Better Because I Can Forgive Myself …

I acknowledge that for much of the first 40+ years of my life, I hid behind a really beautiful mask. I might have looked like I had it all together but, as I shared in another blog, I was suffering in silence and was a pretty conflicted soul. I deeply and desperately wanted to create a life that was not an extension of my unfavorably shattered childhood, but rather, embraced and reflected the blessings of the things I learned while growing up in that fairly unenviable environment.

I know that was my intention, but it has been a difficult and arduous task, given all the baggage I have carried with me as I tried to accomplish that formidable feat. As I look back, I must concede that under the weight of those bags, I made choices that were not in the best interests of my children or my husband or even myself for that matter.

Those choices seemed really reasonable at the time, but in retrospect, some of them proved to be anything but adaptive and beneficial. I can see now, as Gordon Neufeld  would suggest, that I was valiantly trying to “influence the verdict”.  That is, I spent much of my life twisting myself into whatever shape and/or presentation I thought was needed for people to appreciate me, accept me, and approve of me … in order to quiet my overly kindled amygdala.

I know now that this is a primal stress response called “fawning.” The sad truth is that I spent oodles of energy trying to manipulate people’s perspectives in an effort to avoid feeling rejected. And, because it worked, I had to keep doing it. It was a never ending cycle. In retrospect, I can see that all my perfecting and people-pleasing and performing and proving were simply very misguided attempts to help me feel safe.

And, as I look back on it now, I can ALSO see clearly how my father’s alcoholism was, at it’s core, a misguided attempt to numb the shame and escape the pain and heartbreaking wounds of his own very unfortunate childhood. I’m sure his choices seemed sensible to him at the time, too.  But, he often scared me.  He was unpredictably angry and emotionally volatile.  Unfortunately, he never found his way from the ‘mad’ (that typified his energy)  to the deeper truth of ‘sad’ (that was buried beneath his hardened heart)  until he was about 75 years old. It was such a gift to our relationship when he did … but … it takes courage to peek down into the most fragile, fear-filled parts of our soul. It’s necessary, though, because we can never truly ‘heal’ until we can ‘feel’ the pain beneath the anger.

And, it’s very humbling to recognize that his emotional unavailability, abandonment and neglect were no more damaging to me than my perfectionism, over-protection and overindulgence were for my own three daughters.  No one intends to hurt their children.  We simply get so caught up in our own pain that we can’t see beyond it.  If only he and I had been better able to tend to our own wounds … sooner.  We would have been so much more present to the needs of our children. 

It also becomes apparent, as I look back on it now, how tortured by guilt and shame my mom seemed to be.  I can see that see loved herself so conditionally. And, I learned to do the same. My mom really did the best she could given all her health issues, and I really felt her love for me (when she was engaged) and/or when I had outdone myself in my perpetual efforts to earn it. The problem was that she was not healthy enough (emotionally or physically) for me to count on her to predictably reassure my lovability. And, then she spent so much time in hospital … both medical and psychiatric. When I was in foster care, I was always working to ensure they would appreciate and accept me. And since I had very little contact with my Dad after they divorced, I honestly felt very much on my own … far too often.

As Neufeld wisely theorizes, the most healthy relationships are hierarchical in nature.  You have someone assuming the alpha role of ‘taking charge’ and ‘taking care of things’ … and then you have those who are being cared for … assuming the more dependent role.  Usually, it is our parents who assume the alpha, care-giving role. Unfortunately, because of my mom’s ill health, I often ended up taking charge of things that often felt way to big to handle. I ended up learning how to take care of myself instead of simply being able to trust that I could lean in and someone would be there to care for me and meet my needs.

As I reflect upon it now, I can see that sometimes I still ache for something Neufeld calls “Alpha Love”.  When you are in the presence of a strong alpha love, you feel safe, protected, cared for and looked after.  You trust your needs will be met.  And in that space of trust, you can ‘rest’ in the presence of predictable and reliable care-giving … you can quit ‘working’ for love. You don’t feel like you have to ‘earn’ enough love to ‘feel’ safe. You don’t feel like you are in charge of the well-being of the relationship.  In the presence of alpha love, you can just lean in and simply rest in the certainty that even if there are bumps in the road, … you will still be safe, loved and cared for at the deepest level.

In hindsight, I can see that I parented my children by giving them what I most needed rather than what they most needed. I didn’t have anywhere to lean in as a child … so …  I was very alpha with them.  Probably too much so. I not only protected, but I rescued. I think I sometimes even smothered my children in my fervent efforts to keep them safe and sound. Gah.

I’m alpha by default.  I take care of people … I take charge of things. I look after whatever needs to be tended to. I even get paid to be alpha.  I became  a counsellor/therapist because I really want to support people. The only one I haven’t taken the best care of is me.  Sadly, I have unwittingly perpetuated the pattern established in my past.  I have often neglected and abandoned myself in an effort to ensure that I don’t abandon others.

And sadly, although I hate to admit it out loud … I think it is fair to say that I have not historically trusted that people would take care of me.  So, until I did some deep healing, I rarely expressed my needs or asked for help.  And, when and if I do so now,  I sometimes have trouble resting in the certainty that people won’t drop the ball.  My anxious mind falls back into old patterns and gets concerned that if I lean in too far … no one will be there to catch me.  Those old neural networks of insecurity don’t take much to get re-activated.

It has taken me many years to discover that working on my own issues is the most loving and caring thing I could ever do for my family. And, I have been actively committed to my own healing for the last 20+ years. And, as a result of that, I have chosen to forgive myself for dragging my own sweet cherubs through so much because of my unhealed issues. I simply couldn’t see how I was bruising them along the way any more than my parents could see what their pain was doing to me. It’s so humbling to recognize that I, too, have caused my children the kind of distress I had trouble forgiving my parents for inflicting upon me.

And, through all my own healing, I have arrived at a place where I honestly forgive my parents … and … I honestly forgive me. We were simply doing the best we could at the time. I have humbly offered my sincerest apologies to my children and have let go of all regret that it could have been different. As Maya Angelou says, “When you know better, you do better.”

I could not see how I could only truly love them when I truly loved me.  And, I could only truly love myself when I could stop my chronic efforts to earn love, approval and appreciation. Because … it is only when love feels un-instigated by ourselves that we can actually let it land in our hearts. One of the most transformational lessons that I have integrated as part of my healing journey is that love is not something we should need to work for … ever. Rather, it is something to be welcomed, received and savored.

With deepest gratitude for the shifts in my vision,  🧡 Karen 🧡

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All our Lives are Better Because of our Laudable Leah!

I started this blogsite with the intention of honoring the people in my circle for the ways in which my world was a better place because of them.  And, for the most part, I have acknowledged friends, family and colleagues.  The person I have chosen to honor today was an acquaintance of mine for many years.  We weren’t ‘friends’ … but we had a few mutual friends and our paths intersected occasionally because we both lived in a very small town.

I recall one of the first times we rubbed shoulders was several decades ago when a group of us went out carolling around our tiny town at Christmas time.  I was belting out my best rendition of “Jingle Bells” or “Joy to the World” or whatever the song happened to be when she turned around to identify the ‘songstress’ behind her. I could see by the slightly quizzical look on her beautiful face that her finely tuned ears were detecting the err in my tone and pitch! Ha ha. It didn’t even hurt my feelings … because although I am good at a fair number of things … singing is certainly not one of them. 🙄

That said … she had an exceptional ear for music … and singing is certainly one of her gifts.  Just one of her MANY gifts!  Whether she be the lead singer in a band … acting on stage … directing a play  … strumming on a guitar … mothering her three cherubs … teaching music to preschoolers … or … becoming the queen of selfies  …  Leah Meier always lights up the space around her with her ready laugh and lighthearted spirit!  And, over the years, I am grateful to say I have had the opportunity to become more and more acquainted with the luminous light that is Leah! There are rare individuals that you want in your circle and Leah is definitely one of them. I am so glad that, now, I get to call her my ‘friend’.

And, it’s been a gift to invited deeper into her inner circle. It has been nothing short of magnificent to watch this tribe of women who continue to inspire me with the ways in which they show up for each other … and … in the world. They have been through so much together, but very recently, something unthinkable happened.

On June 19th, 2018, Leah was diagnosed with colorectal cancer with metastasis to her liver and possibly her lungs.  Yes. Cancer. Stage IV.  And, while many of us would fold inward with such a devastating diagnosis, that is not how Leah chose to respond. No. As she shared:

Being an active, otherwise healthy individual, my team of doctors and family opted for an aggressive treatment plan. I was to start six rounds of three different chemotherapy medications immediately. Thankfully I was able to receive my treatments at the Jack Ady Cancer Center in Lethbridge.

After the fifth round of chemotherapy I had another MRI. Great News! The spots on my lungs were cysts and the remaining four suspected metastases had shrunk considerably and one was likely just a cyst. I was able to undergo just one surgery on November 9, 2018, for both my colon and liver! I recovered from surgery with no complications and started my next round of chemotherapy just four and a half weeks after surgery. Everything that needed to happen has happened and it appears that I have had a complete radiological response to treatment in my liver and the colon tumour was removed with incredibly good margins!

Now … most folks would simply be grateful for an encouraging outcome.  No. Not Leah. She rallied her tribe and decided that once she was well enough, she was going to use this tragic situation as a way to serve the greatest good.  And that is exactly what she did!  She signed up to participate in the Ride to Conquer Cancer. And, as she shared in her public bio:

I was told that as recently as five years ago, my prognosis and treatment options would have been very different and a path for cure would not have been likely. My life has been impacted, likely saved, due to very recent cancer therapy advancements! I’m able to receive treatments at the Jack Ady Care Facility in Lethbridge instead of having to drive three hours to Calgary. I’ve sat in comfy chemo chairs, been covered in warm blankets and received incredible care from an outstanding team of doctors, nurses and staff in both Lethbridge and Calgary.

The Ride To Conquer Cancer helps fund all of the above and so much more! The money raised stays in our province and truly makes a difference to those of us having to face this horrible disease.

I had my last chemotherapy on February 20, 2019, and am so excited to be starting on my journey toward renewed health, strength and experiences that await me in my life!

THANK YOU for considering a donation, whatever the size. Every dollar you donate means a dollar more towards conquering cancer!

The tag line for this annual event is:

“BE EPIC.  Two days. Over 200kms. Conquer Cancer”  

And, as if training for the 200km ride was was not enough for her to shoulder … not long after Leah finished her chemo treatments … she decided to create an additional Fundraiser!  Within no time at all, she had sold out the tickets for this fabulous dinner, dance and a silent auction! She was committed to raising as much money as she possibly could for cancer research. And, true to form, she marked the evening with one of her trademark selfies!

Just look at all the people who turned out to support this amazing soul! And, the retired band in which she had been a lead singer, offered to come together again and play the music so we could dance up a storm!  And … Leah graced us with her sensational songbird skills! It was such a remarkable evening!!

And, I know that training for this ride … after all the cancer treatments she had been through … was grueling!  But … she not only trained hard herself, but she invited others to join “Team Leah”.  And, she rallied together a most fabulous team!

