On the eve of 42… Goodbye Cheers to 41… a year of coping, grieving, and finding my path towards healing. I’m so thankful for the little family I love and to my friends for helping hold me up when I stumbled this year!! I’m so thankful to my core crew who encouraged me to find my peace and see the joy in rediscovering adventure 🩷🩵🩷
I’m so thankful to those who see the best in me even when I’m struggling.
I’m so thankful to the few I’ve grown close to this year and the safe place they offer me when I’m struggling and when I’m thriving.
When you think you’ve got the grief handled it rears its head after a week of happiness. It knocks you down when you feel like yourself. You can’t float because it has a way of taking the wind from your sails and the worst part is you can’t figure out why it comes like this.
I was told the best thing to do is sit with the grief. Feel it. Embrace it. I can tell you at 5 am just days before my 42 birthday I don’t want to feel it.. I want to shake it. I want to feel like I did on better days this week. I want the sunshine to come back. I want to drink coffee with people I love. I want to laugh. I want to feel the sparks of life. I want to feel like me.
I think in reality it never goes away. Grief is like a chronic illness we will live with the rest of our lives. Sometimes the pain subsides but the symptoms always come back.
I can tell you it’s shitty.
I guess maybe the grief is a reminder to really embrace the good stuff. A reminder to really hold on to the people who make you feel loved and safe. A reminder to sit down and listen to those stories, Really hear the words. Memorize the sound of their voice. Trace the shape of those faces into your mind as you listen to them talk.
None of this life is anything we get to keep forever… Embrace the little moments, hug a little longer. Let the sunshine days recharge your soul so you’re strong enough to weather the mornings you wake up with dread.
It’s Bandit’s rescue-aversary!! 2 years ago today this beautiful girl and her brothers were rescued in Mexico and everyday I’m eternally grateful that this girl is my girl. I truly don’t know what I’d do without this sweet soul by my side!! I’ve never experienced a bond with another creature (animal or human) like the bond I share with her. She was my soft spot to land during my profound season of loss. Through a season of gut wrenching heartbreak she found her way to me and was there to love. Without words she’s helped paw my heart back together. Without words she reminds me daily what love means. She reminds me to find time to play, to smell the smells and to love our boys with annoying enthusiasm. She is without a doubt one of the bright spots in my life that keep me going.
A quiet breakfast alone on what would have been Dad’s 79th Birthday. My main reflection is how thankful I am for all those mornings he sat across from me and we had breakfast together. In the last two years those breakfasts were always his best moments of the day. Our breakfast conversations always had moments and meaning I will treasure forever. Even tho those two years were the absolute hardest of both of our lives I’m so thankful he was here at home with us. I’m so thankful for all those quiet breakfasts together. Happy heavenly Birthday Dad!
Deep breath friends…. The finish line is right there!! Many of you know that Christmas is my absolute favourite but this is my first Christmas without either of my parents and I’m not going to lie to you…. I’ve been feeling all the feelings. I’ve definitely found moments of joy and festive fun but I’ve also felt sadness and emptiness. I’ve found myself finding nostalgia in all the things and embracing the whole season as best I can. Here’s your reminder that joy and grief can absolutely coexist. It’s ok to be sad and it’s ok to enjoy the season… im over here doing both simultaneously and im ok ❤️
It makes me think of you. It makes me think of those days in that little farmhouse. That roaring warm fire in that old wood stove. Those cheery yellow curtains that hid the sadness. The smell of a fresh cut Christmas tree mixed with brewed coffee and cigarette smoke. Those red Christmas balls. The way you made sure to make it magic no matter what was going on in real life.
Things I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I close my eyes and they are there, you’re there. We’re all there. In that house. Time forever frozen in my mind.
