they will now forward their approval to the government and it goes from there. At the orientation session they said that only a very few people who get accepted into the program are actually turned down by the government, but on Friday they told me that the govt is getting pickier about things. Their concern is the fact that I am currently employed and the main purpose for the program is for people who are unemployed.
When I started talking to Jason about my return to work a little after you died, I wasn’t sure what my income needs would be. There was a great chance that I would need to work full time, and in the number of conversations he and I had at that time, he never stated with certainty that this would be a possibility. This is when I started looking at other options, and strongly considered the Aspire program to begin with. When all the dust was settled, I figured that if I stick to my budget (and I’ve been doing a pretty good job of it – sometimes too good . . .), I can still get by on my part time hours for now. I’ve appreciated that because it’s afforded me to have some ‘free time’ (to keep up with the house and the girls of course), but I know I’ll also need to do more eventually. Apparently the government used to look at cases for their individual circumstances a lot more than they do now. This is where a problem could come up if they just see that I’m working and don’t take the rest of our situation into consideration. They may think that I should just try to find another full time job instead, regardless if it means that it may not fit our family needs. Or, if they think that the number of hours Jason could offer would be enough, regardless of the periodic emotional stress of the job, that I should just stay there.
I’m hopeful that it will all work out, and I really want to be happy, but I guess I’m cautiously optimistic. Can’t count the chickens yet, so to speak. The nice thing to hear, however, was that the committee was very impressed with my presentation, they loved my concept and thought I had a solid business plan. The presentation went quite quickly, and after a few initial nerves were out of the way I was feeling pretty confident. I’m not sure when I’ll find out for sure, but I guess it will still be another week or two until I get the final decision from the government. So, the wait is still on after all.
As for the rest of the past few days, the girls and I spent much of Friday with our ‘extended family’, the Straws, and though at the end of the day the girls fell asleep quickly, they were both sleeping fairly restlessly – waking often and crying out a number of times just within the 3hrs between when they fell asleep and when I was going to go to bed. I figured that I wasn’t going to get much sleep in my own bed, so I went to sleep with them. They seemed to settle better with me there, but the funniest thing was – at about 3:30 am I suddenly heard a little ‘pitter patter’ down the hallway. I rolled over and noticed that Caia was no longer beside me. I got up, and sure enough, she had gone to get into my bed. I guess her habit of doing so was so strong she didn’t even bother to take notice of where I actually was. I carried her back to her room (I didn’t want her rolling off my bed) and we all slept a few more hours.
Saturday was another busy day as I had the orientation session at the preschool. It was mainly to go over some basic first aid, the fire drill and the earthquake drill. The first aid information was mainly for helping with choking, but as it went on and she was talking about calling 911 and describing what happens after a person looses consciousness and how long it takes before brain cells start to die, and then death occurs, I had to resist the urge to run for the door (into the terrential downpour of rain we had that day). Even though this is not what happened to you, it still brought up that night again so clearly. For a brief moment I even felt quite hot and worried that if I started feeling worse I may pass out – almost like I feel when I visit people in a hospital – but I drank lots of water and the feeling passed. And if I had passed out, at least there was someone trained in first aid there to help! Buz and Sian had been looking after the girls, so in trade I helped look after the boys in the afternoon so Sian could get a bit of rest. By the end of the day I was pretty tired and ended up falling asleep with the girls. The house has been a bit of a growing disaster, so most of today was spent trying to clean up a bit. I got a little side-tracked as always, but had a somewhat productive day none the less. I felt badly for the girls being cooped up all day (Eibhlin was asking repeatedly to go outside, but there’s been a lot of rain lately and I’m sure the yard is just a mine-field as I haven’t been ‘poop-scooping’ for a while), and I was too busy to do much to help entertain them, but they played fairly well together – ok, not counting when Caia scratched Eibhlin’s face . . . she’s a feisty one, just like we knew she would be.
It’s hard to explain just how much and in how many ways I miss you. I was looking at photos today. Some of you and the girls splashing in the hot tub from last summer. The three of you looked like you were having the time of your lives. Such a happy photo, but in an instant it brought me to tears. I miss that smile. I miss seeing the girls with you, and you with the girls.
Photos are so hard. I love looking at you, but it hurts so much that it can’t be in any way other than a photo. It’s also hard looking at how many photos have been taken since you died. Seeing how much the girls have changed without you here to see it. Seeing how much time has passed, how much we have done without you. Seeing the first photos taken of them after you died – the day after. I hate knowing that there is a photo that exists that is the last of the two of us together. I want more.
