My poetic life

I find it fascinating how sometimes things just fall into place. I hate to admit it, but my mother is right - about pretty much everything. :) She really is a brilliant woman. I struggled a lot growing up (and as an adult) and while I didn't always want to listen to what she had to say and the advice she offered, my mother was usually right. What was this brilliant wisdom, you ask? "If it's meant to be, it will be." Seems so simple, doesn't it? Well, eventually it is.

Over the past couple of years the good things in life have fallen into place. I graduated from university and found a job that I love. I work with the most incredible people a person could imagine.

I met the man of my dreams. Actually, we had known each other for about a year, but we started dating in January. He really is everything I could want in a partner and more. I'm a very lucky woman. It's interesting how it just ... happened. One day we would be high-fiving and making friendly conversation at the gym. The next, we're in love. Now, we're living together and planning our future. Life really can be poetic, can't it?

I'm not much of a poetry person. When we were required to study it in school I found it frustrating because, for the most part, I didn't understand it. But every once in a while something will really resonates with me. A couple of days ago, I was watching a show and they referred to this poem by William Wordsworth. It made me think of dad. I thought of the people I've lost. I'm sharing it with you here.

Splendour in the Grass

What though the radiance
which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

- William Wordsworth

Dreams

I sometimes wonder if dreams are the worst part of grieving. I often have dreams where my dad is still alive. At some point, while still in the dream, I realize that it's a dream and start to cry. I wake up in tears. I had a dream like this the other night. It's heartbreaking.

I was going through some files on my computer recently and moving them from my laptop to a new external hard drive. I found a video. I recorded it on the 6-month anniversary of dad's passing. I find music to be quite therapeutic. And this is one of the last songs him and I played together. We played it at his sisters funeral. I also played it at his funeral. I know it was a favourite of his. I could feel him with me that day.

I'm going to share it with you here. I couldn't figure out how to upload it to my blog, so I've added it to YouTube instead. You can find it here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-DFCCxzWmU

Looking back while moving forward

It's been a while since I've written here. No reason, really. Lack of time? Lack of motivation? Lack of things to talk about? Could be a bit of all of these. I think I write the most when I'm feeling awful. So perhaps it's a good sign that I haven't felt the need to blog? :)

Since November, my last post, there's been a few significant incidents that have occurred. I'll share a few of them here.

My dad really wanted me to be a Petty Officer First Class in the navy. In fact, he was kind of rooting for me to pass my brother in rank. ;) All in good fun, of course. But my dad was also a Petty Officer First Class in the navy. That was the rank at which he retired. I had started working on courses to get me to this point before he died. His death motivated me to work a little bit harder on achieving the goal. I spent three weeks in St-Jean, PQ on my Intermediate Leadership Course. Step 1 in achieving the goal. While this was going on, I was also working on my Qualification Level 4 Distance Learning Course. It was these 2 courses, plus one more, that would make me eligible for promotion to Petty Officer First Class (PO1).

December was a rough month. Particularly around Christmas. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a Grinch. I was. I was miserable. I was not looking forward to the holidays. I didn't want to be around anyone. This is going to sound terrible, and I don't want anyone to get the wrong impression. But for the first time, I understood why people attempt/commit suicide during the holidays. I was not/am not suicidal. But I could understand how people get so low, low enough to feel like there's no other way out.

On December 18th, one of my long time patients succumbed to Cystic Fibrosis. He was 16. It doesn't matter how long and how well you prepare yourself for the inevitable. It's still hard when it happens.

On December 25th, Christmas Day, another patient of mine ... one I had grown very close to ... succumbed to Juvenile Huntington's Disease. She was 17. We had known she was palliative. But none of us thought she would go quite so quickly.

So here it is ... the holidays. Already a tough time of the year for me and my family. Dad was such a fan of Christmas. He loved it! Loved to buy gifts and share time with his family. And he wouldn't be with us. That will never get easier. And December 27th marks the anniversary of Reece's passing. So really ... it was almost too much to bear.

