Making a List

The night before my dad died we talked on the phone. He had called just to chat. Dad was never much of a phone chatter, so it was always a surprise when he called. Ironically I always thought when he called that something bad happened ... if I only knew ...

Anyway, we had talked about how he wanted to retire when he turned 60. We talked about the recent wedding of my cousin Shannon in Northern BC. Dad officiated the wedding. He had such an amazing trip! Dad had done a few of my cousins weddings but due to the vast distance between all of us, he was unable to attend all of them. (I should interject here that I have quite a large family. On dad's side alone, he has 5 sisters. This leaves me with 26 first cousins!) Anyhow, during our conversation he was saying how he really enjoyed Shannon's wedding and that although he would love to attend all of my cousins weddings, he just didn't think he'd be able to. He said he'd have to be choosy about which weddings he officiated. This is how our conversation went next:

Dad: "Well, I won't be able to do your wedding Erin."

Erin: "Should someone ever decide they're crazy enough to marry me, Dad?"
(HAHAHA ... we chuckled ... ).
Erin: "Of course you can't do my wedding, Dad. You have to walk me down the aisle."

Insert sob here.

I'll never have that opportunity. My dad will never walk me down the aisle and as much as I hate to admit it - the "girlyness/cheesiness factor" involved - it was a memory I so looked forward to creating.

I have had moments over the last nearly four months where I have really struggled with whether or not marriage is really for me. I was always that person that wanted to get married and have a family. Now ... I'm not so sure. I still tell myself and others that it's in the cards for me, but I sometimes wonder if it really is. And I know this might seem like such a little thing in the grand scheme of things but ... I just can't imagine getting married without my father walking me down the aisle. I know what you're thinking ... "He'll be with you in spirit, Erin." Yeah. I know that. And I know the rest of my family will be there (should this day ever come). But it's not the same. The memory I spent the last 30 years developing in my mind will never come to fruition.

God, I miss him.

Ok. So, the title to this blog is "Making a List". Well, here's where I get to that point. My dad always wanted me to be happy. He, of course, encouraged me to settle down with a nice doctor and make lots of money so I could grant my father a life he could become accustomed to. (Always the joker, he was.) In reality, he really just wanted me to find a man who would treat me right. Someone to laugh with me, cry with me, sing with me, parent with me. Someone who would appreciate dad's lame jokes. :) These days I feel like I've really lost track of what it is I'm looking for in a partner. So, it being the Christmas season and all, I'm making a list. It's not so much for Santa to "take a look and check twice". But more for me. A reference per se, so that I don't lose sight of what's important to me.

I miss you, Dad. Please feel free to send your encouragement and wisdom from heaven.

Three Months and the Precious Life

Today is November 18th. It has been three months since my dad passed away. I was talking with my mum last night and we were discussing how fast the time has gone by. It's interesting how when you want so badly for time to stand still - so you can collect yourself, get back on track - that life carries on.

The other day at work, a little girl died. She was three years old. I didn't work with her family, although they had been around for almost a month. When something like this happens, it brings us all down. One of the terrible hazards of my job. Unfortunately, these things do happen. It brought a lot of feelings back for me. The last time there was a "code" (code blue - cardiac/respiratory arrest) on the floor, I responded and was a communicator to the family. Basically, I would go into the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit and return to the family with any information passed on by the nurses and doctors working on their child. That night I spoke to my dad about the incident. He was always a great person to talk to about that kind of thing. I think we had that in common - we both worked in professions where there was often a great deal of sadness encountered. Anyway, we had a good talk about what I had experienced and how I felt. That night was the last night I would speak to my father. It was the evening of August 17th. He died early the next morning. All of those emotions, those terrible feelings and the intense pain I felt the day he died ... all of that came rushing back to me. It's taken me a few days to get back on track, but I think I'm on the mend - as much as I can be. So how did I do it? How is it that I'm feeling better? Allow me to share a few stories of my last couple of weeks.

On November 8, my father would have been 59 years old. It was a Sunday. That weekend I had been up in Nanaimo for a course. The other nurse I was with, Danielle, was so great to me! I had told her it was my dad's birthday and she listened as I went on and on telling stories all the way home from Nanaimo on Sunday. Two hours of chatter. Such a kind person. Thanks Danielle!

That night, myself and several of my dear friends went to an Irish Pub here in Victoria for "Irish Night" so we could toast my dad on his birthday. Only appropriate! He would have appreciated it I think. Not only did my friend come along ... so did Bobble-Head Jesus. What is a Bobble-Head Jesus you ask ... well it's just that. A plastic toy (?) that looks like Jesus and has a bobble-head. I had bought it for dad in the summer but didn't get a chance to give it to him. So I brought him along. Quite humorous. My very good friends, Krista, Krista-Lea, Nicole, Louise, Brenda, Bonnie, and Caroline, joined me in a toast (or ten) for my dad. Amazing. I'm so grateful to have such incredible friends. Thank you girls. I do love you.




Life is precious. It can be taken from you in an instant. No explanation. No understanding. Just ... gone. I'm working hard every day to appreciate what I have, to be grateful for the life that I live.

Life is precious.

Happiness?

I've been thinking. I've been thinking a lot these days. I'd like to say I've always been a thinker, but I don't know that it's very accurate. I've always been more of an emotional person. I react on emotion and don't often think things through very clearly. But as I've gotten older I've started to become a wee bit more logical in my process. Anyway, I've been thinking about happiness.



