3 years later...

Ah man I'm bad at this. It's been an eventful summer that's for sure. The garden exploded, and we've literally been feeding the town with it. We use our produce in barter and trade, and the freezer chest is full. Loads of it are just given away. It's a beautiful garden, my best one yet. It's a fair bit of work to maintain, but it's more than worth it.

It's been a long, hot season. It's rained sparsely twice in the past 3 months, and this is the worst season for wildfires yet. We had a few days of relief from the smoke, but as I drove home today I could see a thick haze on the horizon. We're enveloped once again.

We find relief from the heat out on the water. My partner reclaimed a boat he had stashed in a barn. It took us a bit to get it up and running again, but it's been well used since. We are surrounded by lakes and waterways and blessed with beautiful places to fish. Our season started out well, we caught 7 rainbow trout in a few hours on our first lake run. Only half the luck since, and now we're waiting for the salmon. And the rain.

Work has been ...interesting. I have learned a lot in the 8 months I've been working with metal. I am learning from the best. Our team is highly sought after in the valley. Contract work can be unpredictable at times though when it comes to lining up jobs (and getting paid for them). We've had a couple nerve racking lulls, but then a week later we're turning down work because we're booked solid. It's kind of funny that we live in a tiny little farm house, and work in 4-8,000 square foot homes worth millions. And some with unbelievable views. BC stands for bring cash, and man do they ever.

I wish they'd share the wealth... though our schedule is full, our budget is still hella tight. We just barely made rent on time for the first of the month, and with so many bills coming up [and a couple weeks before we can expect any more pay] everything is on the line. My wheels, my phone, and ultimately our home. If only we could pay rent with vegetables...


It makes me think about the perception of wealth. If produce was currency, I'd be rich. Therefore, I suppose I am. It's reassuring to know that if the economy went for a dump, at least we can produce our own food, and lots of it. We need to get a bigger fire safe for our seed collection.

Besides going to work and our occasional trips to town, we live a very simple, localized lifestyle. It's very old timey and laid-back. As I was saying about the barter and trade, it's a part of life out here for 'people of the valley'. Most of our food came from somewhere in this community, trading zucchini and squash for farm fresh eggs, and our tomatoes and seeds for the sweetest corn on the cob I've ever tasted. It's such a contrast from city life, out here in the country.

Which by the way, was always a dream of mine. It's been 3 years now since I landed here. 3 years ago I stepped off that greyhound bus. I had no real plan.. If you would have asked me right then and there where I'd have seen myself three years later, I wouldn't know what to tell you. I could have ended up anywhere, or continuously traveled.. I could have gone back east, back to the land from which I came. but I'm still here.. I somehow passed the test of time that comes with east-coast peeps moving west. many go back in the first year and a half. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it more than once. 


 It wasn't the easiest choice to make, nor the easiest ride to take when i decided to stay. I've faced almost as much adversity the past three years as I had in the 29 years before that, but also experienced some of the most beautiful, priceless moments of my life. I would never take it back for anything. the places that I've been, the people that I've met.. it's just incredible. Even if I had to lose everything once or twice to get there. Even if I had to miss everyone back home so much to make these new connections, I would never wish it hadn't happened. 

If someone would have approached me that day I stepped off the bus and told me where I'd be in a few years and what I'd be doing, my response would probably be something along the lines of 'I wish...' and that's the craziest part of all. I wouldn't have believed it. Couldn't have even dreamt it... at the same time now that I'm here, I couldn't have imagined it any other way. Although I have these memories of my mother speculating how my life might end up if I moved out west, and it's almost creepy how spot on she was. I didn't really believe her either. But if I remember correctly, I'm pretty sure I did say 'I wish'. If I could only tell her, and hear her say 'I told you so...'. But I do. 

I do.

Mother's day.

The first one without her was the hardest. Being that it was the Friday of mother's day weekend that she'd lost her grip on this plane of existence, the emotions that ran through me at that time were almost unbearable. Mother's day, however, was never really an easy one.

My mom suffered from depression for many years. And of course, she missed her mom. My brother and I would always do our best to make her smile on her special day, but sometimes she just wasn't having it. It was one of the two times a year we could anticipate a phone call from the police or the hospital (or having to call one of the two).

This is the fourth one since she's been gone. It has gotten easier as I've become more comfortable with the idea that she's still around in some way, and no longer suffering. So it's okay to be grateful for her bringing me into this world, without feeling guilty that I'm in it without her.

We went down to the river where I set some of her ashes adrift. The weather was beautiful, and the trail was quiet. We hiked as far as we could without our waders and just enjoyed the views.

The drive back home was short and sweet, an eagle followed us back to the highway from the creek. As soon as we arrived home, we kicked off our shoes and stepped into the garden.

...

Here I am, in the mountains, with an epic food garden outside my tiny farm house. Sandy Shores Farm.. in dedication. I'm learning a trade, driving a van, and living the slow life out on the country. My brother has a decent job, a car of his own, and we're both blessed to have partners in crime to share our lives with. This is all she ever wanted for us, to have a good life and enjoy. I know she's smiling with us.


xo

4/20

I never thought today would be so hard. 14 years ago today was my first day in the field rocking my film SLR capturing the 420 scenes, celebrations and marches for freedom with the crew. Matt if you're reading this, thank you times a million for bringing me along. It's also my 14 year friendiversary with everyone's good homie Clay, and his amazing family. Today is the first year since that I haven't talked to him on this day. I miss him. We all do.

Three years ago was the first Toronto march since that I did not attend. It also happened to be Easter Sunday that day, and my mama didn't want to be alone. She invited me over for Chinese food Easter/birthday dinner. It was the first time in years I'd seen her smile (with teeth!), and the last time I ever hugged her goodbye. If only I had known it'd be the last time I'd see her face to face.

...

Yet as I stand here in this garden, they are with me. My mother lives on in the sunlight that shines bright through the rain. Our brother is heard in the excitement in our voices as we rejoice the emergence of new life. I believe it to be true that we live on in the hearts and minds of those who love us.

Today I am thankful for these memories. Today I am grateful to have my bare feet in the soil, watching my garden grow. For my life and everyone who has been a part of it, I am blessed. 

sorry. thanks, too..

i don't even know where to start.

to all you amazing people who have been putting up with my ass while i fell to bits the last couple years, giving zero shits.. i'm sorry. and thanks. you know what for, you know who you are. i fucked up huge, i let myself slip.. emotionally, mentally, physically, financially.. i've been in pretty rough shape. well up to me neck in what-the-fucks. i'm sorry for losing my head. i'm still working on getting it back. sorry to the friends and fams i kinda stopped talking to, i felt i had nothing good to say. sorry for pissing and moaning about the inevitable given my choices. thanks for listening. sorry i've been a real fucking tool the past little while. thanks for loving me anyways.

now about that getting back to the better me. or moving forward rather..
i have one hell of a long path to wander.
but i'm on my way.

i know letting go is a big part of this. letting go of people on several levels, places, things... all the things. oh and the feels too. it ain't easy. especially when those people hold big chunks of your heart. especially when those places are/were the worldly homes of those people. especially when those things belong(ed) to them. and fuck the feels. there's that one thing i have no idea how i should feel about.. the truck. miss Sally.