But the New Year would offer some reprieve from my grief ...

A trip to Arizona in January to visit my mum and my aunts was wonderful. Sunshine is good for the soul. So is my mum. :) Here's a picture of my feet by the pool. Heavenly.



I entered into a relationship. And he's fabulous! His company is also good for the soul. :)

I'm in Quebec City at the moment. This is the last course I need to earn my promotion. Achieving my goals is becoming more of a reality. :) Shortly after I arrived here I received a random email from a man who had done Basic Recruit training with my father in 1968. He hadn't seen him since 1975 but had been thinking of him and was trying to find him on Facebook. It was there that he stumbled upon the memorial page for my father and contacted me. He shared a couple of pictures with me. And I will share one of them here with you. You can find my father in the bottom picture, back row, 5th from the left. Or you can look for his goofy grin and his ears. ;)



Quebec is pretty. I'm not much of a winter person, but I tried to make the best of it. I checked out Bonhomme Carnival. Here's a few pictures that I took.





I'm hoping to go to Montreal next weekend to check out the city and visit my cousins, Ryan and Brendan. The weekend after that I plan on going to Ottawa to visit my good friend, Caroline and Konrad. Then, the weekend after that we all head to Halifax to finish the final two weeks of the course. I'm very much looking forward to this. It'll be great to see some old friends, specifically Brian and Shauna. :) And perhaps some family.

So ... 2011 is off to a pretty good start. Lots of great days so far. And so many wonderful things to look forward to.

God?

I often find myself talking to my dad. About the big things. About the little things. Random, general chit-chat I may have talked to him about while he was still alive. I ask him for guidance, strength, answers.

I ran the Victoria Half Marathon on October 10. For a large majority of this 21.1km run, I thought of my dad. I pictured him in heaven running with me. I imagined him healthy, smiling and carefree, encouraging me to run faster and farther. I believe this to be true. I believe that he is healthy, smiling and carefree. I believe he was running next to me the day of the marathon, that he crossed that finish line with me. That he shed a tear just as I did when I looked at the time and saw that it was a personal best.

One day, about 6 or 7 months ago, I was struggling with a boy. I was so smitten with this particular guy and he was just ... so troubled. In all fairness, he was dealing with some awful things and just trying to find his footing in life. But I felt so confused. I didn't know what to do. I asked dad. And then all of a sudden ... it was just so clear. I knew the right answer.

The day of dad's funeral, I was sitting in the front pew of the church and I felt this overwhelming, all encompassing warmth. Not heat, exactly. Just, like I was being held from the outside in.

Every time I hear a song, or see something, or read something; every time dad comes to my mind (regularly throughout each and every day) I feel him with me. Perhaps him coming to my mind is his way of letting me know that he's still with me, that he misses me, loves me.

Oh! The title of this post is "God?" ... perhaps I should explain why.

Faith has always been a very personal thing for me. Very intimate and something I don't always speak openly about. I find it easier to talk about relationships and other personal, intimate details about my life than to talk about my relationship with God.

I have struggled for a number of years with my faith. After Reece died I was so angry! But who could I be angry with? Her death wasn't anyone's fault. So I was mad at God. I didn't understand why God would do something like this. So then I questioned my faith. I know this was difficult for dad (and for mum) as they wanted me to able to turn to a strong faith during such a struggle. But I couldn't do it. I asked questions like, "Can there be a heaven if there is no God?"

Who ever would have thought that my father dying would be the trigger necessary to help me start rebuilding my faith? Well ... God, I suppose. And maybe my dad.

The Dance

Yesterday I attended my friend, Laura's, wedding. She married her long-time love, Clayton. It was really beautiful. Spectacular ceremony. Charming reception. Lovely speeches. It was so obvious how much love was there between both families. I felt honoured to share in such a special occasion.

