Hold my hand . . .

On Friday October 5 we got a phone call.   It was unexpected, but expected.  If that makes sense.  My husband's mom had been admitted to hospital.  It's traumatic hearing the words “dire” and “nothing can be done.”  Even though we knew what had been happening inside her body for several years, we were not emotionally prepared for that phone call.  Two weeks, three very long weekends, and she passed away.

As Jim and I walked together to and from the hospital on any of the numerous visits we made, we walked holding hands.  Falling into step with each other.  Regardless of how slow or fast we were walking or the number of curbs we had to step up onto or off of, it was always in step.  Holding hands.  Silently sometimes, most times.  Quietly trying to be supportive.

Through our seven and half years together there have been many ups and downs and struggles, but our hands always gravitate back to each other.  That touch of someone who promised to love you through everything.  In times where I have been the one struggling, he has been amazing.  Now, though, it's his struggle.  I am watching his heartbreak and grief and I feel completely useless.  There isn't a thing I can say or do that is going to make this better.

Sure she had a long life.  It was a blessed life too.  Seven children, numerous grandchildren and her first great-granddaughter this past February.  Sure she's no longer suffering, but that doesn't make it any less bearable.  We are going to miss her, deeply.  Our kids haven't quite grasped the finality of it and so we get to cope our way through their heartbreak as well as our own.   This is not an easy feat.  We both find ourselves crying and trying to answer questions so that they will understand on their terms.

We have had so many impromptu conversations that have our kids trying to comprehend what death is.  How do they reconcile what they are learning from the Bible in our home and at Sunday school with all they are learning about their grandmother's Buddhist beliefs and Chinese culture and traditions.  It's a lot even for me.  So I try to wade gently and carefully and with the utmost respect for my husband and his family's way of life.  I hope and I pray that I am doing it right, and if not right, then at least not so far off base that I disrespect anyone in any way.

I reach for his hand and I hold on tight.  I offer my shoulder and a tissue and a hug.  Pouring all the strength I have into him.  Holding on and holding him up.  Side by side, together, forever. 

Parting is such sweet sorrow . . .

China – the other side of the world practically!  That's where they went.   It's pretty amazing and I kind of think there might be a wee twinge of green.  I do not have the courage to do what they have chosen.  Or, I should say, what God has chosen for them to do.  To go and be teachers.

We met in 2008 and it felt like our hearts just kind of bumped into each other and went “friend.”   It is so much more than that.   Time and distance suck, but my heart knows that even as it is breaking because she is gone we are promised to see each other again.  And we will.  Be it two, three, or even four years from now.  And when we do see each other, we will have grown, but our hearts will know each other and I think it will be like no time at all has passed.

The other day, my Ava told me she was sad because she didn't have any friends.   I told her she had lots of friends, but we have things going on right now that make it hard to spend time with them.  She told me she wanted a play date with my friend's daughter.  My heart cracked a little and then smiled.  I had to explain that she would not get to play with her because she was in China and would not be back in Canada for a while.  My heart was smiling because I was just so glad that she was the one person Ava wanted to play with.

My hope, for all three of my children, is strong friendships that will last the test of time and distance.  Those are the best ones.  The ones where it doesn't matter how long it's been, you can just sit down and be in that moment of time.   Heartfelt and honest and open and safe.

I am so grateful for my friendships.  For the women who a part of my heart, forever.  Take me as I am and love me anyway.  True blessings in my life.

Magic Mittens Part Two

We are well into October.  It seemed fitting with the cooler weather to pull out the gloves, mittens, toques, and scarves.  There have been a few frosty, chilly mornings that have warranted a pair of mitts, at least.

As I pulled out my pink ones (my magic ones), it got me thinking.  At the end of September, we had our Terry Fox Walk and raised “Twonies for Terry” for the Terry Fox Foundation, and the Weekend to End Breast Cancer.   October brings us Breast Cancer Awareness and pink mittens.  You know the ones.  And, yes, I have written about them before.

Mine have definitely seen better days.  Some the yarn has escaped the finger creases and needs to be retied.  Some of the threads on the inside are coming loose and I need to restitch them.  All that said, they are still the warmest pair of mittens I own.

More than any of that, though, they make me think of her.  My dear friend.  A true heroine.  It's been a year since her diagnosis.  She has fought through surgery.  Drugs that have caused permanent damages to her nerves.  Radiation that had her suffering through excruciating pain from the burns.  She has more surgery to come.  More battle scars to wear – proudly.  She is so courageous.  My friend, sister of my heart.

On these anniversaries of Terry Fox, Weekend to End Breast Cancer, and her diagnosis, I put my magic mittens on and I think of her.  Dukes up and kick butt attitude and I smile.  How lucky am I that she is my friend.

So I do my best to be friend to her and support her in any way I can and hope that someday, the only time we see “cancer” is when we read about it in the history books.

I can buy “magic mittens” and send “Twonies for Terry” to school with my kids.  I can wear “Livestrong” bracelets and make donations and participate in the BC Generations Project.  On my own, none of these things will even be a drop in the bucket.  Together, with others, passionate and dedicated people, can we make a difference.

For now, I do my small part and proclaim loudly – she is my friend.  She is amazing.  She is a wife, a mom, a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, a niece, a fighter and a hero.  And I am so grateful she is a part of my life.


I am including the link for my first Magic Mittens post in case you feel like reading it again. 
 http://ramblingsfrommywalk.blogspot.ca/2012/02/my-magic-mittens.html