when i used that there trust for the first time in a while, mixed with a little credit (no, a lot).. things got messy. go team. on one hand i know it was stupid to register my vehicle in someone else's name. i had given it away right then and there. on the other hand even if i didn't, i wouldn't be able to take it back just the same. i do have a heart, obviously. this way i have no choice. i let it go. what else can i do? same as the friendship with the person driving her. and the credit that bought her.. an all around unfortunate set of losses. i fucked up. or did i? guess i'll never know.

i had a hard time with my mother's ashes. i know it's just ash but.. i liked having that physical representation of carrying her. as i did all my life. i wanted to take her to the sea shore below the mountains and set her to the wind this past mother's day. two years that weekend. i lost my shit when i couldn't get at her ashes. i lost my shit even harder when i got my things back and found they were gone. i was off in the head for a bit over that one.

and the slanty shanty too. i miss that house. it was the first place i called 'home' here on this transplanting to the west coast. i squatted there a few times before i finally got a room of my own. unfortunately the friend who lived in there previously had passed on shortly after giving me the place. and that was a hard pill to swallow. so was being forced to leave, when it finally became [beyond] uninhabitable. a couple seasons of camping out and the odd couch it took before i could accept the possibility of a place to call mine. here i am, still sort of adjusting.

speaking of which, thanks to the lovely lady who took me in. an angel, in the flesh. for real. she truly lives up to her name. by supposed random coincidence, she saved the day. and i am so incredibly grateful. i have a home base. still do a lot of camping, by choice instead of necessity. kinda nicer that way.

anyhoo.. i owe a pretty big apology to myself too. dah.. i worked sooo freakin hard to get my health back before i moved out west. it's been on a steady down hill slide since shortly after i got here. i became complacent, i got lazy. i stopped giving a shit, really. i'm pretty sure i found about thirty of the eighty pounds i lost, my kidneys ache constantly and my digestive system refuses to move in the right direction at times. it's time to pay better attention to what i'm putting in me, and take better care of myself. again.

somewhere along the line i stopped believing i was worth it. more like i'm just passing time instead of serving a purpose so i just kinda said fuck it. i felt not so worthy of good things, good feelings... not like me i know. i'm sorry to me for feeling that way. time to pull up me socks and get on with it. i still have a panic attack every now and then, slightly less symptomatic of the PTSD the past month or so, most likely due to far less environmental triggers. having a home base helps immensely, even if it's just a shared flat. i feel like i can finally start to get back on my feet. and i'm taking full advantage of what i've got. i will find my health again. i will get my sexy back. i will not only survive this shit, i will thrive. i will not give up.

i'm thankful for this second [or fifth or sixth] chance at making it out here. in a lot of ways i'm not doing all too well, but in the most important ways right now, i'm doing a lot better. shit gets rough but i'm still in love with life. it never ceases to trip me right the hell out, and bless me with the presence of some crazy rad people. hella sweet views too. and i am eternally blessed to finally find some balance... or rather have the balance find me. thank you. so much.



xo

home is where the truck is.

is it strange that i feel more at home in a pickup truck than I ever have in a house? is it so wrong that i'd rather camp out under the stars than be cooped up in an inner city hotel? nah. i don't think so.

that said, i'll be hella stoked once I finally do have a house, i'd rather build one myself though. on a flatbed trailer. i am a transient being after all. i find it hard to sit still. 

another month, and finally some sun. after several weeks of constant rain, feeling the heat is a relief on the bones and mind alike. the temperature will be in the high twenties [celsius] inland this weekend, and I can't wait to soak it up. 

working six days a week certainly contrasts how I spent most of the winter. spring brings life and lots of work to be done. hibernation time is long gone. I'm hoping the next few months will allow me to catch up financially so that next winter can be a restful time with a lot less anxiety. speaking of, I think the medication is working. 

...

it sometimes brings me to tears to remember how i ended up here. it's almost been two years since my mother passed. had she not, i'd still be tethered to the homelands in constant worry for her. i sometimes feel guilty for that sense of relief. i miss her like crazy and it kills me that i can't just pick up the phone and call her when shit gets weird, but i'm thankful that she's no longer suffering. i'm grateful to know she's at peace. i can still feel her with me at times, calling me out on my shit, making sure i'm always doing my best in whatever messed up situation i find myself in, and reminding me to love, unconditional.

...even if that love isn't well received. or understood. or believed. it's there and it's undying, and that's what matters. i have a hard time expressing myself. even when my heart is exploding with all the love in the world for someone, i can't always find the right way to make it known. in friendships, relationships, with family.. having suppressed my feelings for far too many years just to keep myself sane, I have forgotten how to get it out. but I'm trying. 

...

anyhoo.. yeah I forgot to hit publish last week. boy do I ever have a tale to tell. the adventure continues...

disconnected.

 still failing at writing. still essentially 'home[less]', and mostly jobless too. this has been one of the most trying winters of my life. don't get me wrong, i've been far worse off as far as my living situation goes, but what's going on upstairs has been taking it's toll. i'm disconnected.


...

three days later, all i have written is that paragraph. few sentences rather.. it ain't easy putting things into words these days. i struggle on all levels to express myself. it's about fkin time i do something about it. and so here i am, talking about it. calling myself out. acknowledging the fact that this time around, i need a little help.

where do i even start.. at the start i suppose. i've always had a bit of a hard time as a being in this plane of existence, for lack of a better summation. i know i'm not alone on this. some are driven to perpetual states of mental or emotional instability, some choose to exit this plane, some become stronger people for it. i've mostly slotted in to the latter category. there's been some pretty dark days, years even.. but i always managed to bounce back better than before. on my own most times, luckily at some of the worst times supported by a few pretty rad friends.

given all the shit i've been through in my life, both situational and self inflicted, it's a bloody wonder sometimes how i've managed to survive this long with my sanity still mostly intact. i've always had systems in place, rituals, tools.. whatever you want to call them.. methods of dealing with various symptoms of PTSD. i built up said 'toolbox' piece by piece, teaching myself how to deal with bouts of anxiety, guilt, memory issues, nightmares, a bunch of other mental and emotional crap, and all the physical dis-ease that came along with it. somewhere along the line i must have left that toolbox open, tripped over it, and kicked it down the stairs.

it's happened a couple times. this time it's a struggle to find the energy to pick it all up again. i've been disconnected so long it's hard to think back to where this episode began. i have a pretty good idea. i know i've mentioned it before, how i never really gave myself a moment to mourn. it's been almost two years now since my mother followed through on her choice to leave this plane. i guess it never really came up. i buried that shit so deep i never thought it would reach the surface.

i'm pretty sure that's why i chose the path i did from that day on. i always felt responsible for her. i'd run to the ends of the country for a while, but i always returned back home. i left my toolbox in her corner closet for safe keeping. i kept myself alive even on those days i really didn't want to because i had to stay strong for her. my little brother too, but for her i was her rock. for so so long, i was the only one that would brave the wilds of her mindscape, that could bare her presence to give her the unconditional love she needed ever so much. for so long, with [and without] her, i was alone.