Laura & Clayton danced their first dance to Tim McGraw's "My Best Friend". About half way through the song, the father of the bride and mother of the groom stepped in to finish the dance. It was lovely. And I had to excuse myself.

I am so thrilled for Clayton and Laura. Laura has been a wonderful friend to me. She was a huge support through nursing school and continues to stand by my side through good times and bad. She's an inspirational, beautiful person who deserves nothing but happiness.

But watching Laura dance with her father was heart breaking. I'll never have this dance. I'll never have my father daughter dance at my wedding. I'll never hear my father welcome my husband to our family. He'll never sing at my wedding. I miss him.

One year later ...

So ... here we are ... one year later.

Strangely, I thought I would have a lot to say about this. But I feel at a loss for words. I've actually been thinking a lot about how to blog about this over the past few weeks. What would I say? How would I express myself?

Has anything changed? Well, we've been through all the firsts. His first birthday. Our first Christmas without him. Our first St. Patricks day without him. My first Father's Day without a father. Mum and Dad's anniversary. The one year anniversary of his passing. The one year anniversary of his funeral.

On August 25th I went for pizza with my good friend Leesa. As we were chatting, she asked me how I was doing with everything. I was telling her how I was ok, that things were going well. And then I started to explain how only now am I started to remember some things that happened last year. Mostly in relation to my aunts death (she had a heart attack 6 days after my dad died, while she was with us for his funeral). I had forgotten a lot of things about it. But as I was thinking about her on the anniversary of her death (August 24th), I started to recall some things - conversations I had, people I had to call, the whole experience itself from start to finish. I recelled things I had previously forgotten as I told Leesa this story. It caused the hair on the back of my neck and my arms to stand up. I felt chilled. Then we spoke more about my dad. I told Leesa that I thought I was ok, that I didn't think I would have anymore random breakdowns. You know, the kind where you hear a song on the radio that causes you to burst in to tears. Or how a certain smell, or memory that just bring back all the pain from those first days. I thought this wouldn't happen anymore. That now that the first year was over, I wouldn't go through this anymore.

I was wrong.

The next day, I was at Chapters. As I stood in line to pay for my purchases, I noticed a middle aged man in front of me holding two DVD's. "The Vicar of Dibley". Dad loved this show. So did Mum. I tried to shake off the feeling this gave me. I went upstairs to the bookstore coffee shop to read and enjoy a cup of java. Then the grief grabbed me. It was so overwhelming I had to leave. I raced to my car as quickly as I could and then the pain took over. I was in tears. Sobbing in my car in the parkade of a shopping mall.

So maybe I'm not ok. But this I know for sure. I will be.

What he wants ...

I feel stuck ... again ... as though I have been living this previous year on one single day. August 18, 2009. Groundhog Day. Sure, I've had some pretty incredible experiences since my dad died. I because Auntie Erin to Atticus. I went to the Philippines. I've met some great new friends. I finished my first year as a nurse and got a Permanent Full-Time job. In many peoples' lives they would find this to be enough. And while I have enjoyed and appreciated these things, I often find myself stuck in a moment that occurred nearly one year ago. When I hear those words in my head again ... when I hear my mother say "Dad died this morning" ... it takes me back to the pain I felt at that instant. I miss him desperately.

I know it sounds weird, but sometimes I can actually kind of hear him talking to me. Maybe because I think about him so often. Maybe it's when I listen to his music. Whatever the reason, I feel it. On the weekend, I was on Salt Spring Island and I was thinking about him, journalling, and I feel like he told me he was sorry. That's the first time I ever felt that - that he would be sorry. Sorry for leaving us. Sorry that he never met Atticus (although I like to believe dad met Atticus before the rest of us did - that he came to us from heaven ... our angel on earth). I think he's sorry he'll never get to walk me down the aise, or Christen my children, or to be a grandfather. He wants me to know it's better for him this way. He's not suffering. There's no grief in heaven. Just music and laughter and cheese-whiz and Barney. He wants me to be happy. He knows I miss him. He knows it hurts, that I suffer every day without him. But he's here. He wants me to know that he checks on us every day. And he's so proud of us and he loves us more than he could ever describe.