And, I know it sounds vain and I know you’d be annoyed with me, but I hate that I don’t like how I look in that photo (you look handsome as always). I know there are lots of good photos of us together, but I wish that one could have been great. That said, I do love that in the photo I feel like it’s easy to see just how much we loved eachother. And, at least it turned out a little better than this one,
It seems like all the last photos of us together are all ‘self portraits’. I should ask around and see if anyone has anything they took of the two of us. Before I’m off to try to get some sleep, Bridie sent me a link to an amazing blog the other day. The writer lost her infant son a couple of years ago – this is one of the posts she wrote about her loss. Her writing is beautiful, no words really to describe it (but bring out the tissues). She writes about the loss of the potential of a child as well as her loss of her ability to be that child’s mother, and, though you were able to live more of a life than this child did, I find I relate to the loss of potential of you being a father to the girls and my loss of growing old with you, being your wife. It’s about loss, and it’s about love. And that is what really keeps us going.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.16.09
Wish me luck
Hello My Love,
I’m going to do my presentation for the Aspire committee tomorrow. It’s the final step for the application process. I thought I would feel really nervous about it, but for some reason I’m not at all. Good thing? Bad thing? I’m not sure. Anyhow, I hope all goes well as it would be an incredible opportunity and it would make it easier to achieve my goals if I got into the program. As much as I appreciate the Cummings and value what they have done for me, I think a change is needed. I have a much harder time focusing at work these days, and I have to be far more careful than I used to be – I used to just ‘know’ the policies; now I’m terribly worried about making a mistake because I feel like I don’t know anything. This morning we had a training session with a rep from one of the insurance companies and I was taking part over the phone. The only example of a pre-existing health condition the rep could seem to come up with was cancer. At one point he made it sound like it was less severe than high blood pressure. Don’t get me wrong, I know hbp is no small potatoes, but come on. Really, though, insurance was never something I was passionate about, it was something I was good at – and even then it was more the customer service side of things that kept me going. I can do that in a store. My store.
I went to the doctor today – I had to get a medical note signed to say that I was fit to handle my ‘duty days’ at the preschool (I get to go once a month to help out). While there I asked about my shoulders. I have tendonitis. The left shoulder is pretty bad. At least it’s confirmed that something is wrong with me and I’m not just being whiney. He suggested physiotherapy, but with everything going on it seems near impossible to try and schedule something like that in, and I don’t have benefits any longer anyhow. He gave me a handout with a few exercises and stretches and said to ice them and rest them. That’s a little tough to do when you’re the only adult in a house. I think the fact that if this doesn’t work, a shot of cortisone is my next option – so that’s a little motivation to try and at least throw some ice on them once in a while . . . I also borrowed my mom’s tens machine and maybe that will help. Or I could just live with it like I have for the past 5 months.
It seems that Caia has finished nursing. She missed a few days recently – she hadn’t really asked, or if she had it came at a time when I couldn’t and she didn’t really persist, and though I would tell her she could nurse later, she’d never ask again that day. As of last night she had gone a couple of days straight without even asking and I figured I could probably consider it ended there, but then it hit me that the final time would have passed without me knowing it. It’s been an ever constant part of my life for the past 4 1/2yrs, so it seemed strange to just let it drop completely. Then I felt like if she was done, it would be nice to see if she was interested to nurse just one more time so I could have that last moment and then we could celebrate. ‘Closure’ of sorts. Of course this morning she did end up asking to nurse again anyhow (mainly to stop Eibhlin from cuddling with me), but I didn’t have time. In the afternoon I asked her if she was all finished with milk and she said ‘Yeah’, though when I asked her if she wanted to nurse one more time, she said yes. It really is such a special bond, sweet and loving, but then once she starts pushing her feet on my neck and playing with my hair to the point of yanking it out, I realize I won’t miss it entirely. It’s also been nice that she’s stopped writhing around screaming ‘ouck’ (her current work for milk) at me, especially in public. After she finished we decided to make some vegetarian rice krispie treats to mark the occasion. It was fun and the girls really enjoyed it. I got the idea from a blogger I read who celebrated her kids weaning with cake (she also writes beautifully about moving forward through grief, among many other things). Anyhow, we’ll see how it goes tomorrow, and perhaps it’s time to book the tattoo appointment again soon . . . .