And her efforts were an enormous success … nothing short of EPIC indeed!  She has always been known for inspiring so many with her bright light ..and … this was no different. As her best friend Angie shared on Facebook on August 18th:

What a weekend…..what a ride….. Feeling so blessed! Leah you are and always have been my HERO!! There is nothing you can’t and won’t do once your mind is made up. This was a huge undertaking and my friend you know very well that I thought you were nuts🤪But you kept reassuring me that you could and would do this and you did. 12 rounds of very aggressive chemo, a major surgery and recovery…. No wait….straight to training for a 200 km Ride To Conquer Cancer. I will never doubt you again ever😜 You are a force to be reckoned with …and I am so blessed to call you my best friend, soul sista and my Rock! So very very proud of my Husband…. Maria, Sydney, Nicki, Shelah, Ryan, Jill, Chris you guys slayed this ride!! #Enbridge Ride To Conquer Cancer #rideab #dontstopbelieving🧡💛💚♥️🚴🚴‍♀️🚴‍♂️

And, it was really something to behold. As Leah, herself, shared in a Facebook post on August 20, 2019:

WE DID IT!!! From start to finish this has been the most amazing experience!!! ❤️🚴‍♀️🙏 A HUGE Thank you to everyone who donated to our ride!!! Together we raised $51,333.68 which put Team Leah 18th out of 167 teams for most money raised and this year’s ride totalled $5.9 MILLION!!! HOW COOL IS THAT!?!?! 🚴‍♀️😃 Crossing the finish line with so many family and friends there to cheer us on was honestly one of the most joyous moments of my life!! I am beyond grateful to all of you who have embraced me my family and my team and supported us through it all!! ❤️🚴‍

EPIC! Absolutely epic. And so … through it all, I was left entirely amazed, awed and inspired by the force of light that is Leah! Her lively, light-hearted luminosity goes way beyond description. I also want to take this moment to thank Leah for her endless gifts of courage and compassion and caring!  Her efforts already have and will continue to benefit so many others who are diagnosed with cancer. 

As I shared with her in a private Facebook Message:

Good Morning Leah!
I hope this little note finds you basking in the after glow of your tremendously successful achievements! I can’t even begin to put into words how I aspired I am by your infinite capacity to take a personal challenge and create a movement of benevolence that benefits all of mankind. You are an exceptional soul and I am so grateful to call you my friend! Sending you biggest hugs of deepest admiration, respect and love for the miracle of YOU!

I wish I could tell you that Leah’s story ended on that positive note … but … it did not. I had learned from a mutual friend that Leah’s husband had been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I was so troubled to hear the news that I sent off another message on January 17th over Facebook to let her know that I was thinking of her. I was shocked to learn that things had taken even more unexpected turns when she responded to my invitation to get together for coffee or wine by saying:

Just wondering if you know I’m in Calgary this weekend? Had lung surgery on Thursday.

Good grief!  No. I was not aware of that! I knew that the doctors had detected some dark spots on her liver and on her lungs when they initially discovered her cancer, but I was not aware that she had already undergone surgery on one of her lungs. She updated us on a few days later with some good news:

Hi!! Surgery went well!!He was able to get all three spots with wedge resections and Thoroscopic. Loss of only about 10% vs 25-30% with the lobectomy he might have had to do. I’m already home and now anxiously await pathology. I should hear in next 7-10 days. I’m able to manage pain with very small dose of morphine combined with alternating Tylenol and Advil. First hurdle. I hope we get to see each other soon my friend!! …

And sadly, the pathology report confirmed that she would require surgery on the other lung as well. Not the news she wanted to hear. We were finally able to have a much awaited visit and a glass of wine on March 3 at 3:00pm. It was then that I learned the extent of all that she had been enduring … her step brother had died as well.  And, if that wasn’t enough, Covid-19 was added to the mix and all elective surgeries were postponed because hospitals were preparing for the influx of people who might need medical supports to survive coronavirus. 

And then Leah learned that her surgeon was in mandatory isolation because he had been travelling. As a result, she had a big decision to make. She opted to put her faith in her surgeon’s colleague and have him perform the operation instead. She said she was nervous, but felt it was the right decision.

I was, once again, left in awe of Leah’s capacity to resiliently roll with whatever life tossed in her path. And, it was incredible to watch her courageously lean into all the uncertainties with courage and hope and faith. I knew that the risks she was facing included the potential for compromised capacity for mobility and singing and living a full life because some of her lung needed to be removed. She pushed forward. Her surgery was on March 23rd and she came home on March 26th because they wanted to get her out of the hospital to reduce her risk of contracting Covid-19.  On March 30th, I received this exciting message from her saying:

Good Morning!! One week cancer free!!!!  Could it be!?!?

I could feel the joy and healing and well-being in her spirit!  I could not even fathom the liberation she must be feeling … because for the first time in a couple of years … she might get to abide in that bliss-filled space of being ‘cancer free’. 

We also had a long conversation on another morning. It was beautiful to connect and hear how she was finding her way through her own healing journey … with the full knowledge that she was also preparing for another journey with her husband. Her hubby’s surgery was scheduled for May 14th, and because of Covid-19, it was determined that he would not be allowed to have anyone with him. Seriously! This was their truth …

I tried to imagine what it would be like to be going through such a tentative time with no one by your side. I tried to imagine what it would be like to have your loved one going through such adversity and not to be able to lay your eyes upon them to reassure yourself of their well being.  I wished I could reach out with some supportive sentiments, but I found no words. Nothing seemed like the right thing to utter. It’s so hard to know what on earth to say when people are going through hellish times. All I could do was send love and light through the ethers … and … hope that they could feel it. Her hubby found his way home shortly after his surgery. There were some bumpy patches, but slowly they found their way through it all together. 

And then guess what happened??  Leah decided it was time to ride again in 2020!! Once again … I was in complete awe of her  capacity to pick herself up and move forward with a firm resolve.  One morning when Leah and I were chatting over the phone while having our morning coffee, I was sharing how inspired I was by her willingness to ride again … and … lamenting that I would not be able to support her by joining Team Leah because … as I emphatically indicated to her … I absolutely detest bike riding. Although, I love, love, love to walk … and … while I make it a regular practice to log oodles of kilometers with my Bestie (Marie) … for countless reasons, not even this noble cause could get my head in a helmet and my buttocks onto one of those hard seats for 200kms. Nope. Nada. Not this girl. 

My resistance did not deter Leah in the least. I could hear her voice light right up when she said, “Well, you could walk it then. You and Marie could join the team and walk 100 kms.”  Well now … she had a point. 

This option seemed absolutely thrilling to me!!  My Bestie and I had actually committed to walking the Road to Santiago (aka the ‘Camino’ trail)  in Spain in September of 2020.  It is a highly travelled route that is almost 1000kms in it’s entirety for spiritual seekers who venture out on these remarkable ‘pilgrimages’.  Anyway, my Bestie and I were booked to complete the final 100km leg of the pilgrimage. Our flights and accommodations had been reserved. I had purchased a special day pack and new walking shoes. We were so excited! And then …. Covid-19 dashed all those plans.

And so, when Leah suggested that we walk 100kms for Cancer … it felt absolutely right. So guess who jumped at the chance to join Team Leah?  Yep!!  Me and my Bestie!!  With this decision, we still had an opportunity to complete our 100km pilgrimage. We just altered the locale to suit this particular moment in our collective history … and … our personal intention to support Leah’s personal journey.  We affectionately called it our “Covid Camino for Cancer.”  We already walked regularly so we wanted to stretch ourselves a bit to make sure that our efforts on behalf of the Ride to Conquer Cancer were challenging us enough. To that end, we committed to walk at least 20kms per day over five days.

And that is exactly what we did!  It was such an honor to join Team Leah 2020 and raise some funds for cancer research. We logged just over 100 kilometers along a variety of different routes … and … felt incredibly humbled by the whole experience.

 

Yes. It was an absolute honor to join Team Leah. It remains an absolute honor to be connected to the EPIC energy of Leah  … she is such a lively, lovely and laudable lightworker! I actually started writing this blog in honor of Leah a couple of years ago. I wanted to honor her journey and express to her (and all those who might read this tribute) how I continue to be inspired not just by what she does and by how she does it, but also by who she is! Her being-ness is so rare and exceptional.

Did I mention that she is now planning to bring her team together to bring the musical Chicago to life at a local theater  in 2022?  I could hear all her enthusiasm and excitement as she described it:

“Roaring 20’s show in this decades post virus roaring 20’s”

Yes. Her presence on the planet is such a rare gift. Our collective human existence is infinitely better because Leah has consciously chosen to ensure that it is. So many people have and will continue to benefit from the fruits of her labors. I worried as I penned this blog that I couldn’t possibly honor all the brightness of Leah sufficiently, but I wanted to offer this reflection of my experience to really celebrate her … and … to publicly acknowledge and recognize all that she is and all that she does. 

I wish I could say that the challenges for Leah ended with this tribute here … in complete celebration of her and her victorious win in the battle with cancer. I wish we could wrap things up on such a high note. But, unfortunately, we cannot do that just yet. There is more to Leah’s story.

After almost three years, and just when Leah thought she might finally be able to focus her gaze beyond fighting for the cure … she got some more dark and unwelcome news.  In one of her check-ups, they detected another spot on one of her lungs.  It is deep in her lung so she’ll need to have a lobectomy instead of the wedge resection like she had last time. Gah. They might not be able to do it laparoscopically … which means a much longer recovery. They first had to biopsy a lymph node that showed up on her pet scan. Fortunately … it appears to be no cause for concern. Whew.

And while we breathe a sigh of relief with that news … it is sobering to consider that losing half of her lung in the next surgery is the good news! Can you imagine finding yourself in that frame of reference? And yet, one of the things that has always amazed me about Leah is her ability to keep her wits about her despite the circumstances. While I know that she is deeply impacted by all the things that continue to challenge her path, I am reminded of an exchange we had way back on April 15, 2020. I received this private message from her:

This morning as I’m hanging laundry and struggling to catch my breath and thinking about strategies to continue to move towards healing, etc.

I asked God “How many times do I need to pick myself up off the ground!!?? ”

I instantly heard loud and clear… “As many times as it takes”

Pretty simple really…

Simple … and yet … certainly not easy. I just recently had another conversation with Leah. We were chatting about this long arduous journey that had befallen her. In the middle of it … she offhandedly said “Maybe I should take my own advice?” She had been expressing some frustration with having to deal with something “again” … and that is when she reminded herself that she would just needed to address it “as many times as it takes”.

Leah’s next surgery is scheduled for Monday … March 8th. She will be ‘checking in’ at 5:00am and the surgery is scheduled to start at 7:30am. I am hoping all of you reading this will join us as we hold her close in heart … and … help flood the ethers by sending much good juju and healing energy in her direction. Please join us in offering a prayer for a swift and successful surgery. May we also collectively invite the Universe to afford her a speedy and miraculously comfortable recovery. She has done so much for the benefit of others … and … I would like her to know that we are all holding her energetically in optimal health, effortless healing and complete recovery.

May we join her in spirit as she once again rises above the situation that has darkened her path … and … may we collectively reify her tenacity to triumph and thrive, once again, despite this unwelcome twist. Due to Covid-19 she may need to face this surgery all alone in the hospital. I am hoping that we can send so much love and support through the ethers that even if she isn’t allowed to have anyone by her side in the flesh … she will not feel alone … because she will be palpably wrapped up in our energetic presence!!

And with this surgery, Leah … I know if anyone can glow through all of this … it is YOU! And, I just want to remind you that each and every one of us reading this here is fanning the flames of your well-being … and … waiting to celebrate your swift recovery with you!!

Wrapping you with so much love and looking so very forward to our next chat … 🧡 Karen 🧡

Better Because You Spared Me …

Do you suppose this is true?? I am purposely pondering this possibility because … I don’t even know the man.  I do know who he is, though. And because we have lived in the same small, rural community for the past quarter of a century, I have seen him out and about every now and again. That said, I don’t think we have ever spoken to one another.

Well … that is not really true.  I did have some very brief engagements over the telephone with him about 30 years ago, in the form of requests … but certainly not enough connection to confirm any sense of familiarity with the man. I did sense, however, that the last time we spoke on the phone he was somewhat frustrated with me.

Most perplexingly, though … over the summer months in 2019 … our paths seemed to crossing with increased frequency. So much so that it had registered on my radar as ‘odd’.  I even started to consciously question why on earth I was seeing this man so often??  And then … one day when I was out walking with my Bestie … there he was again!  We wandered past him in the large empty parking lot of the Community Centre that we were cutting through on our walk. He was on his phone … not a single car or other person in the vicinity. Huh??