I love you too, Dad. So very very much.

Dad, maybe the next time you stop by to talk to me you could help me figure out what to do next? Where to go? How to get through this? How to move forward? Because feeling as though this last year was a blur is a bit disconcerting. ONE YEAR! One year and I feel like I'm emotionally stunted, as though I haven't grown at all as a person. Sure I can say and do the right things to make others believe I'm coping just fine. And maybe I am. Maybe it's normal to feel this way?

While I'm chatting with you ... if you don't mind ... could you give Reecey a big hug and kiss and bonks for me? Read her the "Belly Button Book"? Sing her the Barney song? I can just imagine the ruckus you're all causing up there!!! After kids-hour, I know you'll be having a big party with Laura and Mavis, your brothers, your parents, Diane, Basil, Donnie, Herman. Probably having a few pints and singing all sorts of Stan Rogers tunes. Sounds like a blast, Dad! Enjoy. You've earned it. :)

It doesn't. It won't.

In my job, I deal with not only patients but families. Working in pediatrics, I care for children. But I also care for their parents, siblings, grandparents, foster parents, guardians, etc. "Family Centered Care" it's called. And I love it. I love my job. I get to cuddle babies. I get to play with toddlers and kids of all ages. I get to watch them get better and send them home. It's an extremely rewarding career and I wouldn't change it for anything.

It's not unusual to hear things at work such as "Erin, your mum in 420 has just gone to Tim's for a coffee." Or, "Erin, your parents in 469 would like to chat with you when you have a chance." Today I heard the following:

"Erin, your dad's here."

So, what Tricia had meant was "Erin, your dad in 420 is here to take his son home."

But for one millisecond, maybe longer, I thought "Really?! What a great surprise!" And then the reality struck. And it was like day one all over again.

I think I thought that after nearly one year that ... I dunno ... that the pain would subside. But it doesn't. It won't.

Life is Awesome

... or so I want it to be.

I was listening to the radio on the way home from a night shift recently. The radio personalities were discussing a book that had just come out. It's called "The Book of Awesome". It is based on a blog by Neil Pasricha in which he created a list of 1000 awesome things of daily life. Then he blogs on them. For example:

Sneezing 3 or more times in a row.
Planning for snoozes.
Finding money you didn't know you'd lost.
The smell of freshly cut grass.
A long hug when you really need it.

This one really resonated with me:

#565: Moving forward and moving on.

http://1000awesomethings.com/2010/02/19/565-moving-forward/

Since my father passed away 10 months ago, I find myself in periods of darkness, where I'm not certain I'm going to recover from such an awful blow. And then moments come along where I realize there are so many simple, but amazing things in life. Things to appreciate, people to appreciate. A life worth living. "The Book of Awesome" helped open my eyes once again to the little things in life.

I experienced a few awesome things recently. I shall share them with you here.

Getting a high five from a random while out on a run.

I was out for one of my regular runs on a regular route. As I was jogging along, a man saw me coming and reached his hand out for a high-five. That was AWESOME!

Getting hugs from kids at work.

I'm a pediatric nurse. Last night I had the pleasure of sending a nice family home after a couple of days with us in the hospital. As they were leaving I bent down to say goodbye to the 5-year-old little boy for which I had been caring. He walked over and gave me a big hug. I nearly cried. It was AWESOME!

Catching up with old friends.

I had lunch with Leah yesterday. Leah will forever hold a special place in my heart. She was my instructor when I was a student in pediatrics. She has been a remarkable mentor to me. An incredibly supportive friend. After not seeing her for a number of months, we finally caught up yesterday. It was AWESOME!

Tomorrow I have a date with Krista. My life-partner. :) There truly are no words to describe the love and admiration I feel for Krista. Inspiration. She really is. Even though we live together, I don't see her often. We have a date tomorrow. It's gonna be AWESOME!