I had a tough time getting the girls to bed tonight. It was taking forever, and I got up to go put the bedtime music on. I hadn’t been using it for months, but just started to do it again in the past couple of days. As I sat at the computer hoping to have a moment to myself before going back in, before I knew it both girls and come in with me. Eibhlin had the sad puppy look on her face and said that the song playing reminded her of you. Not surprising. It was the first song I would almost always play when you were putting her to bed, Josh Groban’s You Raise Me Up (it’s how I always wanted her to think about you). Still, her sadness seemed more like a convenient attempt to get out of bed and come see what I was up to or get my attention, because I have been playing the music for her a number of nights recently and this was the first time it came up. I hate to think like that – I don’t want to believe she’s capable of trying to use that grief to her advantage, but once in a while it feels that way. And, sometimes, though it starts that way it can turn into the sincere grief. So I comforted her, we all went back to bed, and she snuggled up and calmed down. A few songs later one came that hit me – Wintersong by Sarah McLaughlin. Damn. Why is that song on there??? I’ll have to take it off because there’s NO way I can listen to that all the time right now, and not just because it’s too early for a Christmassy song:
The lake is frozen over
The trees are white with snow
And all around
Reminders of you
Are everywhere I go
It’s late and morning’s in no hurry
But sleep won’t set me free
I lie awake and try to recall
How your body felt beside me
When silence gets too hard to handle
And the night too long
And this is how I see you
In the snow on Christmas morning
Love and happiness surround you
As you throw your arms up to the sky
I keep this moment by and by
Oh I miss you now, my love
Merry Christmas, merry Christmas,
Merry Christmas, my love
Sense of joy fills the air
And I daydream and I stare
Up at the tree and I see
Your star up there
And this is how I see you
In the snow on Christmas morning
Love and happiness surround you
As you throw your arms up to the sky
I keep this moment by and by
Even now it makes me cry. And there the two of us were, in tears. Still, she calmed down again fast and I got up to leave the room for just a few moments (to rub some tiger balm on my shoulder), hoping she may doze off as now Caia was finally asleep and it was almost 9:30. As soon as I left the room, the whimpering started again. I turned off the music, told her she didn’t need to worry any more, it was time for sleep, and that I loved her. Then I went to make a phone call. Shortly thereafter she was asleep. As I said, I hate thinking that she would use sadness about your death as a ‘card’ to play, but the girl does have a flair for the dramatics. Yesterday she was in her room with Caia and I hear what sounded like jumping on the bed. Just as I was uttering words about not jumping – THUNK. Pause. Cry. I went into the room doing my best to lead with comfort and not ‘I told you so’. Once the tears had passed I asked her if she thought that perhaps that was why Mama says not to jump on the bed?? And I got back (cue tears), ‘It’s not fair! Other kids get to jump on their beds and I don’t get to, and it’s not fair!’ Huh? This starts at 4??? I thought this came out around 16 with ‘other kids get to drive’ or ‘other kids get to stay out until 1am’, something like that. I’ve got my work cut out for me with this one. She also spent a good 10 minutes trying to convince me that you could get the metaphoric twig of sadness to stay under water if you just pushed it down deep enough, fast enough, gentle enough, shallow enough, or if you just talked to it and told it to stay down (ok, to explain – I’ve been reading her a book about a little girl who has a hard time expressing her grief after her dad died. It’s called Samantha Jane’s Missing Smile, and they discuss how trying to push away sad feelings is like trying to push a twig down in water, it will always come back to the surface). Eibhlin still has a hard time expressing her grief, which is why I don’t want to ignore her when she ‘seems’ to show it, but that’s another reason why I feel like what happened tonight was mostly less than sincere; because when it does come out, it usually comes out big. But, who knows. I just try to support her as best as I can.
Well, I’d better get to bed before my presentation tomorrow. I miss you like crazy. I miss everything about you, but earlier tonight in particular I was missing your laugh. And right now, the feel of your arms around me. That safe, warm, comfortable feeling. Lifting me off my feet. There is nothing in the world I wouldn’t give to have a hug from you. I’d never let go.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.11.09
Thanksgivings
Hello My Love,
I am terribly sorry for how long it’s been since I last wrote. It has been an extremely difficult time these past days. My last letter was the night before Caia’s 2nd birthday, her first without you, and though I was still reeling from the emotions next day I had planned to write you that night and share some of the day and the photos, but a new ordeal began. I received a tremendously hurtful message and I unfortunately allowed this person’s condemnation and judgment (and incorrect assumptions) challenge me on my decision to write and on the content of what I have written. I questioned myself. I tortured myself going back over the old Caringbridge posts from shortly before you died (though most of them I couldn’t read in their entirety as it was too painful). It was all incredibly upsetting. I know writing in this forum opens up the possibility for things like that, but I think if it was a random stranger it would have been easier to take. I didn’t imagine that someone I had once felt close to would be so hurtful at a time like this, and for what? But, in the end I decided that I need to write. People who don’t like it don’t need to read it (and if they read it anyway, they don’t need to send hurtful messages). I write for myself, and for my girls. It may be ridiculous, but I feel like I am writing to you and it gives me a small sense of peace, which can be very hard to come by these days.