her following through on that decision was in part her way of saying 'you're free now'. that was always one of her things. she felt that she was keeping me there against my will. she had guilt. i know the feeling. the days and months following her passing i was numb. there was the initial shock, anger, distress regarding the situation, but i stifled it and locked it all away. which meant locking away all of my feelings, my ability to fully apply myself to friendships, relationships, share any part of my life with what family i do have.. and so here i am. a good few thousand kilometers away from everyone and everything i know. the couple friends i do have here i've managed to distance myself from and i wish i hadn't.time to gather those tools and rebuild.

i've always managed to recover regardless of my situation, one of the biggest recoveries i'd made was while backpacking across the country with no fixed address. things are a little different now, and as i've grown older i have realized that one of the most critical things i need in my corner is a home base. i've been floating for almost four months now in winter no less, and i'm positive this has had the most major impact on my lack of ability to gather myself. i need a place with lock and key, a bed in which to sleep, a kitchen to maintain my physical well-being, and access to running water when i need it, cause you know.. hygiene. it's a thing, especially when making a solid attempt at being a functioning member of society.

i spend a considerable amount of time and mental energy focusing on my next move of the day, and harbouring the will to do so. how am i going to feed myself, where will i sleep, am i doing everything i can to still be supportive to my loved ones, that sort of thing. at the end of the day it leaves me with not a whole hell of a lot of energy to focus on more personal matters, to be creative, to be myself. and if i can't be myself, i'm no good to anyone. i can't expand on my horizons or psych myself up to be open to new things if i don't have that established routine. there's no space for random awesomeness, and no time or mental power to think.

 ...

there was a brief time there back in october where i remembered who i was. i was my-self. dropped all the defences, allowed myself to feel something. i ran into someone who i'd never thought i would find in this crazy world that could see through all the shit there in that moment, and in that moment i had hope. i'm in there somewhere. the me that i like to be, that everyone loves to see.. the passionate, compassionate, outgoing crusader of love. the moment was brief. i miss that me.

this week i made a decision to seek medical help. i've tried for so long on my own to get by and get through each day without being medicated, besides a little help from my favourite plant. even that can't curb the anxiety the way it used to. given the family history and enough mental, emotional and physical trauma to sink a bloody battleship, i'm running short on options and hoping this one can provide me with some level of relief until i can rebuild on my own.

that's about all i have to say right now, and it took me forever to get it out. thank you so much to the ones out there who have been supportive and understanding, it really means the world to me and i probably wouldn't be around if it wasn't for you.. y'all know who you are. just know that i'm not giving up, i don't do that shit. i just need a minute.

the balance

i want to remember this, but i'm having a hard time keeping track. i rarely write anymore, almost never tote around my camera, even my sketchbook is suffering neglect. i'm not sure what my problem is. a part of it may be time management, and admittedly part laziness.. a healthy dose of forgetfulness too. forgetting to remember, yeah that sounds like something i'd do.

this is me making an effort. i'm writing something which is better than nothing, right? i suppose shit got too real there for a minute. did the Ontario and back thing, made a somewhat triumphant return to VanCity, happened into a place to live and sourced out two jobs real quick to make ends meet. and they almost do.. almost.

be careful what you wish for. that seems to be the theme of the year. the past couple even.. that shit just might come true. and then what? am i satisfied? i should be. i got what i wished for. now i need to find the balance.

sometimes i forget to smile, to be grateful for every little thing i have. as i should be. i'm in a beautiful place, i made a few friends, there's plenty of opportunity for adventure and to learn new things. yet i'm still somehow exhausted at the very notion of keeping up with it all. sometimes all i want to do is sleep for an entire week, camp out on a couch for a month or spend half a year getting cozy with my tent, but at this point in time those are non-options. what i can and should do is learn to deal with the cards i've been dealt.. drew from the deck myself rather. this is my own doing.

...


a couple weeks have passed since i started writing this. summer is making itself known as the sun grows hotter each day. it's hard to sleep at night. not that i ever had much luck with that. it's been a few months since i returned from Ontario, nine since i decided to leave in the first place, and thirteen months to the day since my mother died. i'm lacking in direction lately. back home i had the house and the garden, a job i'd had for years, comfort, structure. i grew bored, but it was simple. long term goals, plans, and the direction i'm currently lacking. all these things i didn't have my whole life and when i finally had them, i walked away. the only thing i can be sure of, is that everything will change.

i don't know what else to say about all that, except that i'm feeling strange. still, i don't want to forget this.. another month later i finally hit the publish button. it's July. what is wrong with me?

home and back... home.

yeah. blog wagon, i broke it... so i'll make an attempt. i've been meaning to write for a while. i'm not entirely sure why i chose February of all months to return to my homeland, i suppose it made sense at the time. it was a reminder both of why i stuck around so long in the first place, and why i left for good.

i suppose the journey began as it would, at the greyhound station. i'm always buckled over with anxiety before travel for days or even weeks, until i'm sitting in my seat. not sure why, given the amount of times i've travelled ridiculous distances in this country but hey, it happens. the ride back to Ontario was long, cold, and for a brief moment absolutely terrifying. of course a massive snowstorm would roll into the Rockies just in time for my departure, which naturally resulted in some delays. one of which was a perspective changing, near-death experience.. the last thing i'd expected from the trip.

twilight before the sunrise is a strange and lonely time on a long distance bus ride. i have a hard time sleeping in general, so on a moving bus it's pretty well impossible. i was one of three passengers awake at the time, and the very only one sitting up in my seat looking out the window. coming down a hill to a bend in the road our coach passed a transport truck laying upside-down off the side of the highway, right before a drop-off in the mountain pass. glad that ain't us i was thinking, when all of a sudden the highway in front of us was coming at me through the side window. our bus began to spin, the back wheels and trailer hit the snowbank sending the rear of the bus fishtailing back in the opposite direction mere feet from the edge of the bloody mountain.. the moment the driver started yelling 'oh shit oh shit' was about the time the whole life flashing before my eyes thing began, the moment i thought it was all over.

everything was silent. what all had happened in less than a minute felt like an eternity. i could see and feel everything so intensely. the force of the coach losing control, the gently falling snow off in the distance, the heartbeat in my chest, the soft white blanket covering the trees, the icy ravine below.. it was all so real, so vivid. if this is it i thought, i lived a full life, i had a good time. i wasn't 'ready' to die, but i accepted the possibility. no fear and no regrets, in the moment.. eventually we coasted to a stop. finally i could take a breath. my ears stopped ringing. it's not over yet.

that incident sort of set the tone for the rest of the trip. winter was unforgiving, the task at hand was majorly daunting, and i didn't get to see everyone i'd hoped to. i'm grateful for the time i did get with my fams and a few good friends. i spent a good portion of my time alone and under ground trying to figure this part out. reflecting on just about every period of my life as i went through every little thing i've managed to hold on to, deciding what to keep and what to give away. photos, journals, art projects.. i'm not even sure how i still had most of it. my mother held on to a few things dearly, which i inherited back when she passed.

about that.. it's almost been a year now. when it first happened i had a hard time letting go. half of the stuff in that storage locker was hers not mine.. i panicked dealing with her sudden death and being responsible for 'cleaning up the mess' so to speak. it's not an easy thing to stay calm about, and there are things one feels when the mother dies that no one and nothing can prepare you for. cyclical waves of heart wrenching pain and hollow numbness. time does heal. returning to the locker of memorabilia was far less painful than it had been at the start. i still have my moments, this might be one of them..