We started chatting about whether or not these chance encounters meant ‘something’  and/or whether the Universe was tossing him onto my path for some reason.  And, because my best friend and I are both INFJ (on the Myers-Briggs Personality Indicator)  we love nothing more than to overthink and overanalyse things. We are quick to explore any and all topics with endless enthusiasm … and … from absolutely every possible angle and/or perspective. And so, this conversation was no exception as we thoroughly scrutinized the various beliefs we were aware of that were publicly posited about the nature of coincidence and synchronicity.

As my Bestie and I considered whether these encounters were, in fact, trying to bring my attention to a particular facet of my life, I recalled that this man was the Property Manager of a subsidized housing complex that my ailing mother inhabited three decades ago.  Way back then … and half my lifetime ago … I was 31 years old and lived on a farm in a tiny town about 30 kilometers (20 miles)  from my Mom’s place with my husband and three small daughters. Due to the geographical distance between her and I, it was difficult for me to see her or check-in on her in person as often as I would have preferred.

You should know that my mom’s well-being was always a source of concern for me because for all of my life (and I do mean all of it)  she experienced ill health. She had struggled with debilitating sciatic pain for the bulk of her existence despite numerous unsuccessful medical interventions and invasive surgeries attempted to relieve her pain. I was only nine months old when she underwent her first major surgery. She was returned to me in a hard, cold body cast … but the pain continued. I remember that Darvon and Valium were very critical mainstays in her existence. She even opted to endure an intrusive brain cordotomy in my late twenties that I can’t be sure ever dulled the pain, but … she came home using a wheelchair.

She also had a hereditary disease called Gardner’s Syndrome that caused polyps/tumors to grow in her intestinal tract. They had a risk of being malignant but could also be benign. Nonetheless, these growths would often lead to painful blockages. She vomited often. There was always a plastic bowl tucked under her bed in case her stomach got upset. Ultimately, they had to remove a large part of her colon and she lived with a colostomy bag afterwards. And, if that wasn’t enough, she had also been diagnosed with breast cancer and endured a double mastectomy.

Along the way, she had also been diagnosed with manic-depression (which is now known as Bipolar Disorder). Unfortunately, the various psychotropic medications they used way back in the day were not nearly as effective and led to all manner of side effects for my Mom. It often seemed to me that they did more harm than good. And, although it feels less than flattering to admit … as a result of all her physical and emotional challenges, she was consuming so many pain medications and mood altering pharmaceuticals that her capacity to engage competently and soberly in the world was often compromised.  Through it all, she spent a whole lot of time in hospitals … both medical and psychiatric.

My mom was not one to complain though. I think she down-played how awful she felt in an attempt to spare me and minimize my worry. She isolated herself quite often. She spent many days/weeks/months alone in her bedroom. She said she preferred to be by herself when she was ailing. And as a result, it was really hard to determine just how poorly she was actually feeling. And so … I worried a whole lot about her. Some days were better than others, but my anxious mind rarely set her down. She did her very best to take care of me. She really did. And, all things considered, she did a pretty remarkable job. It’s just that her physical and psychological capacity was so compromised that I had to learn how to take care of me … as well as her … in many ways.

When I got married at 19 and moved out of the house, I tried to stay in regular contact with her by telephone. Unfortunately, sometimes she didn’t answer. Sleep was unpredictable and elusive for her due to chronic and debilitating pain and when she thought she could get some rest, she would turn the ringer off the phone so as not to be disturbed. If I got no answer, I would assume she was catching some much needed shut eye, leave a message and wait to hear back from her. It was an ongoing pattern that had become part of our routine.  And so, if a couple of days had gone by and I had not received a call back from her, I would just try to squelch my concerns until I had the opportunity to check-in on her in person. And, because I was an only child, there was no one else to ask for help in tending to her. It all fell on me.

The truth was that by the time I had three children of my own, I was stretched too far and too thin to be as attentive as I wish I could have been. And so … I vacillated between feeling guilty for my absence and resentful for the unrelenting worry that was ever present during those in-between times.

Source Unknown

And when I would check-in on her,  it was rare for me to find her in any really emergent situation. However, I do remember a time when I arrived to find that she had fallen and was unable to get up.  There was an odd occasion when I discovered her to be so ill that she needed hospitalization. More frequently, there were times when I came upon her in a highly sedated and/or compromised state of mind. Yes. Sometimes she took too much medication. I never knew if it was on purpose or by accident. Suffice to say, there was just never any way to be sure how she would be when I got there.

For a time she had lived in an extended care facility.  This was such a huge relief for me because I knew someone was always watching out for her. But … she absolutely HATED it there! She despised sharing a room with someone else and begged for us to let her move out.  And so, although it against my better judgment for her to be living alone, we reluctantly honored her preference. And then … it was all on me again. Gah.

source unknown

And, since it was a 60km round trip for me to look in on her in person, it occurred to me that I might be able to ask the property manager to stop in, on rare occasion, when my worries escalated and I couldn’t find a way to get there in a timely fashion myself. And so, I found myself calling him on a few occasions. Maybe three?? I can’t really remember, but I know I always apologized profusely for troubling him. I tried to explain that my request was fostered by my heartfelt concern for my Mom. The first couple of times he checked on her, she called me back apologetically. I could hear in her voice that she was embarrassed and expressed sincere regret for causing me such worry. And, although I felt guilty for inconveniencing him unnecessarily, it was such a relief to be reassured that she was okay.

I believe the last time I called him … was a couple of days after Christmas in 1989.  She had phoned our house at about 2:00am on December 25th to tell us that we need not pick her up to celebrate Christmas because she was not well enough to come out to the farm.  It wasn’t at all unusual for her to call and beg off attending functions because she felt ill. It was, however, a bit unusual for her to call in the middle of the night … but my husband had answered the phone … so I hadn’t actually spoken with her myself. I was reasoning to myself that she must have lost track of time or had taken some meds and was hoping she would finally fall asleep.  There were also occasions that she really gave it her best attempt to attend, but then by they time she got to our house she’d need to concede that she wasn’t really up for it after all … and we’d have to turn around take her back home again right away.

My mom was on my mind as I tried to stay present to the squeals of delight and joy in my daughters eyes as they tore at the wrapping on their Christmas gifts. I tried to call her once the sun was up, but got no answer.  I tried to call her a little later during the day. Still … no answer. This wasn’t entirely unusual, so I tried to call her again on Boxing Day.  No answer. And then, as my worries intensified, I dared to call the Property Manager again. I apologized profusely once more … but humbly asked if he might spare me the 60km round trip and check on her for me. I could sense his frustration … and honestly … I completely understood it. He’d been there a couple times before … for no reason. He was probably trying to enjoy the Holiday season with his own family, but … he was kind enough to agree to check on her when he had a chance.

And then … I waited. I was trying to be patient, but my Mom never called me back and neither did the Property Manager. I questioned whether he maybe hadn’t found the opportunity to check on her yet. I really didn’t want to pester him during the Holidays by calling again. I was really looking forward to a commitment I had to go out of town that day … the 27th of December. It was a rare treat for me to go anywhere without my three little girls in tow, and I had plans with a girlfriend and would be leaving my hubby at home with my daughters. We didn’t have cell phones way back then, so I was reassuring myself that my hubby would be getting the call while I was out … confirming that all was well … just like all the other times that Mom had rallied back from some really bad days.

And, while I was out, my husband finally did hear back.  Yes. The RCMP arrived at our door to inform us that she was, in fact, not fine. No. She had really and truly … died. I had braced myself for her passing on prior occasions when things seemed really dire … and … if the truth was to be fully told … I had also wished for an end to her suffering on more than one occasion. So, I am not sure why I felt so blindsided by the news … except that she had always escaped death  … until then.

I swallowed hard. I sat up in the night with tear-filled blurry eyes watching the mini-lights twinkle on the Christmas tree in the darkness … silently trying to figure out how to tell my young daughters that their Gram was gone. They were just nine, seven and almost three at the time.

And then, somewhere in the midst of it all, there was a part of me that was deeply relieved. For both me and her. There was a part of me that sighed a breath of surrender, knowing that she was no longer suffering in a bedroom all by herself … and … that I would no longer be anxiously waiting for call backs. The autopsy suggested she likely died within 24 hours after she called our house. I have always secretly wondered if she had a premonition that night that ‘this was it’. Maybe that is why is she called at 2:00am? Or … maybe she thought she’d rally back again from this bad spell too? It’s one of the many things I will never get to know …

I’ve had to battle the guilt that rears up and says I would have sensed the situation was exceptionally dire if I had spoken to her myself when she called.  There is a part of me that blames myself … maybe I might have cued into the gravity of the situation if I had heard her with my own ears?  It’s not that I am blaming my husband. No, I’m not … but it has been a challenge to manage the self-blame and regret that I didn’t get up and call her back, right then and there at 2:00am on December 25th, 1989.

Because we didn’t find out that Mom was gone until Dec 27th, there was some urgency for me to go through all her things and empty her apartment and clean it all up so that management could rent it out to the next person on the wait-list for January 1990.  It was really rough. There was no time for mourning.  No opportunity to feel into the grief. My head took over and my heart was silenced. You just do what you have to do, don’t you? Fortunately, three of our friends rallied to help us collect all her things and clear her suite. I owe a deep sense of gratitude to one of our friends for thinking to strip the bedding … to clear the space where she actually took her last breath. He spared me. It would have been excruciating to tackle that myself.  And, I am also indebted to another of our friends for offering to go through her purses for me. He spared me the horror of needing to face that unfathomable reality so soon. Yes. They spared me some of the hardest bits and my heart has always been eternally grateful to them.

We laid my Mom to rest on Saturday, December 30th. It was a very small group. Forty three people joined us at 11:00am to honor the life of my Mom. My little girls were so saddened that Gram didn’t get to open our Christmas presents for her that year so, we tucked all her gifts into the casket. I’m not sure why, but it still makes me weep when I think about it. I worried that losing their grandmother during Christmas might taint the joys of the Season in the future for my impressionable daughters … so I asked the Clergy to invite my little girls to see ever-green trees as reminders of their Gram’s ever-present love for them.

I really didn’t want the grievous loss to overshadow the celebrations of the Season for my daughters, so the day after the funeral, a group of our very closest friends offered to help us ring in the New Year.  They committed themselves to help us look towards the future rather than get lost in the recent past. I will be ever grateful to all of them for that. Unfortunately, however, the typical greeting right after Christmas is always: “Happy New Year! How was your Christmas?”  Gah. I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable by speaking directly to the truth … so I quickly learned to sidestep their enthusiastic curiosity by saying something like “It wasn’t what we expected. How about you? ”  I instinctively tried to turn the conversation away from our loss. And, as a result, there seemed to be no appropriate time to sit with my pain.

Much of that time remains a blur. And, as I said, there was little time to mourn. So much had transpired in roughly a week or two, albeit with some really long days. And, ultimately, my grieving continued to be shuttered and stalled and silenced in order to spare my little daughters from worrying about their own momma’s well-being. I knew, too well, what it felt like to be saddled with worry about your mother … so I distracted myself and stuffed my feelings until I could take my grief out for a walk and spill my tears behind some sunglasses.

And then, even as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months and people had heard about what happened … it still wasn’t discussed. I’m not even sure if I ever found the space or gave myself permission to feel all the feels that were really needed to fully honor the loss of my Mom.  I’m recognizing as I write this that I am actually just getting present to some of them now. Yes. As I pen this blog, I notice an emotional ache rising within me that I didn’t even know was there.

And perhaps that is why it never even occurred to me until I was walking with my Bestie that the Property Manager had also spared me from the biggest traumatic experience of them all. I can’t know for sure because I have never spoken to him, but I am guessing that he was the one who discovered my Mom’s lifeless body. And, I hate to admit it, but in the avoidance of all things related to her death, it had never even occurred to me that this could very likely have been a very traumatic experience for him. Gah.