It has been incredibly busy with our full schedule up and running. I sometimes have a hard time keeping track of what’s going on from one day to the next – I need to find a way to be more organized, as it’s tougher keeping up with the house now too. I’ve fallen asleep on the couch the past number of nights (another reason it’s taken me some time to write again) as it seems my body has just given up on staying up late. There’s so much to do, and still so much gets left undone. It’s funny how, though I always talk about how much you did around the house (because you did a lot), we really were a team and we worked together. There were jobs that we just naturally each took on, without any real discussion/argument. I ‘usually’ was the one to unload the dishwasher, for example. Even though I used to do this job 95% of the time and it never bothered me, now that I know I’m the only one to do it – I can’t stand it. Likewise I’ve found with a number of other jobs that were primarily mine. I guess it’s also because there are so many ‘new’ ones added to the list, but it’s funny how I’ve come to hate jobs that I used to have no problem with.
I’ll get to Caia’s birthday in a moment, but in the days following that (aside from the afore mentioned added grief) I had to finalize my application for the Aspire program and submit it. The following Saturday we went to the fall fair at Eibhlin’s preschool. It was a fundraiser for a new playground they want to build. It was a beautiful day and the girls had a great time. At first I was so busy keeping up with them checking everything out, but when we finally sat down for a bite to eat and I looked around the playground, I saw all these dads playing with their kids, and I felt a sudden pit growing in my stomach. It’s hard. It was close to Caia’s nap time anyhow, so we packed up and left. The next day (Sunday) we went to visit with your parents. I had to work in Vancouver on the Monday, so we came a day early to see them and spend the night. They looked after the girls for a few hours on Sunday while I went to Catherine’s for a massage and a visit with her. It was SO great to see her, the massage was awesome, and we shared a few laughs and tears about you as well. On Monday your parents looked after the girls while I worked, and they had a long walk at the bird sanctuary and went to the pumpkin patch. The rest of the week seemed to fly by – on Wednesday night we had another parent’s meeting at the preschool and I managed to sit through all of that one. Yesterday we went to a birthday party and were invited to stay through dinner, which was really nice, and this morning I had my parents over for a waffle breakfast and then we went with my Mom to the annual fair at Quality Farms.
Caia’s birthday ended up going as well as can be expected I think. Caia woke up beside me and spotted the photo I had framed for her almost right away. She looked at it so lovingly, and clearly enjoyed looking at the other photos from her birth as well. It’s so hard to believe you have been gone for almost a quarter of her life now. I made the girls pancakes for breakfast, then Sian picked up Eibhlin for the music-preschool run and my Mom took Caia to the grand opening celebration at Cedar Grove for their new playground. After I was off work, we went to my parent’s house for dinner and presents. Caia was very excited for the day, and that was one thing that kept me going and keeping it together – there was still something to celebrate about the day – but I could physically feel the effect of missing you throughout the day. My stomach felt almost nauseous and my head felt ‘spinny’ for much of the day. After dinner we all headed back to our house to have Buz, Sian and the boys over for cake. I managed to get through the singing and blowing out of candles without turning into a blubbering mess, though it took a lot of deep, calming breaths before and after. It was an ice cream cake from IGA. It was good, and of course it made me think of the ice cream cake you made for Eibhlin’s 3rd birthday . . . . (though you probably don’t want me to remind you – but it tasted SO good, regardless of how it looked!). I couldn’t help but notice that when all the pieces were handed out, there was one piece left on the platter, and I decided that it must have been yours (though I still ate it the next night). It was only after the girls were in bed and that the tears came. I lay down on the couch and felt like I had just run a marathon. My whole body felt weak and still had the light headed and nauseous feeling. You were definitely a part of the day, but it hurt so much to have you absent.