...


i have arrived, i am home.

the journey back west was met with far less resistance. the sub-zero temps let up the day i left, the sun shone down on the greyhound bus the entire way through the prairies.. not a single flake of snow fell in any of the five provinces. i felt this was the correct direction of travel. Vancouver had been experiencing the warmest February on record while i was busy closing up shop down in the coldest Ontario had seen in over a century. the shock of returning to green lawns and cherry blossoms was overwhelming. on top of a smooth ride i managed to fluke out with an available room to rent in a house full of friends, and i have an interview for a job this coming monday in a place where i'd never have to work nights, weekends or holidays. fingers crossed.. could i be so lucky?

my destination is in each step.

every moment is brand new, besides the déjà vu of course. a friend told me once that when you experience déjà vu it is believed to signify that you are exactly where you should be in life, on the right path at the right time.. or something like that. i've always kind of felt that way even though i'm sure there's a perfectly good scientific reason for the whole phenomenon. anyways, it's hard not to exist in the moment. i've done a whole lot of moving around, but always ended up back where i started. this is the first time in my life that i intend to permanently transplant myself in a faraway land.

it feels good to be home. to feel like i'm someplace i should be.. to start over. it's hard to be homesick when home is where the heart is and i left my heart here on the coast. tomorrow is a new day. onward..

before i forget..

six months ago already. something changes when the mother passes, something..


a sudden silence. i still remember that night. it was the last night of my vacation, i'd spent the week prepping the garden so that my brother and i could bring her to see it for mother's day. i couldn't sleep... it was warm, the first warm night of the year.

earlier that week i'd talked to her on the phone. she sounded happy, but her voice was distant. she had finally knocked the last thing off her list, she found her best friend. and there was one more surprise, a baby kitten. new life.. pure joy. she named him punkin, after the first kitty i remember having as a child.

months before, after the last of many attempts at taking her own life, we had a conversation about happiness. i remember telling her the very same bit of advice that had gotten me through the darkest days of my own journey.. you can't rely on a single other person in this world to make you happy. not your parents, not your children, not your husband or your best friend.. the only person in the whole world that can make you happy is you. and then i asked her, what is it that you want? what can you do to make you happy?

she sat quietly for a moment.

she turned her head and looked at me, and flashed a smile full of broken rotted teeth. "i want my smile back" she said, and laughed. she started to make a list. dentures, dignity. some way to get out of this house, a car was out of the question.. scooter. she missed her best friend.. a phone call. to find a new apartment.. home.

there were a few other things on the list that i was not aware of. she wanted to speak to her sister again, something she hadn't done [without a fight] in years, which she finally did the day before. she wanted cable television. she wanted to know that her children would live a good life.

it was a long and terribly cold winter. i didn't get to visit her often, but she'd gotten herself a cell phone so that she could text. one day i got a message saying that she was going to have all of her teeth pulled. the start of the process. for months after, she would wait toothless until she could be fitted for her dentures. she had to pay quite a bit out of her disability pension to get it done, but she didn't seem to mind.

one day in february i received a frantic phone call. she was on a mission uptown and her loaner scooter crapped out on the side of the road. it was far too cold for the battery to keep going, and not knowing what else to do, i paid for a handycab to go and pick it up. she was on a waiting list for that too, to have a new scooter of her very own. it was starting to look more and more like it wouldn't happen, they kept telling her she wasn't 'eligible' for a new one. she remained patient.

at some point in that jumble of time and spending of money, she had missed a rent payment. she was about to lose her home. by some grace of god or the universe or something, after the threat of being put out in the cold, she came up with the money to make the rent. she realized then that the place she was at was where she wanted to stay. she could check home off the list.

a couple more months had passed as she sat waiting. even though it was starting to look as though she might not get everything that she wanted, she refused to give up hope. one day out of nowhere she got a phone call from the mobility specialists, 'your scooter is ready, we will bring it by tomorrow'. she was so happy she called me right away. it was even candy apple red, just as she'd hoped for.

within the next few weeks everything was coming together. she had reunited with her best friend and partner, she finally got herself some cable tv, she even got a hand-me-down big screen from my brother to enjoy it on. and spring was coming, with her new wheels she could get out to enjoy the sun.

the most exciting thing for her had to be the teeth. she got them just in time for easter dinner. i told her, whatever she wanted to eat with her new teeth, i'd make it happen. i already knew what she would say.. chinese! on my way to her house that easter sunday, i picked up a serving of all of her favourites. fried rice, sweet and sour chicken, wonton soup and all the fixins. she had the biggest smile i'd ever seen when i came through the door. i wish i had taken a picture, had i known...

and then the questions. 'are you alright?' ..i wondered why she was asking. yeah of course i'm alright what do you mean? she meant in general. she asked if my brother and i were well. i told her that finally after years i'd found a place to call home, and somewhere to start my farm. i have a decent steady job, and good things to look forward to. my brother, he's alright too. he's about to get his full license, is making more money than i do, and has a lovely girlfriend that treats him good. all the things a mother loves to hear. her children grew up successful and happy despite everything. we talked for a while longer, she said she was happy too.

that was the last time i'd seen her. i had to leave, and for the first time when we hugged goodbye, she didn't cry. she smiled again when i turned around to close the door, so i put down my backpack and returned for one more hug and kiss.

many years of her life were spent in the throes of physical and emotional pain, addiction and mental illness. the last decade her body slowly gave out. she was due to have a pacemaker, a section of her intestines removed which would mean shitting in a bag the rest of her life, and three times a week dialysis. she'd suffered a heart attack, had a brush with skin cancer, and lived with a degenerating spine for as long as i could remember. she had far surpassed the point of no return as far as her health goes, and yet she still managed to pull herself together to find peace, joy and happiness in the last few months in her body.

cause of death: organ failure due to overdose. no one will ever know for sure if it was accidental or on purpose, especially given her history of attempts. what i do know is she was ready to go. this time, i couldn't be angry. this time, there was no text message, no letter, no phone call. just a silence in the night. this time it was not in anger or fear or despiration. there was no spite, or hatred for the world that consumed her. she was happy, and she made it all happen herself. not a single other person in this world...

"for the first time in my life i can say, i'm finally happy. i got my wheels, i got my teeth, i got my cable tv... i have my best friend here, my kids are happy... i have everything i need. oh and guess what, i got a kitten!"

i could hear a little meow, and she was laughing. i was standing in the garden covered in dirt when the phone cut out. that was the last time we spoke. no last i love you, no last goodbye.. the line is still open.