As my Bestie and I logged more kilometers along our path that day, my heart swelled open to this man and the way he had spared me the additional trauma of finding my mom’s corpse. I am not sure how I would have fared in life … if … I had  been the one to discover my mom’s lifeless body. It makes me shudder at the mere thought of it.

Of course, I can’t know what the experience was like for the Property Manager.  At the very least, I expect my call changed the trajectory of his Holiday Season too. And, at the worst, I realize that I obliviously set him up for a potentially traumatic discovery. And, I am praying that he has not carried scars of his own as a result of this. And, as I was awakened to this new perspective, I felt a sense of shame-filled curiosity about how on earth this awareness could have escaped me for almost three decades!?!

As my Bestie and I talked about all of it, I began to think about all the times I had crossed his path and never spoken to him. We wondered aloud about whether or not he knows it was me who made those calls to him so long ago. If so, I find myself questioning whether he thinks it odd, too, that we have never discussed this epic event …

I owe my deepest gratitude to this man … this man who I do not know … this man that I have not spoken to for almost 30 years.  While I have been awakened to how deeply appreciative I feel for his kindness in heeding my call for help, I am also realizing I owe him an apology. I am so deeply sorry for any personal distress or emotional disturbance he may have been forced to endure as a result of honoring my request.

Yes. This awareness lands very uncomfortably in my soul.  Perhaps this is why the Universe was persistent in placing us before each other?  I cannot be sure of that … but I am very clear that I have some unfinished business with the Property Manager. At the risk of repeating myself, he was clearly a gift offered to protect me and spare me significant trauma.  I owe it to him to express my appreciation along with my regret for not doing so earlier … as well as my compassion for what he might have experienced as a result of my request.

This Christmas marks the 30th anniversary of my mom’s passing. Thirty years! I found myself thinking that the next time we cross paths, I should approach him with my new found insight and empathy.  I even found myself questioning whether it might be wiser to simply orchestrate a time to meet him so I might express both my gratitude and my regret. I knew I must not waste any more minutes, days, weeks, years or decades before honoring all of this. Honoring the man who spared me, honoring the friends who supported me … and … honoring the woman that birthed me.

And, this blog has taken me to places in my grief that I never expected to visit. I find myself wondering if I ever really knew my Mom? I wonder what the hardest parts of her life were? Was it her five miscarriages? Was it her lost connection with family due to Estate issues? Was it losing her marriage in an effort to invite my Dad to embrace sobriety? How did the deaths of four of her six siblings impact her? I wonder about where she got her resilience? I wonder what kept her fighting for a life that was so filled with suffering? And because she never complained, I question whether all of her unspoken and internalized suffering simply exacerbated her ill health?  I am left with so many questions about this remarkable soul … my loving Mom.

And so … I started this blog out of my curiosity about whether my chance meetings with the Property Manager were random.  And with each word, I have become acutely aware that were it not for the ‘chance’ meetings of that man that I do not know, I may never have taken this opportunity to honor all the things left unspoken … both with him and with my relationship with my mom.

It appears that those coincidental meetings have sparked some additional healing for me because they inspired these ramblings. Writing always help me get clear about what I am thinking and feeling, but I would never have expected that what started as an exploration about synchronicity would touch tenderly into the ache of a grief/loss that has been largely disregarded for almost thirty years. And so, it appears the Property Manager has spared me once again. As a result of these reflections, I will not be carrying my unspoken and unreconciled grief for another 30 years.

And so, with this blog, the need for me to speak to him landed more and more loudly in my awareness … even though I had no sense of how that would happen. And, coincidentally (or not?), I had no sooner come to what I thought was the completion of this blog, when I unexpectedly crossed paths with the Property Manager again at a community event!

I immediately thought … here’s my chance … the Universe is orchestrating an opportunity for me to speak to him right here and now. I was tempted to ask him if I could have a few minutes of his time after the presentation was complete. But then … it occurred to me that it might not be wise to unexpectedly blindside him with all of this at a public function. It occurred to me that standing before him with my both my apology and my appreciation might put him in an uncomfortable position … and/or … stir up some unwelcome memories. So, I opted not to say anything to him then. I decided, instead, that I would email him this blog instead. And that is exactly what I am going to do once I publish this.

It is my hope that my sentiments will be welcomed and received by the Property Manager with the benevolent energy within which they are offered. And, it is also my hope that by honoring and acknowledging all of this, I will be able to honor the 30th anniversary of my Mom’s death in just a few weeks with some additional peace and resolution in my own heart.

I would like nothing more than to think that perhaps these synchronicities and the heartfelt reflections I have offered in this blog could be a gift that was divinely inspired for both of us. Perhaps a welcome exchange for both of us. Fingers crossed …

With gratitude for the gifts in all this awareness … with gratitude for the space created to honor all that has not yet been spoken … and … with deepest gratitude for all the many ways I have been spared … Karen

 

 

 

Better Because of your Shining Spirit Kori!

My first introduction to the sweetness of Kori’s spirit was not even in person.  Although we had never before met … many, many years ago when I was in charge of soliciting donations for something … she voluntarily dropped off a donation for our cause. Who does that?? Unsolicited?  I suspected, in that moment, that she was a very special soul.  It would be a few years before I would actually get to meet her … and have my suspicions confirmed … in the flesh.

And she did not disappoint.  She joined a book study that I was leading at the time.  The sparkle from her brilliant internal flame lit up the room.  Her eyes twinkled with kindness. Her smile welcomed your heart.  Her quick wit brought on the belly laughs … when you least expected them. Yes. The vibrancy of Kori’s spirit is very visible.

We were studying a book by Byron Katie called … “Loving What Is”.  I find myself wondering how hard it must be to stand in that  frame of reference for her now … with all that has transpired in her world.  At that time, we could never have expected the turn of events that Kori would be invited to endure.

It turned out that we got to work together a few years later … and … we did so for quite a number of years.  We were not in the same department, but we were employed by the same agency.  As a result, sometimes we meet for lunch to ensure we get to connect with each other every now and again. She’s the kind of person you want in your circle. Yes. She just shines.  And … she invites every one in her presence to shine too.

Oh … and were it not for Kori … I would never have visited “Carl” at “The Divine Mine.”  Carl is a medium who reads your cards and I have thoroughly enjoyed meeting with him on a couple of occasions. It’s always interesting to have someone tell you things that other people aren’t supposed to know about your personal lives.  Yes … my daughters and I, along with my Bestie and I have enjoyed some time with Carl because of Kori! I now find myself questioning whether Carl had any inkling of what was in the cards for Kori …………

I’m not sure anyone could have anticipated what was about to unfold on that seemingly regular Tuesday. We were all together attending a computer training … and another of our remarkable colleagues, Jackie, had generously offered to have us over to her home so we could sit in the sunshine and enjoy our bagged lunches outdoors in her yard.  Some of us never arrived.

Five or six of us were walking just out of the building when it happened. Our beautiful Kori was walking between Kimmy and I when she fell. Toppled right over beside us. Usually when someone falls … they are flailing about … trying to catch themselves … grasping for anything to hold them up.  But none of that happened.  Kori didn’t even put her hands out to break her fall. She stiffly hit her chest on the ground and skidded forward … landing on her forehead when she came to rest … arms straight down by her sides.

She roused quite quickly … in response to our clamoring around her …

“Are you okay??” …. “Kori, Kori … oh my gosh Kori … are you okay??”

She said she wasn’t sure.  She was disoriented. She said she felt sick to her stomach. She had some trouble getting the words out though. And for a moment, the left side of her face drooped just a little bit.  I called 911.  By the time the EMTs arrived, she was arriving back to her bubbly self.  When they asked what happened … she cheekily joked – with her ever ready quick wit:

“Well, she tripped me … and … she pushed me  … and … then I fell.” And after an impeccably well-timed pause … she jovially continued:  “No … not really. I just tripped.”

And well … not a single one of us who witnessed her fall were convinced that she “just tripped”. We shared some of our concerns with the handsome EMTs who took her to the ambulance for assessment. We told them that the way she fell seemed very odd.

And while they were assessing her,  we laymen collectively concurred that something wasn’t quite right.  But that is not what the professionals determined.  The EMTs speculated that she probably sustained a concussion in the fall. We tried to convince her to go to the hospital.  She pleasantly declined … assuring us that she was “just fine”. Given that they could find no obvious need for immediate treatment, the medics invited her to seek additional medical support if her symptoms got any worse over the rest of the day.

And our beautiful Kori was determined to put it all behind her and get back to work.  With one eye on our computers and the other on Kori, those of us who witnessed her fall watched over her when we got back into the training.  Not a single one of us was comfortable … and when she indicated that she still felt nauseated … one of us got up and  followed her out of the room. And, it took a while, but eventually someone convinced her to let us call her husband to come pick her up.

And even though I knew she was in the loving care of her husband …… I found myself fretting that she was likely to minimize it all and tell him that she had simply tripped.   And so, although I worried that I might be overstepping, I decided to call and talk to him about my concerns. When he didn’t pick up, I ended up leaving a message on his voicemail, suggesting that they might want to go get her double checked at the ER.

After he got my voicemail, Kori and I exchanged a few text messages and had a chat.  I pressed my point that she should be re-examined. She indicated that she had an appointment with the doctor the next day, so she was comfortable to wait until then. She was so patient with me. I was not so sure they should wait … but after assuring me that she was comfortable at home and “eating popcorn” … I surrendered my attempts to control their evening and reassured myself that things would be checked out the next day.

I will never know if it was by luck or by divine design … but my schedule magically cleared the next morning. I was so encouraged that I would be able to attend Kori’s doctor’s appointment with her …. so I could tell the doctor myself how odd it had looked to those of us who saw her fall. I also mentioned that the side of her face drooped for a bit. I shared that her speech seemed somewhat labored and that she slurred a bit right after she roused. I told him she was instantly nauseated. I was grateful for the opportunity to make the case that something was not just NOT right.

Despite my best efforts, the doctor seemed nonplussed and determined that she likely had a concussion. And, he ordered an x-ray of her wrist … instead of her head.  I was absolutely dumbfounded. I even felt a bit angry. And powerless. And perplexed. And scared.  She was off to x-ray and I had to get back to work, but I made her promise me that she would ask him about getting a scan of her head. I’m not sure how their conversation unfolded, but the scan never happened until another  doctor … doing another completely unrelated procedure ordered it … a whole week later!!

And that is when the real issue was discovered.  I still haven’t done it, but I have asked Kori’s permission to hug the wise and intuitive physician who ordered the scan … and … kick the other doctor squarely in the shins. It’s really hard not to be indignant about his diagnosis of ‘concussion’. He missed it. We gave him all the red flags and he totally disregarded our observations. He never even looked at her brain. He was more worried about her wrist. Gah. I will not apologize for questioning the quality of his care or discernment in this moment.

And so … a week later … Kori was completely blindsided by the most ominous diagnosis! She did not have a concussion. No. Kori had a brain tumor.  A brain tumor. How does one even wrap their head around THAT news??

We learned later that they believe she had a seizure … which is why she fell. Okay. That is why it looked so odd.  And … they determined to treat the tumor for a couple of weeks in order to shrink it before they attempted to surgically remove it.

During that time, Kori was such an inspiration.  She approached it all with such grace and optimism and, of course, her exceptional sense of humor.  She posted the following on her Facebook page.

And … then she posted this one:

And this one:

And we all bombarded her with love and support and prayers!  Her surgery was scheduled for July 6, 2018.  And, she posted this on social media in the wee hours on the morning of her surgery.

Yes.  THAT is the vibrant energy of this exceptional soul!  Even a diagnosis as grim as a brain tumor could not dim the glow of her blazing internal light. And we all crossed our fingers and populated the ethers with more love and prayers.

And … the good news was that the tumor was removed!  And more good news … the tumor was not cancerous.

The not so good news is that Kori experienced a stroke resulting from the surgery.  And, so although she has bid good riddance to the tumor … we have been holding space for her healing from the lingering effects of the stroke.  And, oh my, the love and prayers persisted  … wrapped in an infinite plenitude of care and concern and compassion.