I’m a firm believer in the old saying “Everything happens for a reason.” A handful of years ago I found myself drawn to all things vintage Christmas and became very nostalgic for things that were part of my childhood Christmases. Of course given that I’m 41 a lot of those trinkets are no longer around. Tho certain things vividly stand out in my memory. The tinsil garlands that used to hang on our living room ceiling, the plastic holly candle ring that sat on the coffee table and my mothers purple mercury glass beaded cross. I remember her always putting it on the tree herself and it always had to go on last. This ornament brought her joy. Unfortunately when I was about 8/9 I remember it coming apart and being tucked away but never repaired. Since she died I found myself searching online for a beaded cross. This past week I stumbled on a lady selling a huge lot of vintage ornaments. I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask if I could purchase just the one. I told her my story and she agreed to sell it to me. I received it today with the sweetest note from the seller. While this isn’t my Mom’s exact ornament having this little piece brings me comfort. It’s a tangible reminder of Christmases past and it reminds me of her ❤️
The idea of loss and grief is something we learn about at a very young age but it’s something I’m not sure we ever fully understand at any age. Before I lost my parents I experienced all kinds of grief. Starting from a young age losing pets. I remember feeling extreme sadness as a child when I learned my friend who lived across the street every summer had lost her mother in a car accident. I remember the sadness and the confusion as a seven year old when my grandfather passed and again as a teen losing my much loved uncle to suicide.
I didn’t think I was a stranger to grief. Hell I took an entire unit in university on dying, death and grieving. What I failed to realize until this week was the dynamic effects of grief. The way it would be tangible. I didn’t realize I’d taste it, smell it, feel it physically. I never thought about the fact I would hold my grief in my hands., I never realized my grief would become not only a feeling but an emotion that would take over in even the most mundane and obscure moments.
My grief has found its way into the very back of my memory card catalog so to speak. Surfacing memories I didn’t even realize I held. The way my Mom would quietly tiptoe around the cabin on summer vacation to make a pot of coffee and toast. She needed her coffee but didn’t want to wake the rest of us so early. The way the mixture of fresh coffee and cigarette smoke was my normal morning scent greeting at home and at the cabin. The way she’d always tuck one leg under her and pull her other knee up to her chest and stretch her nightshirt around her legs as she sipped her coffee and smoked her morning cigarette. This morning I tiptoed through the cabin to make myself toast and sat at the table listening to my little family snore. I imagine that’s exactly the sound she was listening to all those mornings.
When my brother opened my Dad’s fishing tackle box a couple weeks ago I was instantly transported back to standing on the shore of Dry lake. The smell of that tackle box is a lifetime of memories. It’s tangible and I can touch it, smell it. It’s a literal box of memories and grief. It’s bittersweet.
Yesterday at the Bridge-lake fair I caught myself frozen, staring at a piece of lemon meringue pie that if I didn’t know better thought my momma had made. It’s moments like that no one warns you about. No one told me a hunk of pie was going to punch me in the gut one sunny summer Sunday afternoon. No one told me a day later I’d regret not having eaten the pie to see if it was anything like the ones I spent my childhood enjoying. No one talks about these moments but I think they are normal. I doubt I’m alone in these experiences. Obviously everyone’s grief is different but in my circles no one really talks about it at all. Why are we weathering this alone?
I hear my parents voice in my head sometimes. Standing in front of a rustic miners cabin at 108 ranch I heard my Dad chuckle and announce “there’s a little shanty I could afford!!”. Without hesitation I glanced around knowing he wasn’t there but having to reassure myself this wasn’t all a bad dream and maybe he was there with us.
I heard my Moms voice urging Jacob “No deeper” as he swam in the crystal clear waters of Green lake. I heard her laughter every time I saw a chipmunk steal a nut and run as fast as his little legs could carry him. I felt her presence every time a dragon fly shared a moment with us in the past 10 days. I know physically they are gone but memory and grief are powerful things.
Today was the day… a day we’ve talked about for months. A day we feared, a day we knew we needed. Today was the day we gathered with friends and family and said our goodbyes to my parents. We celebrated their lives, ate their favourite food, hugged, laughed, cried, reflected, and were reminded that life is a gift and you only have a short time to enjoy it. Eat the damn cake. Smile at the flowers, love your people.
I couldn’t of got through today (the past few years actually) without a handful of amazing friends and the most dedicated husband ever ❤️ I am so incredibly thankful for my people and my dog!
The following are the words I shared at today’s celebration of life…if you do nothing else today make sure you hug your loved ones and let them know what they mean to you.