...


mom, i miss you every day. even though it breaks my heart to know i'll never hug you again, i'm glad you no longer have to suffer. thank you for this life, for my brother, and for all the lessons. thanks for holding on long enough for us all to realize what is important in this life. family, hope, happiness, helping one another, and above all, love...

raincouver

i suppose it could be the weather.. i've never really been one to complain about the rain. makes sense though, grey skies forever can take it's toll on the soul. been feeling a little better the past couple days, good company and a pretty awesome ska show may have been a help. the night shift has put an interesting spin on things as well. i wonder how long that will last..

now that most of the pressing matters are settling like finding a source of income and a place to lay my head, other things that i haven't taken the time to deal with are floating to the surface. i've never missed my mother so much.. sometimes i still pull out my phone to call her when something crazy or new happens and then.. yea. but most of the time i'm confident she can hear me. i blame my happy coincidences and lucky windfalls on her. she must be lookin out for me from somewhere, because i don't think i could luck out so much on my own.

not that i don't appreciate having a warm place to stay, but the cool and constant rain makes it that much more appealing. my perspective on needs and what is important to be comfortable has shifted once again. twenties me was perfectly content with not much more than a tent for shelter, but these days having just a tiny cozy room with a reading lamp, space heater and someplace to keep books and dry clothes is heavenly. i think i'll enjoy this for a while.

the job too. i know i complain sometimes about 'working for the man' but there's always a benefit besides the money. it keeps my mind busy, gives me something to focus on besides my crazy life. meeting new people is pretty cool too. there's a comfortable level of social interaction that comes with my particular job, dealing mostly with truck drivers and vendor reps, no customers involved. thus trucker mouth is perfectly acceptable and i get to be myself. not having the routine for a few months allowed me the space to appreciate having some outside force keeping me to a schedule. it encourages me to eat better and make effort to get proper rest. eventually, i might even start to remember what day it is again.. or maybe i'll allow that to be one of those things that never matters. i can't believe it's almost november..

i'm also enjoying the particular neighbourhood that i decided to take up residence in. it's chill, quiet, mostly immigrants that love to grow food. i'm down with that.. already making plans for joining in on the action this coming spring. luckily people who garden love to share, so i'll get some first hand lessons on what to grow in this climate. the sun come spring will be amazing after this long long rain..

until then, umbrellas up, parkas on and enjoy raincouver. makes for some pretty neat mushrooms anyways.. and thank goodness there's lots of live shows and a happening music scene to keepVancity lively. onward.

stuff and things.

dammit. i'm just horrible at this. i used to write all the time. more so in pen and paper, but my pile of books is getting heavy. speaking of heavy, i'm starting to feel the weight of my decisions. i take full responsibility for all and any of my actions.. including the things i choose to carry. i didn't realize how much i'd been carrying around until my mother passed. and since then, i've taken on more. the history of both of us is stowed away in a storage locker half a world away that i can't afford to hang on to much longer.

i know it's just stuff. for the longest time despite our liking or not for one another at the time, mom was always cool about hanging on to my stuff. i made a habit of never keeping anything of monetary value to reduce the risk of anything getting pawned. once she had settled into the sickness the likelihood of her moving around wasn't so good. my past was safe for years, wrapped in plastic to hold off the smoke clouds, stashed in her walk-in closet.

emptying out her apartment was one of the hardest things i've ever had to do. i wasn't ready to let go yet, to her little hand-painted crafts, the dining room table, the dressers she scored somewhere from the seventies that currently hold my winter clothes. so i rented a locker and crammed it all in with my own. in a few months i'll have to go back there and decide what to do with everything.

it's a little overwhelming right now to think of but i have to start thinking. i kept all of the things from my youth that reminded me of better days. that cabinet my dad built me full of beanie toys is probably the least practical thing i've got stashed away, but reminds me of a time i didn't have to care so much about what the hell i'm doing with myself. they're the only things i kept in good condition, i'm considering giving them to some sort of cause like a charity auction or donating them to toys for tots.

just about everything else is a little more personal. photo albums, clothes i've had since i lived outside, the stereo i got my mother for christmas one year that just happened to be her favourite thing in the world [plus all the music my brother and i got her to go with it].. then there's my very own personal library. let's not forget the books, paperbacks i'd had stashed in various places all collected into a huge stand-up shelving unit.. way more than i thought. i might suck it up and make two cross-country trips just to bring back what i can as far as books go. oh yeah and that big black steel trunk. you know, the oldskool looking ones with the copper strapping, covered in various bumper stickers and things my mother wrote on top to remember. it houses artwork from school days of my brother and i, our baby clothes, my mother's rack of collectible spoons. unless i get a vehicle, that thing won't be going very far.

there's totes of memorobilia. not all of it is mine. i have things that were given to me by friends that i held onto dearly, old manual film cameras, jackets, hats, and of course a whole other seasonal set of camping gear. even the tent is full of memories of living outside in as many corners of the country i could have ever hitched to and through. my sky-blue mini dome palace in the trees. things like that i could sell and just get again later if i need them, in the long run it'd be cheaper than paying to store them for months on end.

then there's a bunch of stuff i collected in the few years i became domesticated, workout equipment, art and craft supplies including paints and canvasses, a million different kinds of beads, probably a hundred pounds in half-used sketchbooks and and pieces that somehow survived since highschool. i'm already trying to find homes for things i know i have in my inventory to make the process of purging easier.

i'm not yet sure what i'll do with a few of the criticals. if i try real hard i can probably cut back so that all of my keepers fit into the trunk. if i can find a place to safely store that away in the meantime, it will help put my mind at ease. until then i've got to remember to relax. worrying about what must happen in the future isn't doing me much good now, all i can do is try to plan for it and stay positive. i wish i could have the strength to just let it all go.. but there's some things like the letters my mother held onto, the journals i so carefully made sure never to lose, and the photos of lives long passed that i'd have a hard time forgiving myself for letting go of.

until then i have to figure out how to maintain here in a new place and hold the little life i'm building together. right now my expenses are pushing me beyond my means, there's no budget beyond food and shelter, no room for quality of life leisure spending, not even to save to go home. i'm living on a prayer that the things i'm gearing up for work out in my favour so that i don't dig myself so far into the red it's impossible to recover. when i get home, i'll see what i can sell, salvage and give away to save myself from another year of hanging onto my past four provinces away.

moving on..

 we are thinking of moving in the spring..

so i look around the yard for what i might take with me.

i can leave the garden, perhaps take a plant or two,

and the planter box most definitely, it's from my brother.

and the water barrel from my dad

and of my mother, all i have are these hands

that plant the seeds into the soil.

my sisters are beckoning me
the white tipped tops of mountains calling..
before we make the move i must go sailing
to find the place where the sun sets
to put my mind at ease.

when my mother left, she took time with her
as if she was the only one keeping count.
the days no longer exist if not on paper
minutes no longer pass without the digits on the wall.
so this is freedom..