Kori … with one of her beautiful daughters

And the recovery has been long.  She fell on June 12, 2018. Her first surgery was on July 6, 2018.  Her second surgery was immediately thereafter. Her third surgery was just over a year ago in early September 2018. She was finally allowed to return home on November 16, 2018.  And, on November 30th … a number of her colleagues met to have dinner together and catch up with one another. It was so wonderful to spend some time with her again … and yet … as I said in my text to her the next morning:

 I sensed there was so much more we could have discussed. I felt both the brightness of your soul and the weariness in your spirit. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it is on some days … to find your smile as you work to regain your losses.

And, it occurred to me that because she has always been such a bright light, it might be hard for her to find safe spaces where she could set down her cheery demeanor and simply rest and hold space for the grief that must also be part of the journey. I knew Kori had what it would take to thrive despite of all of this, but I guessed there had to be days when she just felt tired and discouraged. I’m sure there were … but she doggedly persisted in the pursuit of her healing.

And … all her tenacity was rewarded when she got the very best gift for her birthday on May 6th, 2019!  As she said in a Facebook post:

“What a nice way to spend my Birthday….. I got to go back to work today! 3 brain surgeries, one hemorrhagic stroke later, and I’m back to work! What a great way to spend my Birthday. Wonderful gift!”

And, the agency is so fortunate to have Kori back at work!  She is so incredibly gifted and brings so much to her career!  I have always marvelled at the way she handles an audience.  She is a fabulous public speaker … brilliantly weaving her beautiful heart together with her fabulous humor. Kori is exceptional. She works with senior citizens … and … her compassionate care and concern for them is obvious.  It has been beautiful to witness their love and support of her on social media!

And the love continues to pour in her direction. And … I am in awe of her strength and resilience as she finds her way through this dire turn of events. And, she is a shining example of how one can decide to live a great life anyway … regardless of what you find on your path. And, I think it is fair to say she has inspired so many of us to rethink the way we are living our lives, because one can never know what will come one’s way … on a seemingly regular Tuesday.

And, she has done just that!!  Thank you Kori … for showing us … for teaching us … that people can get through the most daunting adversity with the right attitude and the will to overcome the roadblocks tossed on their paths.  And, as a counsellor, I am aware that we do not always publicly see the struggles and challenges that are also part of any great overcoming … but … your grit, grace and glow remain an absolute inspiration.

And Kori, I know you have always lived your life from a perspective of gratitude … so much so that you even have the word “Blessed” tattooed onto your foot. 

And, while most of us would be hard-pressed to find the blessings in all you have been through … you continue to do so. Regardless of how dark it may seem … you are always looking for the light!

Yes, it is clear that all the love and support extended your way is cherished and treasured in your heart.  No. The gifts and blessings in your life are never lost on you!  But … I also want to ensure that you know that our lives are so much better because of you … and … with you in them!

I am so grateful our lives intersected beautiful one! I sincerely thank you for casting such a brilliant glow into my world … both pre and post stroke! Yes. I just wanted you to know that although we no longer work together … I am grateful that we still connect every now and again for lunches … and … have hopes that we will have continued opportunities to connect at our monthly “Von Schnitzel” collegial suppers! ❤

 I know that your journey continues.  And, I also know that you will find a way to ensure that any blessings that might be hidden in the hardships you have endured will be honored and appreciated. You are one of those amazing souls that turns lemons into lemonade … and then … generously offers to quench everyone’s thirst! And may this blog serve to remind you that we are all still cheering you on … ever grateful for all the ways that our lives are better because you are in them. Yes … we are all so much better because of you.

And so, in closing … I just have to share this.  When I saw the following quotation, I laughed.  It sounded just like something you might say … using your exceptional sense of humor to describe all you have been through since that fateful Tuesday …

With heartfelt gratitude for your shining presence … ❤ Karen ❤

 

 

 

Better Because of You … and … my 20 plus 2 years with FCSS!

Source Unknown but deeply appreciated.

I was scheduled to receive my 20 year long service recognition award at an agency function on Saturday, January 12 … but … because I won’t be at the gathering, I had arranged for my colleagues to accept it on my behalf.  They agreed to record the moment, so that I too, could listen to my “acceptance speech”. The whole idea made my heart smile.  Unbeknownst to me, however, I learned plans had changed, and it was supposed to be presented to me during our monthly staff meeting instead. And so, being one who can typically fly by the seat of my pants, I agreed to accept the award, at the meeting, with about 10 minutes advance notice.

Well … it had been quite an unusual staff meeting – leading to all kinds of unexpected moments.  I was still feeling a bit rattled, and so, when it came time for me to offer a few words, I kept it really short and simple. I remember briefly acknowledging my heartfelt appreciation and gratitude to my colleagues – with some slightly gushing but entirely genuine generalities.  In retrospect, I regret that I hurried my words … and … I recognize that I didn’t do justice to the fullest expression that actually fills my heart space when I looks back over my time with Barons-Eureka-Warner Family and Community Support Services [FCSS].

Now that I’ve had more time to gather myself and collect my thoughts, I would like to use this “Better Because of You” space to more deeply honor the folks that have framed my remarkable two decades as an employee of FCSS.  Because, after all, it is not the walls that define one’s experience in a workplace, but the people within them. Each and every one of them. And, believe it or not, our agency has not seen much staff turnover over the past 20 years. I wish I had more photos right now … so I could picture everyone, but unfortunately, I do not.

Staff Retreat January 2017

 

Christmas Party …. 2014

I remember my interview, way back in 1993, for one of the six “Parent Programmer” contract positions that were being filled. We would be allotted 20 hours/month to support families in our communities … with the most noble job on the planet … parenting. I was up against one other applicant … a woman who had some shiny credentials and fancy letters behind her name.  I had neither of those.  And then, during the interview, when they asked something about my own childhood, my ‘got-it-all together‘ demeanor was unbecomingly betrayed by some tender tears trickling down down my cheeks.  Argh. There I was, trying to be my best professional self … trying to put my best face forward … and … my cheeks were wet with tears. Who cries in a job interview?? Double argh!  I am usually really good at managing, hiding my emotions.

No one was more surprised than me when I got the call to say I got the job!  They did suggest … however … that I might also want to get some counseling to help me work through my own family of origin stuff.  Fair enough. And, that framed my beginning with an agency that clearly looked beyond academic credentials.  I must humbly concede, however, that I never hastily heeded their sage suggestion that I seek some support.  Instead, I eagerly and enthusiastically immersed myself in my brand new responsibilities as a ‘parent programmer’!

I loved, loved, loved my work for a couple of years.  But then … as my unhealed wounds from the past caught up with me, I ran into some significant challenges with raising my own three daughters. It got to the point where I no longer felt credible enough to presume I had any business trying to help others with their parenting concerns. And so … I quit my job.  And, I recognized that I best seek out that counseling that my employers had so earnestly recommended when they hired me.  And so, I did.

The irony of it all was that my childhood dream was to become a counselor . But … there I was, calling a counselor instead of being one. It turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.  And so … a couple of years of healing later, when an opening emerged in the Parenting Program  I initially resisted applying for it.  But then, I received an unexpected call from my prior supervisor … asking me if I was going to apply.  I was convinced that my own personal failings  experiences in the parenting trenches would prevent other parents from respecting anything I had to offer in that professional role … but she indicated that management was hoping to see my application in the pile.

Encouraged by their faith in me, I submitted my resume and started back with FCSS in September of 1997. And … guess what?  It turns out that parents find you even MORE credible when you can relate to their stumbles and struggles. It turns out, you are even more approachable and believable when you have endured some humbling parenting moments yourself.  Yes, it turns out that parents who are looking for support don’t feel as comfortable with professionals whose parenting journey sparkles with too much perfection.

And so … was the second beginning of my employment with FCSS … and … the 20 consecutive years that preceded the presentation of my long service award. There have been both blessings to behold and challenges to be championed over my time with FCSS.  In the early years, I was so timid and shy that I blushed every time I spoke up in a meeting … which was rare (the speaking – not the blushing!).  I am such an introvert and really need time to process things before I speak. And so, by the time I had integrated the conversation and knew what I wanted to say … the discussion had already moved on.  So I often said nothing.  These days, I am more likely to interrupt and ask if we can circle back to the prior conversation … so I can add my two cents.  I think my colleagues are getting used to that  … :-).

I can honestly say that I am so much better, both personally and professionally, because of my time with FCSS.  It really grew me as a person.  I found a deeper sense of faith in myself. I have discovered that my heart can be trusted and my instincts are reliable. I have learned to claim my voice and to stand behind my convictions.  I’ve always had a compassionate heart … but as Joan Halifax has so eloquently stated … in order to ultimately serve the greatest good …. we need to approach our experiences with a “soft front” and a “strong back”.  Yes. I’ve learned that well.

I don’t talk about it much, but I experienced some of the most critically challenging times in my life while working with FCSS.  At the worst point, about 15 years ago, I was being shunned in my multi-disciplinary workplace … by the bulk of my colleagues … who believed some misinformation circulating about me.  I opted to take the high road.  I thought it best to not get into the muck with the perpetrator (another colleague) by defending myself against such twisted ‘truths’.  I hoped my actions would outweigh her words.  But … as the gossip increasingly fueled my ostracization, it got to the point where I could barely force myself through the doors to face the hostility I felt in their scathing but silent condemnation.

And , I just kept turning the other cheek … thinking that  response was the most noble thing to do. I told myself that she was wounded … and … reminded myself that “hurt people hurt people”.  And while I still believe that to be true, I was fooling myself to think it was more spiritually enlightened to simply let it continue to happen. I didn’t realize, at the time, that despite one’s understanding of why people might be behaving badly … it is not kind nor altruistic to continue to allow them to do so.

I needed to find my back bone. I was being bullied and no one was coming to save me.  Not even me. No. With my silent stoicism, I was actually enabling someone to hurt me.

When I received a disdainful email from said ‘hurt person’ in another blatant effort to further diminish me … I couldn’t take the seemingly ‘high road’ anymore.  I found my back bone.  And … as I learned to stand strong in my own integrity, things eventually corrected themselves.  And my colleague finally found herself being held accountable for her words, actions and deeds.  And then, one day, she was gone.

I vowed to myself, at that time, that I would never let that happen again … to me or anyone else. I vowed that when I saw injustice or harm being perpetrated upon another … I would not step over it.  I would speak up and stand up … not with any intention to cause harm to them, but with the intention to help the situation.

 

And for the better part of my years with FCSS, we were blessed with an Executive Director who was an exceptional visionary.  He stretched us to places we never would have gone without his leadership. We became a cutting edge agency … partnering with the highly-esteemed leaders of the Neuroscience department of the University of Lethbridge.  Bryan Kolb and Robbin Gibb became part of our FCSS family. Under Greg’s initiative, we were also gleaning new direction by rubbing shoulders with incomparable thinkers like Bruce Perry. Collectively, their bodies of work and expertise informed and underpinned our practices as we sought to support individuals and families in our communities. Greg was also inspired by the renowned Mary Gordon and her foundational work with Roots of Empathy and Parent Link Centres.  Mary came to Alberta and helped FCSS introduce these remarkable supports so that children could to get off to the very best start in their lives. Oh my … I can’t begin to list it all … but Greg’s legacy is long and lives on in the hearts and souls of so many who were lucky enough to be touched by his vision.

And, his staff rose to the occasion.  He told me once, he hired people based upon their attitudes not their credentials.  Some might scoff at that … but … he indicated that you can teach people skills, but you can’t transform their hearts as easily. I agree with him.  And … the people he chose to fill positions within FCSS … aka my colleagues … are people of incredible heart and unparalleled zeal and exceptional passion. Together we braved all the unknown territory our Director invited us to venture towards. And we formed an incredibly tight family that was often the expressed envy of other agencies and organizations.  Staff morale was high and so was staff retention.  We felt valued and acknowledged and appreciated … not simply seen as a means to an end … but rather he regarded his staff as exemplary catalysts creating a better and brighter future for those we sought to serve. And, we didn’t want to let him down. And, we never left a meeting without him sincerely acknowledging our efforts with a “thank you for all that you do”.