My lovely friend, Caroline, recently gave me a book. "Zen and the Art of Happiness". I haven't read much of it yet, just the first few pages. But it got me to thinking about happiness. How does one be "happy"? What is "happy" exactly? Television, movies, books ... the plots always seem to be about reaching a state of happiness. But how? How does one "get there"? As I was leaving for work the other day I thought to myself that happiness is not a journey. Happiness is a way of being. It is a choice.

I suppose I'm not the first person to have this epiphany. In fact, I'm sure I've dismissed others' similar exclamations. Having suffered so many heartaches in the last couple of years I feel like I could spend most of my days curled up in bed feeling sorry for myself. I so desperately want to press the pause button, stop things from moving on around me until I'm ready to do the same. It's often hard to believe that I can be happy again. Unfortunately, life goes on. It has to.

In February of 2009, my Aunt Laura (another of my dad's 5 sisters) died of lung cancer. Six days after my father passed away, his youngest sister, Mavis, died of a heart attack. She was with us in Kindersley for the funeral. When she received news of Mavis' sudden passing, my Aunt Kathy, the eldest of the family, sat down and began madly writing on a piece of paper. Tara, one of her daughters, asked what she was doing. Her response: "Counting my blessings". This really stuck with me. In difficult times such as this, I have found it helpful to count my blessings. I'll be honest, there's been days when I thought it would be easier if I were gone, if I could join my dad in heaven. I'm not suicidal. I'm just saying it would be easier. But then I think about all that I'd be leaving behind. So here I would like to share some of my "blessings"; things that help me "live happy".

My incredible family. A girl couldn't ask for a more wonderful, supportive, kind, compassionate, loving mother. I truly am blessed that she chose me as her daughter. My brother, Robin ... I can only hope to meet and marry a man as lovely as him. My sister-in-law, Janelle. My bonus-sister. She challenges Robin and brings out the best in him. Thank you. Thank you for being so supportive of our family. My extended family ... I would be here for years if I were to count each and every one of you. Just know that I appreciate you all.



My friends. I wouldn't be me without you. And, if I do say so myself, I'm not too bad. ;) Krista, Krista-Lea, Louise, Nicole, Marnie, Bonnie, Deb, Laura, Caroline, Angela, Brenda, Sam, Tricia, Carli, Shauna, Shauna, Aneeta, Kelly, Lara, Carrie ... There's more I know. More people I can turn to when I need them. Wow. When I write them all out that way it almost seems selfish to have all of these wonderful people in my life!



My god-children and "nieces and nephews". Aiden, Reece, Gabby, Daxen, Max, Gabe.



My "pending niece or nephew". LOL. I cannot wait to meet you little one!!!

My job. Though I joke about not wanting to go to work, I can't imagine working anywhere else. I truly love it there and aim to progressively get better and more knowledgeable every day. To give back in some way, to make a difference even if it's just a tiny smile or giggle, or taking away a bit of a child's pain, I feel lucky to be able to do it.

My home. This is a photo of me sitting on my couch, with my feet on the coffee table looking out the window. That's the Pacific Ocean out there. We have a beautiful home, in a beautiful city. We are very fortunate.



My health.
My education.
My opportunities. I can do pretty much anything I want. I'm lucky that way.
The things I've done. I've travelled, learned, lived.

My dad. You came from such a difficult place, a troubled upbringing. And you protected us from that. You broke the cycle. I never once questioned your love for me. I know that as I write this, tears staining my cheeks, you are with me, keeping me warm, helping my heart heal, guiding me. Thank you.

It's actually been 63 days

My counsellor suggested I journal. I've seen her once since my dad died. I keep meaning to reschedule with her, but ... But what? Have I been too busy? Too preoccupied? Too ... forgetful, perhaps. Anyhow, rather than journal I thought I'd hop on the blog-band-wagon. I have been fortunate enough to benefit from the blogs of others - friends and family - who write so eloquently of their experiences; their thoughts; their feelings. I guess I thought, perhaps a little narcissitically, that someone may be able to benefit from what it is I have to say.

I'm probably going to mess up this story, but you'll get the idea. It's how I thought of the idea for the title of this blog.

I had lunch with Ellen about a month or so back. She's one of the most lovely, kind, compassionate women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. When dad died, I felt a strong need to tell her. Since I met her back in March she's been so incredibly supportive of me and thought I could lean on her for a bit of strength and wisdom. Anyhow, we met for lunch a while back and she told me this story of how there was a lady she worked with, or knew, or learned from ... I can't remember the details exactly. This lady would always check-in with families on the 52nd day after the death of a loved one. In her experience this was a terrible time for most families. While they seemed convinced in the first 51 days of their abilities to move on and "understand" it all, by the 52nd day things would change for them. They would hit a new level of anger, sadness, frustration.

I'm on day 63 ... my dad died 63 days ago. Suddenly. A heart attack. For the most part I remain in a state of numbness. I don't feel much of anything. On occassion, I come out of that state and I feel the pain all over again. It's like it's the first day ... the first moment I heard my mother tell me she had some bad news. "Dad died this morning." I still feel pretty lost. I work hard at my job, which is a great distraction. But there's days I wonder when it's all going to come crumbling down around me. When is the reality of this tragedy really going to hit me? Because most of the time it still doesn't feel quite real.

So where do I go from here? I'm hoping to find some comfort in this blog. I hear it can be quite cathartic.