Retired.

it's the end of an extra long weekend, and i won't be getting up for work in the morning. there's no more alarms, no rushing to get ready, no hourly dealines five days a week. there's other deadlines now, like getting things done before i leave in three weeks, making sure i have enough money to pay the few bills i still have on time, and contemplating ways i can sustain myself [make money] without working forty hours a week for someone else. i have to pick and dive in to hopefully see a return before i run out of loot. if not, of course there's always a plan b. work for someone else, only not as much.. i have one hell of a resume. that way i'd still have time to develop my own business plan. and yknow, actually enjoy living without being exhausted all the time.

i have to get a stone for my mother's grave. we finally put her ashes to rest on Friday afternoon. finally, a moment of closure for her family. i've been anxious especially to put down the marker, but the price has gone up quite a bit since the last time one of us was buried. i'll make it happen one way or another. it'll likely be the last thing i do before i leave, to bring my stepdad there to visit. but i want the stone to be in place first. i refuse to go before this happens. i'm working on a post about closure, so i'll save the rest of that thought.

which brings me to my point.. i'm having a hard time trying to relax. i did my best to take some time over the long weekend and just lay in my tent, or wander slowly without a destination. it's difficult to do so without the thoughts of 'real life' leaking in. i find relief when i stand barefoot in the dirt, in the garden. it's wonderful to just sit in the yard, and breathe deep. the green oasis that we built does well to mask the bustle of the city beyond.

i spent a good hour just laying on my mat in the grass under the tarp. i had a bug's eye view of the yard, when i had my eyes open. i could see the blades of grass dancing gently in the breeze. the crickets chirp at all hours of the day and night in this lush green inner city cove. the air is lovely down there in the grass, i couldn't help but drift off in the calm. eventually i was awakened by the sound of dog tags clanging together as their owner pranced towards me. a wet nose in my face brought me back into consciousness.

there's much to do, and i must get back on task in the morning, save my sanity. it was nice just hanging out in the yard, like in the summer days between the years of grade school. the sense of not needing to be anywhere but where i was brought me back.

mid-july

it's been a strange summer. when the sun is out, the heat is intense. but otherwise, cool.
the sun hasn't been out as much as most summers. lots of overcast and rain. almost coastal weather..
not complaining, but it's strange no less.

i woke up this morning with a headache. not unusual i suppose, i've been getting them the past couple weeks. but today it was too much. i think the couple days of sun and humidity there got to me. i realized that i've been pushing myself pretty hard the past few weeks, and not sleeping. trying to get as much done as i can, and forgetting to rest. all of everything caught up to me, and i spent most of today in the garden or on the bed.

i'm glad that i got to see the first sunflower open. i was worried that i'd be gone already, as last year they didn't open til september when i was just leaving for Nova Scotia. they're huge this year, almost eight feet tall. i love them. i can't help but smile when i see sunflowers. some of the mammoth seeds were pushed into the ground the morning my mother passed, before i even knew that she was gone. only she was there with me..

i miss her. it's getting easier in the day-by-day, but those times that waves of emotions surface from the ocean within, there is no stopping their tidal force. some days i wish so much that she could see me now, that she could see me driving or taking off for the coast. sometimes i don't need to wish so much. sometimes i can feel her smile in the sun, her laughter in the wind.

one week left until retirement.

becoming transient

after 'sitting' so long, i'm a little nervous about not having a steady job and a fixed address for a while. i'm nervous about being truly and completely transient in my lifestyle, which is usually my preferred mode of existence. it's been too long is all, so i must transition slowly. i've started the process of scaling down before being on the move once again.

things are different this time. the last time i tripped around the countryside with a backpack, i didn't have much of an aim except to get away. i certainly don't regret it, i learned a lot of what i know from that journey. this time i'm looking to solidify the sense of transience in my life. if that makes any bit of sense. i've become used to being anchored, comfortable in domesticated life. i have unhealthy habits, do the same things often, i'm bored. not bored necessarily with the world around me, just my perspective of it. i long for the days that i miss this place, and become excited to return home. even if only for a little while..

i suppose that's the point. i'm getting back to my roots. the ones i grew myself, from the seeds planted in my mind by my mother. precious ideas like always have a plan b, and be ready for sudden change. be comfortable enough to call the countryside my home, and be safe.

two things i like having is a storage locker, and a gym membership. no matter what, i have somewhere to keep my stuff, and somewhere to shower. finding a place to sleep is an easier challenge, knowing that all my belongings are safe and dry for however long i need to leave them means a lot. i have both of these things already. i was sure to get a super cheap gym membership, only 20 bucks a month. that way if i leave for a few months at a time, i don't feel it's a much of a waste to reserve that membership.

i've decided that i'll keep the garage as a sort of home base here in my hometown. it's comfortable, and relatively inexpensive. there is room to sit and think or sort through my stuff or create something, and my gear is organized and stored in shelves and my mother's old dressers. no matter where i end up when i come back, i know there's a place in the heart of the city where i can sit comfortably and catch my breath. that way, regardless of what happens at the farmhouse while i'm gone, i know my personal belongings won't get caught up in the mix or left behind. there's always the possibility that one day these floods will get out of hand [i say as rainwater creeps under my feet] or that my housemates will decide to bail on the place for some other reason. i wouldn't blame them if they had to, but i wouldn't want the loss of some personal junk being a reason for any hard feelings.

one thing that has really come into perspective is just how much gear and clothing i've accumulated over the years. this is my first time really having everything i own in one place as opposed to being scattered between where i keep stuff and where i'm staying and some other friend's closet somewhere. i won't have to do any shopping for a while, when i wear through an undershirt or socks i know i have a surplus in the garage.

about the clothing.. i suppose one thing i've been taking for granted for a while is having a big ol' laundry hamper. it fits a few loads, and it's on wheels so i can drag it down the street to wash. i've gotten used to being able to just put on a fresh new entire set of clothes every day. sometimes if i get dirty enough at work twice a day, and by the end of the week i've got a couple loads. as a part of the scaling down process, i'm setting aside the things i really like to wear right now, and storing some in the drawers in the garage. i have to get used to laundry day fitting in a backpack instead of a 4 wheeled cart.

it's a kind of stress relief, really. having less and less to worry about right now. knocking expenses off the monthly budget list is nice too. the frightening part is knocking off the bi-weekly paycheck, something else i've come all too comfortable with. my savings will float me through a few months of expenses, but i'll have to find periodical or seasonal employment to keep chugging along. not that i'm worried about finding a job, just that comfort zone thing again. been in the same place a long while.

i have a few other resources lined up. i renewed my WWOOFing membership so that i can stretch my money while i learn new things and earn my keep on various organic farms out in the mountains. i have a backup job lined up in VanCity for when the time comes to rack up more loot. the reality of 'going home' is beginning to sink in. all in all, it's a good feeling.

6-26

6 weeks later.. finally starting to ease out of the anxiety. it'd been building for quite some time over the winter, but intensified shortly after the reality of my mother's passing in May had set in. i knew that my entire outlook had changed, and that i was ready to choose a new direction, i just didn't know what i wanted to do. i'm still not sure i know exactly, but i'm getting a lot of good ideas.

i jumped on the first opportunity that aroused. i built a new resume, enrolled in driver's ed, and rented a small garage to use as a workspace. i had taken steps towards a change and as i was about to make it, i'd realized the anxiety was still there. it was just...different worries.

instead of being anxious about living paycheck to paycheck, i was worried about rearranging my schedule to accommodate shift work and overtime and very deeply become a cog in the machine. in exchange for a pretty penny of course. i'd have plenty of money to work with and save, but have to struggle for time to enjoy it. dedicate myself for at least a year straight.. would it be worth it? maybe.. but i want to feel better. i thought not worrying about money would help, but it's time i'm after. i decided on another direction all together.

first, i had to accept the idea of change. one way or another, it had to happen. i've been with the company i'm with now for years.. even quit and come back, and taken leave to travel, but it'd more or less become my home base. i've met so many great people over the years, and work with an amazing team right now. for the longest time the idea of leaving them all was out of the question. i had settled in. but if you know me you know, i'm never really settled.

once i started getting over the idea of leaving, different opportunities began to shine through. even ones that have been available for a while, i had just forgotten they were options until i was gently reminded. i'm free to go. i think i might just drift a short while first, catch up on some me time and visits to old friends. do some camping, hiking, rent a room and do some seasonal work, WWOOF on a farm or two, and spend Christmas on the coast. who knows yet really, i'll figure the path when it comes to my feet.

for now... a garden, and fresh pressed juice.