Thank you Greg Pratt, for your insight and intention.  Thank you for creating a work space that no one wanted to leave.  May you rest in peace.

Almost 15 years ago, Greg allowed me to reduce my hours so I could resurrect my dreams and go back to school.  He certainly had no obligation to grant my request. I will never forget him compassionately responding, “Karen, I would never want to stand in the way of anyone’s dreams”. People first.

And ultimately, I got the credentials that allowed me to land my dream job.  And … as it happened, I was even able to remain employed at FCSS while doing it. I surrendered my duties and responsibilities within the Parenting Program and claimed a space that opened up within the Counselling Program.  It has been the most rewarding time of my life.  So much so … that … I am in violation of the number of  vacation days I am allowed to accrue.  True story.  I was informed that I need to use up my vacation time in order to be in compliance with policy.

But, even the dreamiest part of my job has not been without challenges … and/or … opportunities to keep a soft heart and exercise a strong back.  Once again, about five years ago, FCSS was the backdrop to another of the most challenging times in my life. And, even when I was threatened with a law suit … a potential end my dream career … I was committed to standing strong.  I had taken heartfelt exception to what I was seeing and simply could not stand idly by and watch vulnerable people get harmed … however unwittingly by their well-intended but oblivious and cavalier perpetrator. I had to take the risk. Strong back, soft front. Fortunately … the individual opted to retire.

And, I know I could not have made it through those challenging times, were it not for the support and encouragement I received from my management team and my cherished counseling colleagues at FCSS. Yes. Management stood behind my decision and that helped fortify my resolve. I owe tremendous thanks to them for having my back … on that occasion and many others.  I also applaud them for gently helping me to shift my gaze, if and when, I needed correction.  The blessings of solid, predictable management over the past 20 years cannot be understated.

And, my counseling colleagues at FCSS have become my safe haven. They are among the few people in the world who I invite into the most tender parts of my heart space. And, they have handled the most fragile parts of my soul with such impeccably compassionate understanding.  I have grown immeasurably because of the support of these folks.

And, because we work in different departments and different communities at FCSS, I don’t see everyone all the time … but I hold the deepest regard for each of the staff at our agency.  And that doesn’t mean we always see eye-to-eye on things. We don’t. And we’ve had some prickly times as a result. But, as I shared with someone recently, “From where I am looking, its not the bumps that ultimately define us, but rather, it’s how we decide to move through them.”  And, it cannot be argued that despite any differences we may hold, we share an unfailing commitment to serve the constituents of our communities … to the very best of our capacities. People first.

I must also take this moment to pay due respect to our administrative staff.  Your impeccable skills and unfailing expertise provide such a secure foundation upon which the rest of us have come to depend.  Your energy, effort, enthusiasm, encouragement and support are second to none.  Thank you for holding us together with such dignity and grace … despite our messed up time sheets (among other things!)

And, I would be remiss to not acknowledge the Boards of Directors we have seen over the years.  Their dedication to keeping FCSS funded and recognized in our communities has been essential.  We have been led by some incredibly inspiring individuals. Thank you for spearheading our services and gifting us with the best supports you could provide.

And, as I write this, I am leaving for the weekend to celebrate my 60th birthday … which is officially in a few weeks.  And … as I am honored for my 20 years of commitment within FCSS, it strikes me that I have spent a full ONE THIRD of my life working within this agency. And, I am so proud of who we have been and who we have been invited to become.  Strong back … soft front … people first.

At our last staff meeting, we were invited to reflect upon our journeys as employees of FCSS.  I, once again, found unexpected tears trickling down my cheeks. I am not prone to such emotional expressions during meetings … but … in that moment, my heart was flooded with all the amazing moments and memories that I have collected over the last couple of decades. And, it is difficult to put into words … just how transformational it can be when people have believed in you and invited you to soar.  It is rare to work in a space where people have honored your presence and valued your being. My time at FCSS has been such a gift …

And … so … it is from the most humble place in my heart, I thank all of the bright and beautiful spirits that make FCSS a workplace where priority is given to the souls that we serve … not just the statistics we are required to collect. I honor you all for keeping your eyes on our mandate’s most precious commodity … it’s humanity. I applaud each of you for the tireless hours you invest into the care and support of those who might have minimal resources and/or may be struggling in isolation to find their way.  I admire your capacity to keep your own hearts soft … despite many invitations for them to get tough.  I respect your courage to stand in the truth or your own beings. I adore your authenticity and sincerity and genuineness of spirit.  I love being a part of this impeccable group. I am proud of who we represent and what we are capable of creating when we put our hearts and spirits together in the name of FCSS.

Thank you … truly … deeply … immeasurably … for shaping my days with this agency.  I am so much better because of you … and my twenty plus two years with FCSS.

Yes … this is what I wished I would have said at our staff meeting  … Karen

 

 

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Better Because of Our 13 Days …

Geraldine Fay Lindquist Johnson

She’d been in my life for 43 years.  For much longer than my own mom … who died when I was 31.  I remember when she excitedly extended her hand to show me her rings. I had travelled 1195 kilometers to visit with her and my dad. Sick. I felt entirely sick. She never said a word, but her eyes were twinkling as brightly as the diamonds perched prominently on her left ring finger. It took everything within me to bite back the tears in order to feign ample and appropriate enthusiasm. Seriously … how could they get married without even telling me??  I never asked. Some things feel better left unsaid.

And so, I always spoke of her as “my dad’s wife”. However, some 15 or 20 years (!!) later, I actually came upon the truth. She had no idea I believed they were married. It was all a complete misunderstanding. The truth was that she had been working on him relentlessly … begging for matrimony … for years!  But for reasons known only to my very stalwart father … he steadfastly refused to remarry. I could sense the pain of rejection in her heart because as she said … for a woman of her generation … it would be particularly shameful for her to die an “old maid”or “spinster”.  And so, to spare herself any public embarrassment, she adopted his last name and wore her wedding rings very proudly.  I got it. 

All she ever wanted was to be a wife and mother.  But my dad died unexpectedly without ever officially saying “I do” to her.  And, although she had also pressed me to call her “mom” … I’m not sure I much embraced her as a parental figure. I guess the whole decades long belief that they had been ‘wedded without me’ had made her his ‘wife’ in my eyes, but certainly not my ‘stepmom’. Instead, I opted to affectionately call her“Ger” instead of Gerri … and … she fondly called me “Kar” instead of Karen.

In addition to my own little family, I was all Ger had left after my dad died.  And, at 82, she was still living on her own.  We had looked into alternate spaces, but it distressed her terribly to think of leaving the home she had shared with my dad.  I had finally convinced her that she needed to wear a Life Alert because she was getting less stable on her feet and had fallen a couple of times.

Celebrating her 82nd birthday …

Ger’s health had always been tentative … and she had regularly experienced days when she was laid up … feeling “punk”.  Usually it was because she had bitten off more than she could chew … trimming branches on trees, moving furniture, shampooing the carpets etc – by herself.  Yes.  I said by herself.  When she got an idea in her head, she had no patience to wait for help to arrive.  And so, she often overdid it and paid the price.

But, the malaise that preceded her landing in ER on July 31, 2017 had persisted for nearly three weeks.  When I got stern with her – questioning her reticence to call her doctor – she admitted she was scared about what he might have to say. She had a stint put in some years ago, carried nitroglycerin in her purse and took baby aspirin regularly. Perhaps her ticker was acting up again?

It appears that she was very intuitive indeed …  something was, in fact, very wrong. 

When she got out of bed the next morning … she took a few steps and collapsed.  Thank goodness for her Life Alert button!  And so … we found ourselves in the ER … utterly dumbfounded … staring at each other … in wide-eyed disbelief. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon on that fateful Monday and the day had already taken some very unexpected and unfavorable turns. There would be tests and more tests.

And may I say that for as long as Ger has been part of my life, she has always caught me up short by hastily forging head-first into foreboding territory.  She always dives in long before I am emotionally prepared to tackle any such precarious terrain.  I am far more tentative and reflective about everything in my life.  I prefer to tip-a-toe in tentatively and get a sense of things before I move forward with unfettered conviction. But not Ger … she has always preferred to swoop into action … immediately.

It was the same when my dad died very unexpectedly during a summer BBQ on July 12, 2009.  He had just filled his plate … and enthusiastically declared “This is great!”  And then … he was gone.

Ger needed to be ‘doing’ things to help her process her grief.  I, on the other hand, needed time to simply ‘be’ with the loss before I could think about making decisions or taking actions that could not be undone.  It definitely created some emotional tension for both of us as we mourned the loss of the same man. Nothing wrong with either approach … but … this particular Monday was proving to be no different.

She needed to know, right then and there … and … did not hesitate to ask the attending ER physician just how long she could expect to live. I expected him to defer by saying it would be premature to guess until the prognosis had been officially confirmed.  But, much to my chagrin, he responded:

“Maybe two months.” 

Whoa. What??  My mind frantically raced for some way to process this blindside.  Yesterday was just a normal Sunday.  We had a conversation on the phone.  I was looking forward to having this particular Monday off work so I could nibble away at my ‘to-do’ list. And, in all honesty, I was still trying to process the death of my father-in-law (who had died just two months prior) . And his passing was fairly hot on the heels of the death of his wife … my mother-in-law (just 7 months prior to that).  We were already knee deep … maybe chin deep … into the grieving process. I instinctively resisted.

“We can’t be certain Ger.  At this point, it’s all just speculation.” 

But she was already making plans.  I respected the gravity of her situation enough to know that if this was going to be the last leg of her journey … I needed to honor her desires to do it her way.  And so, in order to keep up, I opened a new tab in my Wunderlist  App … and labeled it “Gerri”.  I started making notes as she determined, discussed and directed what she wanted taken care of before she, too, departed this earthly plane.  I left the hospital late in the evening, in utter disbelief … hoping that ‘tomorrow’ would be a better day.

On Tuesday morning, August 1st, I returned bright and early … and … Ger was still making plans. I promised to take her cat, Scamper, home to live with me. She gave me her banking pass code and asked me to update her bank book.  I’m not sure why her finances were important in THAT moment, but she needed to be sure that OAS had given her the increase she was expecting. Can do.  And … she reckoned that one of the family best take and use the expensive silky cover off her built-in vacuum hose. She’d paid a pretty penny for it … no sense leaving that gem for a renter. Okay.  And … she wondered about how she would die … would she suffer? Would she suffocate, would she choke … would her heart take her? Gulp.

I compassionately searched deeply into her eyes and asked if she was scared. She confirmed that if she let herself think about it, she felt frightened. She looked down for a moment and then pensively uttered,“What if … what if I am denied entry at the pearly gates?”

For a split second, I could feel the weight of that worry hanging heavily in her heart. And then, with her next breath she moved quickly past that uncomfortable query and determined that her electric fireplace  would look great on a particular wall in the spacious bedroom of her grand-daughter’s new house. Agreed. She was delighted that another of her grand-daughters could use the stand up freezer. Excellent. And the desks … she wanted me to have her antique desk and tea cart. For sure.  I was squirming internally as she so casually discussed such things.

I told her it felt entirely awkward, inappropriate and insensitive to be discussing the dispersal of her belongings. Some things feel better left unsaid. She assured me that it pleased her so very deeply to know that her legacy would live on in the belongings that would be enjoyed by those she loved. And, she declared that she didn’t want a funeral. Okay. She wanted us to have a nice family dinner and just talk about her instead. Fair enough.  But, I found myself offering an alternate perspective:

“Ger, let’s wait until they do more tests.  They could be mistaken.  The mass they spotted in your lung might not be fatal.”