Thoughtful friends.

Last Sunday was Father's Day. My first without my daddy. It was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. I was at work, which helped as it kept my mind off dad. After a long day at work I came home to my roommates, Nicole and Louise, holding a large potted sunflower. I said "What's this for?" Their response: "Purple tulips are out of season." I nearly burst into tears. Such a special thing ... having friends remember the little things, doing little things to warm your heart. It's pretty AWESOME!

Making my mum laugh.

I smiled as I wrote that. I LOVE to make my mother laugh. Especially when she really loses it. I adore her. It's nice to know that sometimes I can make her heart feel a little less heavy. It's AWESOME!

Television that makes me giggle.

I'm currently obsessed with "The Big Bang Theory". Too funny. Check it out. It's AWESOME!

The first sip of a fresh cup of coffee.

Mmmmmmmm ... so AWESOME!

Ok. So there you have it. Some awesome things in life. Things to appreciate on a regular basis. As I write this blog, I am watching/listening to a video our family friend Mark made for us after dad passed away. It's their band "The Steamin' Armpitz". I am so grateful for this video. My father lived for his music. This video keeps him alive. It's pretty awesome. :)

"After a While"

This poem was given to me a number of years ago.

"After a While"

After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning, and company doesn't mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts, and presents aren't promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats with your head held high and your eyes open, with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build your roads on today, because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans, and futures have a way of falling down in midflight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much so you plant your own garden, and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure that you really are strong and you really do have worth and you learn and learn with every goodbye you learn.

Atticus Henry

Today, my father is a grandfather.

Atticus Henry was born at 7:47 this morning. 8 lbs, 2 oz. Blond hair, blue eyes - just like his daddy. Janelle was AMAZING and delivered him completely naturally. Robin left me a message earlier this afternoon and he sounded ... in love.

I believe that Atticus came to us from heaven, that dad met him before any of us did. I know if he were alive today, dad would be so proud, so thrilled to have a grandson. I know that he's up in heaven smiling down on us, having handed us this precious angel, granting us this beautiful gift.

Thank you, Dad. Thanks to R & J for making me a proud Auntie! I haven't even met Atticus yet, and I already adore him.

From my friend, Heidi ...

This is what you shall do: love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning god, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body ....

-Walt Whitman

Moving Forward?

I feel stuck.

No. Scratch that.

I feel worse than stuck. To be stuck would mean I'm in one place, but no. I'm all over the place.

I'm a disaster. Yes. That's more accurate.

It's like everything from the past 7 months ... or my entire life ... is back. As though every ounce of pain I ever suffered is revisiting me. And pain brought friends. Jerk.

Yesterday I found myself lying in my bed in the dark, crying uncontrollably; my heart feeling as though it was breaking ... again. And this time I feel I have no one to blame but myself. I didn't follow my own rules. I didn't protect my heart. And I got hurt.

But, I learned something. I learned I'm nowhere near ready to date. My heart cannot suffer anymore heartache. Not this year. I took a chance with a man I actually quite like and the rejection was almost too much to bear. This is something in the past I would have recovered from rather quickly. But this time was different. This time it felt like ... loss. I can't deal with more loss.

And it's not just men. Not just dating.

Recently I was running a 5km run as part of the Island Race Series here in Victoria. At approximately the 1km mark I noticed my roommate, Krista, flagging me down. Looking just past her I noticed a gaggle of people hovering over a body, a man. I ran to where they were and explained that I was a nurse. Without going into too much detail, this man didn't survive. He went into cardiac arrest on the scene and while we (supporters on scene and paramedics) did the best we could to save him, it just wasn't meant to be. This experience brought up a lot of emotion for me.

It brought me back to the morning I lost my father. The absolutely heart-wrenching pain ... it was there again. I heard my mother say "Dad died this morning." I saw his peaceful face when we went to view him at the funeral home. I heard his voice saying "Hi Munchkin!" It brought back that awful realization that I'll never hear him say that again. This is a picture of my dad from my cousin, Shannon's wedding. It was taken July 24 of 2009. He was so happy here!