Sam's Garage

it's interesting how things turn out..

when my mother passed, i refused to scramble right away to figure out what to do with all her stuff.. her stuff and ours. so much memorabilia she had hung on to over the years made up most of her belongings. and some random old solid wood furniture. so i snagged a storage locker for a month to give me time to sort out what is what.

for the past couple weeks, ive been trying to organize what's in my little room in this tiny little bachelor apartment so that maybe we could squeeze in some of mom's furniture, and i took it as an opportunity to go through all of my stuff. in doing so, i found that most of my stuff [minus the memorabilia] is actually useful stuff, and a lot of it [clothes, gear, outdoor stuff] is only used seasonally, and i thought how handy it would be to have a garage. tada! lightbulb..

the storage locker is right down the road! we're paying so little for rent here, it's worth the extra hundred bucks a month to rent the space to store all our gear for it's season of use. and now that we have the space to work through the things we own, we can actually make use of them instead of becoming frustrated trying to remember where things are in the multiple stacks of totes in the corner of the room.

not sure why i'd never thought of it before, but i suppose i'm glad i didn't because i wouldn't have the very one i have now. especially given my previous experiences living out of small storage spaces, you would think i would have thought sooner to hang on to it. after a few weeks of trying to figure out how to get rid of the furniture, and then realizing i didn't really want to, i'm glad now i have a way to make use of it until we have a workshop of our own. the storage locker rearranged is now Sam's Garage.

given we used the name she went by the most as the name for Sandy Shores Farm, i figured it'd only be fitting to call the other creative space after another of her nicknames, Sam. it is after all half her stuff and half mine, which is all a part of the same story anyway.

i like this space. i ended up with a bigger locker than we needed because it was the only one left, apparently storage lockers are in high demand this time of year. with the extra space, everything can be arranged functionally and organized so that it can be used instead of stacked in a heap like it was in our little spare room. it faces east so it doesn't heat up as horribly as the units that get the afternoon sun, and there's a bunch of cats that hang out in the garden i can see from the garage. i had my headphones on while sitting at the table going through papers, and three of them had snuck right to the door to check me out.

now that taking inventory of my life and organization have made it to the frontline of my action plan, i'm excited to have this opportunity to take advantage of. i have my very own garage! and i can keep all my textbooks there like my own little library instead of constantly praying i don't lose any of them to the dampness that sometimes overtakes the apartment. and if ever i'm in a situation where i must vacate where i'm at [especially since technically it's not even my apartment], i can certainly stack everything in a way so that it all fits here, bed included. my whole life [and hers] fits into a ten by ten foot square.

onward...

From the Ashes

i've been thinking about writing a book for a long time. it's just hard to begin..

last year i experienced a great deal of self reflection and self-realization. right at the start of the year i was nominated to represent my district at the annual international shareholders meeting. these things are sort of a big deal.. and a once in a lifetime opportunity. i was honoured to be nominated, but it hadn't crossed my mind that i'd actually win.

i had to audition. i had to tell my story.


i suppose that's where it got a little fuzzy with me. where exactly does my story begin? when i started with the company, fresh off the streets? when i ended up out there to begin with? the difficult childhood? the foster home that broke me? the mother i fought with and protected? was it my story to tell? i wasn't sure. i told the bits that i was most comfortable with. that i had been out on the streets, finishing high school, and that i'd borrowed an address and a nice pair of clothes to get that job. i didn't mention my long streak of chemical escapism, or about my sponsor who drove me from town to town so that i could attend narcotics anonymous seven days a week.

i mentioned all the positive bits like how i was more or less raised by the people in this company, their basic beliefs, their moral standards. that i had become who i am today based on my faith in those things.. service, respect and striving for excellence. but i didn't quite mention the part about how my upbringing [or lack thereof] is what taught me how to be patient with intense people and difficult situations, to have empathy for the most haggard of sufferers, to hide my own pain. i only told the happy ending.

and i won.

i suppose i never really gave it much thought after that. before my audition i had a conversation with my manager about someday writing a book. i wasn't too sure what kind of book she meant, be it a story of my life type book, a self-help guide for the socially impaired, or both. but there was one thing keeping me from writing.. my mother.

it was never just my story. it was hers too. a story i felt i could never tell while she was still living. not out of shame, or even guilt, but out of fear that i would break her suffering heart to speak the words for all to hear. to tell the real truth. it was never my intention to hurt her with those words but liberate her... from the guilt she carried of not being there for us when we were younger. to let her see that i never carried spite for her because of our situation, i never could. but i could never be sure how she would take it. i promised i'd start my book as soon as she passed. be it a year or a decade from now, or sometime after i retire.

since then, the story changed.

well, maybe not the story itself, more so my perspective of it.

her life wasn't all tragic. she and her siblings had to deal with other kinds of abuse and neglect throughout their childhood. she had her forms of escapism, she had to make her very own mistakes. but she also had her own share of crazy adventures, good laughs, and big dreams. she was intelligent, creative, inspiring, empathetic, and a really good friend. she had the right answers to the strangest questions, and a faith in many things unseen. most of these are fading memories of the people she knew back when, some my brother and i were lucky enough to catch glimpses from time to time.

i think i'm ready to write this story down. and share it. that sharing part i'm a kind of nervous about, not that i've ever cared much for others' opinions of me. still a little fuzzy on the starting point, maybe there isn't one. maybe it won't be a chronological book but a collection of random memories that serve as little lessons or deep learnings. maybe i'll just keep it here, in the uncertain electronic media that is the interweb. or perhaps someday i'll collect the best of the best and bound their words to the world of ink and paper.

there's so many little stories and big ol' books written by others about their lives that have impacted me greatly, and taught me about worlds i could have never understood without their teachings. that have taught me things about myself i never took a moment to even realize. their stories helped me to see myself and my own life through more careful eyes, and inspired me to be better to myself. maybe something i have to say can do that for someone else. or maybe it will help me to mentally digest my experiences just to write them out. either way.. it's time get started. it's time.

dandelion fluff.

i've experienced some pretty incredible triumphs in my lifetime, and some pretty horrible and gruesome failures.. and though they were horrible and gruesome [and some incredibly expensive], i can hardly regret them. i am beginning to realize that sometimes you must see something fall apart completely to understand how it works.

...