How does one even begin to integrate such news  when the big “C” was never ever … not for one moment … a prior concern in one’s eight decades of life.  They did more tests. And more scans.  They needed to consult with the oncologist and the lung specialist.  She reminded me to take her ashes, her mother’s ashes and my dad’s ashes to a specified place. We ordered her a TV so she could keep up with The Young and the Restless.  It occurred to me that we’d need a schedule so we could take turns watering her lawn and feeding Scamper while she was in hospital.

Wednesday, August 2nd … they did a biopsy on the tumor and were going to do a brain scan when her heart acted up again.  They ended up losing her at one point. Gone. Her room was empty when I arrived to visit. After a bit of panic … they sympathetically told me that my ‘mom’ had been moved to ICU. I never corrected them. They used the paddles to revive her. It was shortly after that they got the results of the biopsy and they discovered she also had MRSA.  It’s a super bug  … an infection that is highly resistant to treatment. It seemed prudent to get the Power of Attorney signed. It was entirely surreal … and … unraveling far too quickly for me.

Thursday, August 3rd … the doc came in to confirm the diagnosis. Yes. Cancer. Stage 4.  A small cell type that spreads quickly.  They believe it started in her lung about six to 12 months prior and confirmed that it had already spread to her adrenal glands and her liver. It had also metastasized into her lymph system and likely into her bones.

No emotion or tears on her part.  Just more action. She decided to sell us her car so it wouldn’t get caught up in probate. It occurred to me that I should probably take her purse home for safekeeping.  I reckoned I should bring her slippers. She thought maybe an ice cream would taste good. Funny where the mind goes in a moment like that.

When the oncologist arrived for rounds, she asked again: “how long”?  Perhaps two months … unless it was in her brain. She slipped up and later told someone she had two weeks.  I corrected her.  No Ger … the doc said two months. She second guessed me by asking if I was sure about that. Yep. I was sure. The tests had confirmed it was not in her brain.

Hmmm. She was sure she had about two weeks. The oncologist was gentle and kind and recommended palliative care. And she started planning again.

Because of the contagious nature of MRSA, visitation was counter-indicated for many.  We had to mask-up, glove-up and gown-up completely to be in her presence.  A few of the family came to visit, but for the better part of her hospitalization … it was mostly just me and Ger.

Monday, August 7th … Myrna (Ger’s late brother’s wife) made the long trip from Saskatchewan.  I could sense Ger’s delight with her arrival. They had remained very dear friends. And, she seemed tickled with our three-way conversation.  At one point … in true “Granny style” (as my girls would fondly suggest)  Ger looked at both Myrna and I and fervently exclaimed:

” After all of this … if I don’t die … I’m going to be really pissed off!”

We all burst into laughter at the paradoxical nature of her comment.  I suggested that maybe instead of having a dinner after she passed, maybe she could join us in a family feasting when she moved into Palliative Care whereby she could “eavesdrop” on our conversation about her.  Well, she thought that would be okay … but … could we have a dinner in her honor afterwards, too?  Of course. And we’ll be sure to serve Lucy’s famous chocolate cake!  Lucy is my son-in-law’s lovely mother … and … her chocolate cake recipe has become a family favorite!

Tuesday, August 8th … we talked about the things she could do to decorate her new home in palliative and make it feel like home.  The white shag carpet.  Perhaps an armchair … if there was space? Maybe we could sneak Scamper in for a final visit?  Maybe we could smuggle in a ‘go cup’  filled with her favorite Royal Red wine … aka “Granny’s swill” ?  She hastily put the brakes on that idea.  She was entirely averse to getting evicted from palliative care before she got settled in.  We laughed … and yet … there was something sobering about the absurdity of all that we were so casually discussing.

Her decline was rapid. The very next day, she unexpectedly lost some lucidity.  She told Myrna she was quite sure she had died at 2:17pm.  And, by the following day, she was unable to speak with any comprehensive coherence. And, it was becoming more and more difficult for her to breathe.  They cancelled her transfer to palliative.

And so, true to form, even in her dying … Ger wasted no time. Once again … her pace was far too fast for me to process comfortably.   And ultimately … she was right. It wasn’t two months. It wasn’t even two weeks.  It was 13 days …

At some point during our last 13 days together, Ger told me that she came into the world alone … lived most of her life alone … and … expected to die alone.  In that moment, my heart ached for her … because in so many ways … she was right.  Her father had been murdered. Her mother could be quite abusive.  My father – her spouse – was emotionally disconnected. She had limited contact with her brother before he died young of melanoma. She had endured a whole lot of trauma and abandonment in her life. The stories she recanted broke my heart.

And … I could not deny that I, too, had contributed to her sense of loneliness. I was often too busy to make her a priority. It takes 1.5 hours round trip to get to Ger and all our family from where I live … so a quick pop-in every now and again was just not possible.  I had gone back to school as a mature student to complete my BSW as well as my MSW … and …  was also employed  as a counselor in my community along with running a small private practice of my own on the side. I have one husband, three daughters and eight grandchildren …  so … the pulls for my attention are/were persistent and plentiful. In addition to that … within the last three years … the demands on my time had become increasingly intensified as my aging and ailing in-laws health deteriorated and their medical needs and chronic crises eclipsed any predictability in our lives. I am also a landlord with four rental properties. In all honesty … I had been struggling to keep all those balls in the air and had become entirely depleted trying to do so.

That said, I did my best to ‘be there’ for Ger … but … I always knew my best wasn’t nearly as much as she wanted and/or deserved in terms of my time and attention. And, in all honesty, it troubled my heart to know I was falling short of her expectations. And so, with an ache in my heart for my inability to make the days of her life less lonely … I committed myself to being there ‘with’ her and showing up fully ‘for’ her … during her final journey home. I let her know I was “all hers” for the duration.

I spent some long days with her at the hospital. I really didn’t want her to be alone when she passed. The staff knew me as her ‘daughter’ and referred to Ger as my ‘mom’.  I never corrected any of them. Some things feel better left unsaid.  In fact, I could feel Ger’s heart swell with these new terms of reference in the space. And, in all honesty … it felt really good to me too.

As it turned out … she waited until I had gone home for the night on Saturday, August 12th. The nurse called me, just a couple of hours after I left, to say that my mom had taken her last breath while they were making their rounds and tending to her comfort.  I was surprised by how hard it hit me. I thought I was prepared …

It was to be our 40th wedding anniversary the next day. I didn’t feel like celebrating. So we didn’t. And, although it does my heart good to know that she wasn’t actually ‘alone’ when she passed because she had the nursing staff with her … it still struck me that Ger was being a bit of a ‘stinker’ for not letting me be there when she transitioned. My daughter suggested that perhaps she waited until I was gone because she, in fact, didn’t want to leave me alone when she passed. Hmmmm … I still tear up when I think of it that way.

We hired a Life Celebrant  (thank you Shelly Bassett!)  who met with us in advance to gather our recollections … and … she composed a beautiful ‘life story’ honoring Ger/Granny. Shelly orated this meaningful tribute to her as we gathered in a large circle in our back yard on a very warm, sunny day.  Our celebration was complete with all of Ger’s very favorite things … including taco in a bag!  Her grand-daughters and I wore pieces of her favorite jewellery and we toasted her with her ‘swill’ and some Japanese ‘sake’ that she had liked to share with her grandsons.  It turned into far more than just the conversation she wanted us to have about her. I recorded it … and … we have a printed copy of the ‘story’ of Ger/Granny and all she meant to us.

Ger took great pride in her home and took such impeccable care of things.  I have updated my own space with so many beautiful things of hers.  Her energy is now present in each room of my house.  By the way, I discovered a number of ‘spreaders’ in her kitchen drawers.  I took three of them home with me and passed the others on to my daughters. I figured if she had more than one, they must be good.

Well … I am not sure how I lived almost 60 years without one!   Who knew they would make such a culinary difference!   I bought new ones for all my daughters!  I even bought one for my bestie!  If you don’t own one … or … haven’t tried one … I highly implore you to allow Gerri’s legacy to touch your life too, in this small way.

As I was going through her belongings, I came across something in her most precious memorabilia. Many years ago, one of the ways I attempted to combat the commercialization of  Christmas, was to have us make homemade gifts for one another and attach a meaningful affirmation to each other. I discovered she had saved them. And  … I share one year of our affirmations of her with you here because they offer a beautiful snapshot of just who she was to all of us:

And, I absolutely sobbed when I came across one she had kept that my dad  … the man who refused to marry her … had written:

THAT she was.  My dad’s life was irrefutably better because of my step-mom. His prior lived experience had carved some pretty sharp edges into him … but she loved him unconditionally … even during the times when he could be pretty darn difficult to love. And, she cared for him tenderly and compassionately during the most fragile and unbecoming moments of his own journey with cancer.  And, she tended to him with her whole heart … and … she never failed to make him her utmost priority in life.  Ever.

And, I must also add, that Ger’s life was undeniably better because of him.  He offered her more safety and security than she had ever experienced within her family of origin. And that doesn’t mean their relationship was all roses and sunshine. No.  A union of two wounded souls cannot be without its darkness. But, in all honestly … I could see that they were unarguably, the answer to each of their prayers.

Ger and I had eight years together after my dad passed, but … I can honestly say that our last 13 days became a cherished time of deeper connection for us.  We were able to  meet each other in that sacred place beyond the accidental hurts, misunderstandings and unmet expectations that sometimes prickled between us.  And instead … we embraced a felt sense of the unconditional parts of the love that we also held for one another.

With the deepest of reverence, I came to appreciate her idiosyncratic way of being in the world … not as my dad’s wife, but as my step-mom. Yes. It was truly a blessing to be gifted with that space and time … a divinely orchestrated opportunity to ‘be’ with each other in deep, unfettered and meaningful ways.

And so Ger …  I really want to “thank you” for launching promptly into action even before they could confirm your diagnosis. Were it not for that, I would never have been so aware of all your wishes.  And, I remain committed to honoring each and every one of them … except one.

Please accept my sincerest apologies  … but I didn’t bring Scamper home with me the day you died … as I had promised.  Through an amazing turn of events, I became aware of a youngster who really, really wanted to have him.  And I suspect you will forgive me, because as I look at this picture of the two of them together, it appears to be a match made in Heaven.  That said, I am wondering … if perhaps … you somehow had a hand in orchestrating this sublime alternative for your furry feline.

And ultimately … I need you to know Ger … I have been shifted and stretched to a better version of myself as a result of our precious 13 days together.  You taught me that there is something deeply transformational about sitting with the dying. I erroneously assumed that being with you was going to be my gift to you … but … I can see now that … the gift was mine.

I feel so very blessed to have shared that sacred space with you and I remain humbled by the love and energy in our final moments together. Thank you for loving me … like every good mother would do. Always. In your own special way. And thank you for caring so deeply about me … as your only daughter.

My home is filled with reminders of you … and … I will carry so much of your spirit in my heart as I greet all the days yet to come. I hope I can bring some of your feisty energy with me into our family celebrations.  Your generous heart will be missed in more ways than you can imagine.

Thank you again Ger … I am truly so much better because of your presence in my life … and especially … because of our precious last 13 days together,  ❤ Kar ❤

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[GUEST POST]: Township Environment

We are often inspired to support those less fortunate than ourselves. This Better Because of You Tribute is dedicated to Jim and Janet Jamer for their selfless efforts to bring more hope, light and love to the incredible souls trying to thrive despite the unfathomable hardships they must endure whilst living in the townships in South Africa.

We were so sadly sobered when we saw for ourselves the plight of so much of our humanity. It has been one of our deepest pleasures to provide just a wee bit of support.  I hope you will spend a few moments taking in the magnitude of both strength and strife that is reflected in these pictures and words. And, if you are so inspired, please feel free to contact Jim or Janet and see how you might be able to add your heart to this project!

AND … most importantly …

“THANK YOU” Jim and Janet for being such amazing light workers. Our humanity is so much better because of you!