It brought back the morning we lost my aunt. We were all awake. It was 2 days after dad's funeral and myself, my mother, my three aunts (Chris, Mavis and Mary) and cousin, Melissa, were staying with my mum. It was quite early in the morning, maybe around 7:30 or so. I was in dad's office checking my email and I knew everyone else was up in the living room. I had received an email from someone I didn't know and called my mum to ask if she knew who it was. When she came into the office she looked at me and said "Aunt Mavis has angina and she's having some chest pain. We've called an ambulance." I immediately went into "nurse" mode. "Do you have any nitro? Have you taken any aspirin?" I sat with my aunt and asked her about her pain, how long it had been going on, where it was, etc. Then I decided I would go with her to the hospital. While I was at the hospital with her I watched her die. I watched her go into cardiac arrest. The doctors brought her back. I had a chance to tell her I love her. The paramedics whisked her off to Saskatoon where she later died of a heart attack.

My Aunt Chris believes that the first time Mavis died, my dad and Aunt Laura showed her just how beautiful heaven was. So she decided to stay.

Here are a few pictures from dad's funeral. One of Mavis with her sisters. One of all of us ladies.



So what now?

I'm trying to move forward, trying to find the good, trying to see all the positive things life has to offer. So ... because I like lists, I'm making a "List of the Good" or a "Things to Look Forward to" list.

1. Trip to Saskatoon from April 1 - 9: See my mother, brother, sister-in-law, nephew???, goddaughters, friends. Help my mum move into her new condo. Creating some good memories of Saskatoon, when most recent memories harbour pain.

2. My nephew!!!! Can't wait to meet you little man.

3. Trip to the Philippines April 16 - May 1: I'll be traveling with my Dragonboat Team to Boracay for a festival. The festival takes place over 4 days or so and the remainder of the time I'll be traveling the country, surfing, climbing volcanoes, swimming with whale sharks.

4. Summer in Victoria: This is such a beautiful city! I hope to take full advantage of my downtime and do some exploring of the city and the Island over the summer! Maybe surfing in Tofino. Running along the water.

5. Life: I still have one. I need to not lie in bed in the dark and feel sorry for myself, but to live my life every day as if it were my last.

Yes. That's what my dad would want. That's what all of my angels would want.

Does he know?

I've been quite contemplative these days. Where is my life headed? What is my destiny? Big questions. Questions I didn't really have to previously consider. I always knew I'd be a nurse. Here I am. A nurse. But now what?

I find myself looking for signs, clues, as to what my next step should be. I wonder if Dad knows what I'll find in life, where my path will take me. I sometimes hope that he's sending me signals, guidance. Unfortunately, these "signals" could be right in front of me but I don't know how to read or understand them. And what if the signals are answers I don't want to hear? What if what I want isn't what's right for me? If he tells me that something's not right, will I listen?

Scott Peck once famously wrote, "Life is difficult".

What an understatement.

Purple Tulips

I always referred to Aiden and Reece (my goddaughters) as My Beautiful Tulips. Reece died on December 27, 2007. Her funeral was early January. At the funeral we all wore purple ribbons in memory of her. The morning of the interment I went to the local Safeway to get some flowers to put on her casket. At first I thought daisies, as they are her birth flower (April). I walked around for a while carrying Gerber Daisies in my hands. But they didn't feel right. Then I saw the flower fridge. Inside the fridge were purple tulips. They were perfect. I felt as though Reece had placed them there for me; as if she knew I would need them. Because really? Purple tulips in Saskatchewan in January? A rarity for sure.