 

i haven't been writing much.. or at all really, on any blogs or anything at all. it's not that i don't have anything to write about, or the lack of words to write it out [for once!], it's just that i haven't had the time. so much has been happening. it's hard to digest. meaningful coincidences, things suddenly making sense... and i've been pretty busy too. getting organized has a sudden sense of urgency behind it, and i've been pretty focused on that in many aspects of my life. at home, on the job, in my mind.. putting things in their place to maximize their potential. observing things, their strengths and weaknesses, trying new systems to see how they work. and did i mention the garden? all that, one word... permaculture.

don't get me wrong, i miss my mother. terribly. it still kills me in solitary moments when i deeply realize that us kids will not hug her again in this life. but we can still tell her stories.. through our hearts and through our actions. and i suppose, that's what i've been up to. my brother too. we just have different ways of going about things. always do.

we spent so much time worrying ourselves about the poor woman, and it was hard knowing there wasn't much we could do to help. she wouldn't take it. and it was sad to see her uncomfortable for so long. we miss her so much, but it's relieving to know she no longer has to suffer. that she isn't stuck here, immobilized by pain. now that she's safe and warm, we can live our lives to the fullest without guilt and worry in our hearts. just love. ps. she missed her mother too.

Happy Mother's Day Mom.

 it doesn't feel quite as apocalyptic as it did 42 hours ago, but i can tell you it's been the longest weekend of my life. you were always so sick, my brother and i had been preparing to get that call for over a decade now.. it's just... it finally came in the moment we least expected. well, it's nice to know you gave it your all in the last six months of your life. i'm glad as your children we could give you the motivation you needed to start turning your life around.

when i heard you tell me that for the first time in as long as you could remember you were finally happy, i felt as though the clouds for miles and centuries had finally parted to let in a little light. my heart was filled with hope that you would make it through and it would be a lovely summer. knowing you were happy and doing fine, Dan and i didn't feel the need to constantly check in on you to make sure you were still kicking. you had your best friend there with you finally, and we had a moment to plan a super awesome mother's day surprise.

Danno got his full license monday morning, and we rented a truck the very next day to haul some dirt and mulch and sheep shit back home to the garden. we were talking about how we could get you out of the house now, and take you to all the places you couldn't get to on your own. we would pick you up for mother's day, and take you to your favourite restaurant for all you can eat, and bring a great big basket of all your favourite fruits you were missing out on. now that you had your smile back [both your happiness AND your teeth] it'd be a good time getting in some practice.

so anyways, back to the garden. i spent the week laying it down, and working in a nice, soft, golden cedar path for you to walk on. all i could think was how your brand new little red scooter was good enough for the ride to get you here and back all by yourself. it's gonna be huge this year, i was so proud to think that i finally had the 'farm' in the works for you to come enjoy. fresh toasted tomato sammiches for days.

i had a hard time sleeping thursday night.

i'm not sure if it was because i knew it was the last night i didn't have to set an alarm to wake up on my vacation, or if i was just super excited to get the seeds in the ground. i felt a little strange as the clock turned closer to four a.m. and i was still awake here waiting for the sunrise. maybe i had a feeling it was the final hour of your life. when i realized the time i laid down for a couple hours of shut-eye.

when i opened the door to the outside, the warm breeze brought the smell of summer. after so many long frigid days and dark and frosty nights it was nice to finally step out into the suN. i prepared what i needed slowly, and carefully. the seeds i was most excited for was the mammoth sunflowers. they would tower over us one day soon. a few more finishing touches and i could call to let you know you'd see it Sunday afternoon.

...

it was 4:19 when the phone rang.

Dan was on the line. did you get a strange call from the police station just now? i said no why what's going on? "they said it was about our mother and they can't tell me anything over the phone." he told me he was on his way to the station and he'd call me back as soon as he knew the situation. i hung up the phone. 4:20p.m.

4:21... i opened my tear filled eyes. the sky covered over quickly. suddenly we'd lost the suN. the wind picked up, i thought.. i'd better get the tools inside before they turn into wind-born projectiles. i made it back inside the doorway as the clouds opened up. i stood there with my arms outstretched to feel the rain. i knew that you were gone.

...

every single moment since has passed like an eternity. there's a sort of silence i can't fully describe. it takes what feels like years to fall asleep, and it hurts like hell to know that i can't call you when i wake up. i kept looking at my phone waiting for the next "Mom" text to arrive.

i called your best friend as soon as i found his number. we went to visit him and made sure he's okay. it's one thing to lose your mother, but to no longer have the partner you dedicated your life to, i couldn't imagine the pain. i call him every morning, afternoon and night. he shares your happy stories with me, i think he'll be alright.

...

i know you always hated mother's day. you felt like you didn't deserve it, like you weren't entitled to a celebration. no matter how much we told you that we forgave you, you could never forgive yourself. you lost your mother when she was young too, and you never did seem to let it go. you missed her so much. we told you we just wouldn't be us if it wasn't for everything we'd lived through, and we owed our strength to you. i hope you finally realized how amazing you are, for loving us the way you did through everything. maybe you didn't know exactly how to 'be a mother' just yet, but you were always very proud.

Happy Mother's Day Mom. it feels so sad to say, but it was a little easier to be with you this way. it broke our hearts to watch you suffer. i wish you didn't spend so many years of your life sick and in pain. physically, emotionally.. and spiritually drained. you cried, and you worried, and you smoked your life away. and i miss you more each passing moment. but i know you have found peace.

...

we met up at your building extra early. when we called the superintendent he finally answered and said, sorry we'll be at church for the day, i was a little disappointed that we wouldn't get into your place. but it was okay. we sat in the park to look through the photos in my rucksack in the shade. it was a beautiful day, all the trees had blossoms. we picked through happy memories together.

the super called us back. him and his family decided they'd come home early, and would be there to let us in right away. we looked gently around your apartment. underneath the dust and nicotine was a perfectly preserved story of a mother's love. all the pictures on the walls were family, but for the most part every wall was us. and your art.. i loved it when you painted. you kept every christmas greeting, and each handwritten note in a big brown envelope. every rock, every postcard, every silly little gift from the dollar store. you didn't have much, but you held on to what was important. your children... your love.

...

oh and i wanted to let you know that i wished aunt Sue a Happy Mother's Day too. i told her i was sorry that it'd been so long since we last spoke, and that i was grateful for her always being there for you and me and Dan when we were younger. she too is a mother, and a proud one just like you. i made her a collage of a few photos:

the first one one in the corner is a photo you took of her and your mom. she's got that silly aunt Sue smile on, and Monna is smiling at you too. next to that one in the middle is a picture of you by the lake. anywhere with your fishing rod was always a happy place. then there's a photo of you in the driver's seat with your leather cowboy hat on. and that sunny smile... it was your first rocky mountain road trip and you savoured every moment's last drop. below that is a photo of me and my baby brother, cuddling in style. you always love it that we loved each other. and the last one there in frame is the photo of your silhouette against the sunset. it was your favourite photo of you, and how you always liked to remember yourself.


...


we love you mom, and we miss you very much. we promise to carry on your legacy of patience, acceptance, tolerance, and unconditional love. your story will transcend intolerance and indifference and inspire mothers and fathers and children and lovers to take care of one another and themselves. we will spend our sundays together and listen to all the music you left us with, and sing along with you. we won't waste any time sweating the small stuff, we'll do what we want, and we'll remember to take our time.


-xoxo