With deepest respect and appreciation for your hearts, Karen

Better Because … You are Such a Beautiful Person Joan!

At a glance, our lives looked quite different.  Joan knew how to play piano.  I envied that about her until I saw how she was required to practice for 30 minutes everyday after school.  She also had to rotate the sheets on her twin bed weekly – i.e. take the top sheet and move it to the bottom of her bed … and then … the bottom sheet went into the laundry.  On Fridays, if memory serves. And, when I slept over, I learned that her mom checked her toothbrush to ensure it was wet.  I don’t remember clean teeth ever being an issue at my house. But then again, I am only presuming  that my sheets got washed … at least occasionally … and a mouthful of silver fillings would suggest that the relative lack of scrutiny and discipline in my home was probably not the best thing either.

She wasn’t even allowed to open her Christmas presents until they had finished a full sit-down breakfast … and … the dishes were all washed, dried and put away.  I couldn’t tell you what dish soap was squirted into the sink at our house, but I distinctly recall that at Joan’s house, they used Ivory Snow  … a powder detergent. It made the dishes REALLY slippery … and therefore … decidedly dangerous for the dish ‘dryer’.  The dish ‘washer’ needed rubber gloves with little white cotton liners to tolerate the scalding hot water that filled both the wash sink and a rinse sink. In contrast to that, their house looked like an ice cube shaped igloo … it had a flat roof and was constructed out of painted white cinder blocks. Although I remember a marble and metal elegance about it on the inside … it felt a bit cold to me … somehow.  Not that Joan and I ever discussed it back then.

Joan’s mom had a different last name and she seemed somewhat stiff and properly proper.  Or, maybe even terse.  Nonetheless, she annually made a really impressive chocolate log cake on June 9th … Joan’s birthday. Unlike most moms back then, she owned a business and worked outside the home. Joan had three siblings that I don’t recall seeing very much. I do remember her step father though. He was around more than her mother. He drank a lot. I knew tipsy when I saw it. I never felt as though they liked me much. Of course, I assumed it was because of my less than Hallmark family life.  I was always praying people wouldn’t notice that …

Yes, there were some visible differences in our orbits. But upon closer inspection, there were striking similarities. We looked a lot alike … we were both fair-skinned, fair-haired, very shy and easily embarrassed. We both did really well in school and were ‘accelerated’ along with five other kids in elementary school. One year, for ‘back-to-school’, we unwittingly arrived at school in the exact same off-white fisherman knit sweater from Sears and a teacher mistook me for Joan. And, I’ll never forget that in grade five,  we two got picked to go with Mr. Moyer to the art gallery on a Saturday morning.  I learned Joan was allergic to Brazil nuts that day. And, as I recall, neither of us were particularly interested in athletics.

It’s been over five decades since our friendship blossomed … perhaps cultivated by an unspoken, intrinsic knowing that we were more alike than we were different. When the family is precarious … uncertain or undesirable … friendship assumes a more central role in our feelings of security. At least it did for me. Our friendship held such deep and abiding space in my heart.  I am not sure Joan ever knew how integral she was to my sense of self-worth and well-being back then. Or … how often I feel grateful now for her encouraging energy and inspiring presence in my circle.

A couple of years ago, while I was working through some of the bumpiest parts of my own path, I disclosed a painful ‘aha’ that was deeply personal and not particularly flattering on my blog. You may want to follow the link and read that posting first  in order to better understand the loving, empathetic and heart-aching response Joan shared in the comments section of that blog:

“I sobbed big crocodile tears as [I] read this blog. I hurt deeply for two girls who grew up together who both came from dysfunction and who both felt that they were unworthy. We have been friends for half a century and in many ways we walked such similar paths and in many ways kept much of it hidden. Although you knew my step father was an alcoholic what you didn’t know was my mother was also diagnosed with mental illness. My mother was not diagnosed until much later in life after I had been diagnosed with a brain injury from her repeated beatings. My mother was diagnosed as a fairly severe sociopath and I was her target. So please let me share this with you my friend. I too took that cape off. I took it off a few years ago, and looking back I ask myself why I carried that heavy thing around for so long??? I am in a place now where I can look at the part of my life and say “thank you”. I believe that the universe brings us all things, including our challenges, for a reason. I know that those experiences in my childhood made me a much better parent and a much better counselor. The experiences of my childhood followed up by 2 abusive marriages have allowed me to relate to and help 100’s of people. I promise you, it will be easier and easier to leave that cape off and let people see the “messy” you, the “real” you. With each day you will feel lighter and lighter because that cape was getting heavier and heavier with each passing year. Welcome to this wonderful new world my friend! You are going to love it! Love Joan xoxo”

I was so deeply touched when I received her compassionate, candid and completely transparent response. My friend has been through so much, but … you wouldn’t sense that when you meet her.  She has done her own healing work and has adamantly refused to be reduced by the unfortunate circumstances in which she landed.  And, she has generously taken all that she has learned and created a career which allows her to counsel and assist others in rising above the pains of their past. She is an amazing example of how we can turn our wounds into wisdom and how we can use our adverse experiences to serve the greater good.

Joan, despite the geographical distance that has existed between us over the last 40 years … our friendship has thrived.  And, although I wish we could sip a little red wine together more often, I feel indebted to Facebook for very effectively bridging the physical space between us. I am so darn grateful to Mark Zuckerberg for that!  I can feel your energetic alignment with the divine every time I ‘see’ you on your Facebook Business Page … Inspired Wellness & Hypnotherapy.  I want you to know how much I look forward to nourishing myself with the wealth of compassion, inspiration and hope conveyed on your page.  I’m not sure there has ever been a post that I didn’t ‘like’ and/or share.  You speak clear through to my heart … in so many ways!

My wise and wonderful friend, I marvel at your unwavering commitment to inspire others and support them in unwrapping the gifts that are tucked into the trials and tribulations in their own lives.  In fact, I immediately thought of you when I recently came across a beautiful affirmation written by my mentor Debbie Ford.  It occurred to me that it so aptly mirrors your beautiful beingness …

And so, with this tribute, I thank you for the brilliant, bright glow you cast upon this planet!  I want you to know that I am so much better because of your presence in my life … both then and now. You are such a beautiful person … in the most meaningful sense of that word.  I know that you are a gift of grace to so many people … and … I really do hope that you receive as much  light and love as you so generously offer to the rest of us! ❤

With deepest appreciation for all the beautiful ways that you and our life long friendship has inspired me,  Love Karen xoxo

P.S. It strikes me that we still look a lot alike … even without the off-white fisherman knit! 🙂

Better Because of Your Good Heart … Kimmy!

First time I recall meeting her … we were interviewing her for a job.  She arrived dressed like one of Mattel’s Barbie dolls.  ‘Travel Barbie’ if my memory serves me correctly.  🙂

It  was priceless … watching my boss try to seriously navigate the interview process in order to determine “Barbie’s” professional suitability for the position of a Parenting & Family Coach in our agency.  Between her engaging giggles, this light hearted soul in the long dark wig explained she had just come from her daughter’s Halloween party at school … and … things had gone longer than expected. She didn’t have time to go home and change, so … she came as she was.  It was a daring choice, leaving her wide open for unfavorable first impressions and/or critical judgment …

It didn’t matter … her good heart shone right through the costume.  And she got the job. And she deserved it.  And better yet, we got her!  And we have never been more fortunate, because not only is she phenomenal in her work, but she is one of the most loving, kind-hearted people to ever grace this planet.

You FEEL the sweetness of her good heart in her presence.  She reflects ‘loving-kindness’ as clearly as the sunshine bouncing off the facets of a brilliant diamond.  Her sparkle is undeniable and people are simply drawn to her bright and joyous spirit.  And she is so darn funny.  Oh my gosh, her presence in our workplace sparks sheer delight.  When I worked alongside her, it felt like we laughed as hard as we worked.  Sometimes more.

Source Unknown but deeply appreciated!

Her real name is Kimmy … and yes, I thoroughly enjoy her existence in my world.  In fact, she so effortlessly draws people into her circle that she has “a team.”   I’m a bit ashamed to admit it, but I felt a little jealous … at first … when she spoke of the group of women in her life who were always there for each other … steadfastly rallying for one another at the drop of a hat.  At one point, I remember feeling like I got gypped because she had a team and I didn’t.

But then … if you wait long enough, the Universe always explains.  You see, our Kimmy was going to need a team.  She was going to need solid, reliable and unwavering support because … some brutal things were going to be laid before her … including the tragic loss of a child.  On June 8, 2011 her precious son, Brett, transitioned to another realm after an unforeseeable accident …

When Kimmy’s son passed over, she invited me to be on her team.  And I was so deeply honored to be included, because when someone is going through the fires of hell, you just want to help.  But you have no clue how.  Kimmy was good enough to guide us.  And she gifted us with responsibilities. And it felt so good to be able to support her in a meaningful way.  She requested that  each member of her team carry out specific tasks that best honored our unique skills, talents and strengths … e.g., the organized ones screened phone calls and scheduled appointments; the ones with culinary gifts made food; the ones who liked writing helped her put words to what was in her heart for the eulogy;  and so on.

Yes … and then … this amazing woman stood before us and inspired a community center filled with people while she delivered her son’s eulogy herself.  And she inspired us with both her tender, touching message and her innate flair for presentation.  Her beautiful humor shone through to our hearts and we smiled and we cried and we felt it all.  We felt the indescribable ache in her tattered and torn heart.   Yes we did.  And we felt the sheer beauty of her sweet soul … reaching clear down into our own … inviting us to join her in celebration of the blessings and miracles her son had gifted not only to her  – but also to so many others.

And she has been honoring her own healing process by openly, honestly and vulnerably sharing her spiritual journey with others.  She lovingly reminds us on a Facebook page entitled “Shift Happens”  that although ‘sh*t happens’ to all of us … we can use it to transform/shift our lives in favorable ways.  I hope you will make a little time to explore the unpretentious wisdom she has gleaned from her own experiences and allow it to lighten any darkness in your days and/or bring solace to any tender parts of your own soul. I, myself, have been deeply moved by her brilliant insights and heartfelt sharing.

Kimmy, I want you to know that my life has been infinitely better because of you … both personally and professionally.  You warm my heart on a regular basis. And because of you, I did some team building! I invited people to be on my team!  It strikes me that everyone should have a team to help them through the bumpiest part of their paths.  Thank you for inspiring that. I could go on and on highlighting the countless ways you have brightened my world just by being you … but at this particular moment … I feel more inclined to use the rest of this space to extend an invitation.

A little while ago, Kimmy’s husband Greg was diagnosed with cancer.  And although he has been well on his way to a return to good health, I can only begin to imagine how vulnerable one feels on the heels of that kind of news.  I invite whoever is reading these words to join me in continuing to hold space for Greg’s optimal well-being.  I invite those of you who have just met Kimmy through this blog to join those of us who already know her, Greg and their lovely daughter Taylor by energetically wrapping them all up in a warm blanket of love and light.  You can just never get enough of that kind of thing … 🙂

Kimmy …. may your whole family feel the tingles of love in these heartfelt intentions and may you intuitively sense our unwavering support in every breath you take … for now and always.

I love you bunches … Karen

 

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Kindness Stopped This Homeless Man From Committing Suicide

THIS is such a touching story. We can never know whose life could be better … simply because of us … because we showed some kindness.

Kindness Blog

Today I went to Dunkin (Donuts) and saw a clearly homeless guy singing on the side of the road and picking up change.

Eventually I saw him stroll into Dunkin, as he was counting his change to buy something I began to get super annoying and talk to him over and over again even when he didn’t really want to talk.

Since he had maybe $1 in change I bought him a coffee and bagel and asked him to sit down with me.

He told me a lot about how people are usually very mean to him because he’s homeless, how drugs turned him into the person he hated, he lost his mom to cancer, he never knew his dad and he just wants to be someone his mom would be proud of (along with another hours worth of conversation.)

This lovely man’s name was Chris and Chris was…

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