All the love we won’t ever forget…
I’d like to thank you all for being here with us on this beautiful summer day. This is exactly the kind of day Mom and Dad would of loved to have a yard full of people, Mom would happily get out a spread of crackers meat, cheese, pickled beets and Dad would direct one of us kids to get up a pot of coffee! So that’s what we are going to do in their honour today! We are here to celebrate their lives, their love, the memories and some of their favourite foods. But first I’d like to share a few words to my parents.
How do I condense a lifetime into a few minute speech? How do I condense 2 lifetimes into the same speech?
I don’t know but like my Momna and very unlike my Dad I’m wordy as heck so I’m gonna do my best!
To my Mother …. You were the most tenacious, driven, independent force I’ve ever known. You lived your life with dedication to those you loved. You had a big heart, a big voice and a big personality that didn’t match your tiny stature. I often thought your boldness and lack of fear was to combat your small size. But your bold fearless nature was what made you you. You were unshakable. You taught me that you could do anything you put your mind to. That I could do anything I put my mind to. You taught me to see things through to the end even if it was easier to quit or walk away. Finish what you start. Dust yourself off later. You taught me that it was okay to talk to strangers because strangers become friends. You taught me it was ok to stand up for myself. You taught me to use the best four letter words efficiently and You taught me to eat the damn cake. You taught me to live while I’ve got the chance.
I know so many of you hold amazing stories about my mothers antics. Like her wild ability to fix a broken down blazer in the parking lot of my elementary school as other Mom’s looked on both equally horrified and impressed. I know many of you remember her sending you home from a visit with bags of produce from her and Dads gardens! With jars of homemade jam, those Mile high apple pies, the magnificent lemon meringue pies she could make like no one else. Most of you at one time or another sat across the table from Carol and sipped coffee with her, smoked a cigarette with her. Answered a call from her to be greeted with “what ya doing?” You all Listen to her gush endlessly about her Grand babies. She loved being a grandma. She loved ferociously actually. Her whole life. She was loving and dedicated, stubborn and strong. That’s who she was … she was sassy, bold, love.
While my Mother was in fact a nonstop talker my Dad was not a man of many words. But my god he knew how to use those words when he wanted to!
To my Father…I always knew I’d be lost without you and as the end drew near earlier this year my heart broke before you even left us. I knew I’d have to spend the rest of my life using what you taught me just to get through it. From you Dad I learned the value of silence, I learned the importance of going for walks, you taught me the solace in spending time alone. From you I learned when to keep my mouth shut and I learned when it was worth telling somebody off to be sure to tell them all the way off!!! From you I learned the value of a witty one liner.
You were the embodiment of hard work. Your hands were never idle. You provided for our family and we’re always there to pick me up when I did something stupid. I still remember you running down the street when you realized the crash you heard was me rear ending a street cleaner (yes a street cleaner) a block from home. I remember you made sure I was ok and then an hour later you tossed me the keys to your van and made me get back on the proverbial horse and go driving. You were not a man who settled for mediocre in anything you did and you surely didn’t raise us to be mediocre. You taught us to always turn around and help the next person in line.
You’d help anyone who needed it. You didn’t ask for anything in return. I grew up watching you run towards car accidents to help strangers. You’d always pull over to see if you could help. You’d always offer up a few dollars in gas to get a stranded stranger back on the road. Acts of service were how you shared your love. In an emergency look for the helpers, be a helper that’s what you taught me because that’s who you were. You were an amazing helper, you were a giver, you were a quiet, dedicated hard worker. You were a great Dad and the most attentive Grandfather.
Together my parents taught me that life and love is tumultuous. They taught me that marriage is a commitment and it is work. They taught me to ride and not worry about the fall. They taught me to pick myself up and always help pick others up when they need it.
They were dedicated to a life together and when mom left us we saw exactly how strong that need to be together was. Dad was lost without her. He never stopped looking for her in that year apart. Even tho my heart is broken they are both gone I’m so incredibly thankful they are together again. I can just picture her smothering him with a kiss and him announcing “leave me alone!” But we all know he secretly loved every second of her love.
They were your friend, your family, your brother, your sister, they were dedicated, attentive parents and amazing Grandparents.
Here’s to two lives lived with dedication and love and to the solace that they are together in this eternity.
Life With The McGavins 