The week to come should be another busy one. I have orientation at the preschool on Saturday so I can do the parent duty days, and I also need get a doctor’s signature and arrange to do an observation day this week so I’ll need to adjust my work schedule around that. On Friday I have my presentation for the Aspire program, and I should find out that afternoon if I’m in or not. I’m obviously hopeful to get in, but it will be good to know either way so I can try to make more arrangements in advance for when the program starts if I get in, or figure out what I need to do otherwise moving forward.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I had really wanted to write something hopeful and post about the things I am thankful for – because they do still exist, but at the same time I didn’t have the best day today, and Thanksgiving was always one of our favourite holidays, so it’s again really hard to miss you on this day. I loved the fact that it’s not a ‘hallmark’ holiday. It’s not for gift giving. It’s not about big characters bringing things for kids. It’s just getting together with the people you love and sharing a wonderful meal, and being thankful for what you have. And we no longer have you. You always loved being a part of the cooking – whether you did the whole meal at our house, or if you helped out wherever we went, you loved having extra people to cook for and were amazing at putting together big, delicious meals. You even made brussel sprouts taste delicious (something else I must have picked up from you because I made some pretty decent ones the other night). It was fun just watching you in the kitchen on a day like that. So busy and focused, but you managed to have so much fun too. When people would inevitably come and ask you questions about how you did something and why, you would always take the time to explain it. When you would taste something someone else made, if they asked for suggestions you managed to find a gentle way to offer something helpful without offending them. It was easy to see why you were such a good teacher. The kitchen will seem awfully empty tomorrow.
It was also three years ago this weekend that we moved into this house. I still remember that first night here so clearly. It had been a long day, we were pretty tired from the move, but when we finally got to lie down on our mattress on floor, we couldn’t hear anything but the crickets. It was so quiet and peaceful, and we just had the sense that we had made the right decision to move here. It felt so right. We looked at each other with big smiles, and knew that the other was thinking the same thing. We were thankful.
Now, though it is hard I still am thankful. Thankful for our home (though it often feels so empty at times). Thankful for our two little girls who I love so dearly. Thankful for my family and friends who have somehow managed to make this experience a little more bearable (which says a lot more than it sounds like . . . ). Thankful that I’m finding a way to creep forward and make the days as best as they can be for the girls and me. And most of all I’m thankful for you. For the life and love you gave me.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
09.30.09
Our Baby is turning 2
Hello My Love,
Two years ago – almost to the minute – Caia was born, and yours were the first hands to touch her. A moment of beauty that will forever last in my heart, and in hers.
I remember my labour so clearly. It was jump started with a dose of caster oil (mixed into an iced cappuccino of course), due in part to the fact that I didn’t want to be induced in the hospital, but more so because you were due for an MRI in a few days because of the seizure you had 8 days earlier. I was determined to go with you – which no one seemed to agree with – but I sure didn’t want you to be gone and have me go into labour without you. I was so happy that labour started within just a few hours of taking the castor oil, and it progressed beautifully.
I put Eibhlin to bed, and after a bit hopped into the bath. When transition hit the contractions were intense – but I remember talking and laughing with you excitedly in between them. You kept telling me how amazing I was. You were encouraging, loving, supportive, and all I could have hoped for. I just remember thinking how much I loved you, Eibhlin, and this new little person we were about to meet. My excitement for that imminent moment gave just the right focus for the contractions. The midwife could see how well we were doing and gave us space to just be together and enjoy the time. The love in the room was palpable.
When the time came to push, Eibhlin woke up and came in the room for a few minutes, but she then decided she wanted to watch Cat in the Hat with Nana and Papa who had arrived moments earlier. It wasn’t too long before Caia’s time had come and the midwives gave you the option to ‘catch’. You weren’t sure at first, but suddenly you only had a few seconds to decide, and opted to go for it. I can still see you holding up that tiny, pink, squirmy baby. In your excitement you started to lift her higher so I could get a better look, but the umbilical cord was precariously draped across her neck and I think Auz, Petra and I all blurted out something to catch your attention. A few minutes later Eibhlin came to meet her little sister, and there we were - a family of four. I remember you holding her, smiling down at her. The first touch she felt and the first face she saw. She may not have visual memories of this moment, but as Gilly said, it is a moment that is imprinted on her heart. Nothing will ever take that away. (it’s just too bad the first time she saw you, your hair was that awful yellow/blonde colour from the cops for cancer fundraiser =)
I firmly believe that to be true. Tonight, as we were about to get ready for bed, I asked Eibhlin to pick out her jammies. As she left to do so, Caia started saying, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” in her happy little tone. I wasn’t sure why, but it’s not entirely out of the ordinary for her to do so – it’s just usually prompted by a photo or her locket, and that didn’t seem to be the case this time. I asked her if she wanted me to get her jammies for her, or if she wanted to pick them out. Usually she asks me to, but tonight she wanted to. A moment later she came running back in the room, waving her t-shirt with your face on it, again exclaiming “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” She has worn it many times as a shirt, but never to sleep in. I thought it was interesting. It made me smile. As I was putting reading the girls their bed time stories, Martin called. The girls were waiting while I spoke a bit with him, and Caia started saying, “Daddy home. Daddy home.” a number of times. It’s hard to explain her tone though – she did not sound sad – she almost sounded like she was ‘asking’ for you to be home, but more like she was stating a fact, and she sounded content. I guess only she knows, but again, it made me smile.