On February 28, 2009, my Aunt Laura (one of my dad's 5 sisters) died of lung cancer. She was 61. She lived here in Victoria, so I was fortunate enough to spend a good deal of time with her in her final days. Such a lovely woman. I remember she died on a Saturday. The Wednesday prior to this I had stopped in to see her at Hospice and saw that she was starting to change. I knew it wouldn't be long. I sat at her bedside and she tried to talk to me but was so tired so I just held her hand. Then, I asked her a very selfish question. I said "Aunt Laura, can you do me a favour? When you get to heaven could you tell Reece that I love her?" I cried. She opened her eyes and said to me "Oh Erin. I'll take such good care of her! I can see her already, with her beautiful smile and big blue eyes." I cried more and she comforted me. This woman, in her final days, comforted me!!! She looked at me and said "You need to go get yourself some purple tulips." :)

I have purple tulips on my coffee table today.

Morningtown Ride

I have been missing my dad a lot these days. I mean, I miss him every day ... these days it just hurts more than usual. There was nothing to trigger it really ... Well, my car was making a weird noise the other day and in the past I would always go to my dad about these kinds of issues. Then I just really miss the sound of his voice. I miss calling and having him answer and say "Hi Munchkin!" I'm a 30-year-old woman and my father was still calling me Munchkin, or 'Munch' for short. I miss it. I miss his terrible jokes. I miss his laugh. I miss ... I just ... I miss him ...

It's almost as though it's getting harder the longer he's gone. He wasn't a part of my everyday life. We didn't speak every day. I only saw him a few times a year at best. But now I don't have a choice. And sometimes ... sometimes a girl just needs her dad.

Here is a picture of him participating in the Battle of Atlantic Sunday Parade here in Victoria in May 2008. He was so proud and so happy to be there!


I've been listening to his CD a bit more the past few days - trying to get my fix, I guess. Dad was always such an amazing musician. If I had to choose one song that reminded me of dad ... well, it's just not possible. He knew too many! But there is one song in particular, I guess, that will never make me think of anyone but him. It's called "Morningtown Ride". It's a lullaby. He used to sing it to me when I was a kid. I'd like to share the lyrics here.

Train whistle blowin' makes a sleepy noise
Underneath their blankets go all the girls and boys
Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away

Driver at the engine, fireman rings the bell
Sandman swings the lantern to show that all is well
Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away

Maybe it is raining where our train will ride
All the little travellers are warm and snug inside
Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away

Somewhere there is sunshine, somewhere there is day
Somewhere there is Morningtown, many miles away
Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away

Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away.

I miss you, dad. So much it hurts. I need you right now.

So if you're there ...

Happy New Year?

I certainly hope so ...

Today I was at work. On my coffee break I did what most nurses do: got coffee. There's a Tim Horton's on the main floor of the hospital. As I was making my way down the hallway, large black coffee in hand, towards the elevators that would take me to the fourth floor (I really should start taking the stairs), I passed the gift shop. And there was this decorative ornament, nothing really notable about it. But there was a saying on it. "Leave room in your heart for angels to dance". In a matter of steps, as I registered this ornament, my heart began to ache. It made me think of my dad ... my angel. It made me think of that morning all over again - the morning he died. I had to catch my breath. My heart ached ...

The holidays were tough. This would be a holiday of many firsts for many of my family members. My mum, brother and I were without my dad. His sisters without their brother. But also without their two sisters who we also lost in 2009. Those sisters left children behind to mourn them, to struggle through the holidays, to be left thinking and hoping that 2010 would be a better year, a year of hope, of happiness. I miss him ...



The holidays also marked a very important and devastating anniversary. On December 27, 2007, my dear, dear friends, Angela and Grant, lost their daughter very suddenly. Reece. She was 20 months old. The holidays are a time that should be marked with cheer and family and celebration. For Ange and Grant (and for all of us who knew and love Reece), the holidays bring anguish, pain, heartache. I miss her ...



I was reading a book over the holidays. "Salem Falls" by Jodi Picoult. There was a quote in the book that really resonated with me:

"... after a certain point, a heart with so many stress fractures would never be anything but broken."

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.