I do think Caia’s been a little short-changed in the birthday department. She was born not long after your seizure and only two days after her birth we received confirmation of what we had suspected, your tumour had grown back again, and this time you would be going on chemo. I, of course, having lost my battle to come with you to Vancouver, had to get the news over the phone. What was supposed to be only a happy, wonderful time; became a frightening, uncertain time as well. Caia’s first birthday came just a few weeks after getting confirmation of again what we had suspected, your tumour had grown – though this time it was extremely extensive and growing much faster. We had just started with Dr Chan a few days earlier, and were unexpectedly staying with your parents. We had not prepared anything for Caia’s birthday, and I remember you bought her present (a book) the day of her birthday, while shopping with her. No wrapping paper, we just took it out of the bag from the store. We did have cake with your parents, but there were many things about that night day that just didn’t go as one would hope for their child’s first birthday. I know she won’t remember this, but I do.
Now, a year later, I was not planning on doing anything big for her birthday as I didn’t feel I had the emotional capacity to do so. I hadn’t even planned on buying a present, knowing she would be well looked after in that department by others and she wouldn’t be missing out. As I lay in bed last night I started feeling badly about this, so this afternoon I dropped Eibhlin off at ballet and went to London Drugs, with Caia on my back in the ergo, and bought her present while shopping with her. And yes, it was a book (as well as some new markers). This time I plan to wrap it at least though, and she was distracted by other things and didn’t really see what I bought. And, true to my usual form, I had an idea late this evening to frame a photo of the two of you together – I had to ‘borrow’ a frame that had a different photo in it, and perhaps I’ll buy another one later. I believe the photo is the last one I have of just the two of you. We were at the park near your parents’ home, and you were helping her down the slide. I used the photo in the slide show at your memorial. I love it. Looking at it, I can hardly believe that less than two weeks later you were gone. I also printed a few out from the day she was born for her to see. If I had given myself more time I would have put a small album together. The framed photo I decided not to wrap. It is here on my bedside table, waiting for her to wake up and find it (she’s sleeping on the other side of me right now).
I also made a last minute decision to change the plan for the night as well – originally we were just going to have dinner, presents and dessert with just the girls and I with my parents at their place, but I got to thinking that Buz and Sian and the boys have been such an amazing part of our lives in the past few months, almost daily, and have been there for us through everything. I thought it would only be fitting to include them in the dessert portion of the evening. So, we will have dinner and presents at my parents, then head home to have cake with Buz, Sian and the boys. I insisted they not purchase a gift, but I suspect the request was not taken seriously. I know it’s entirely possible I’ll be a big sobbing mess – another reason why I didn’t want to invite anyone – but I know they can handle it.
I’m hopeful that since I have ‘pre-grieved’ this day so much in the past few weeks, that when the day starts (in the next few hours) it won’t be ‘as’ bad as I anticipate (I’ve heard this can happen). We’ll see. All I can say is the day won’t be right without you here. You are missed immensely regardless (to say the least), but days like this it’s just magnified – whether it’s the first birthday without you, or the thirtieth, your absence will always be felt.
Before saying good night, I wanted to share a poem that struck a chord with me – I read it the other day in the Alchemy of Loss book (which I finally just finished), and it is by Henry van Dyke:
Time is Too Slow for those who Wait, Too Swift for those who Fear, Too Long for those who Grieve, Too Short for those who Rejoice; But for those who Love, Time is Not.~Chelsea
P.S I Love You (and I will see you again – in time)
