Reflections

Left behind

Many years ago, my daughter’s roommate left this beautiful vase behind when she moved out of our home. I loved it the first time I saw it, but because at that time it wasn’t mine, I could only look at it! Years after the roommate moved out, I tried to return it to her, but she didn’t recognize it. How could someone not remember an object this beautiful?!

I love the smooth, round shape. It is made of wood, probably hand-made. The soft brown colour reminds me of walks in the forest.

Today I have been thinking of how easy it is to forget about items that are so precious to others. The same goes for people…how often do we meet someone then quickly erase them from our memory.

I have taught probably close to a thousand students in my 40+ years of teaching private lessons, but I could probably only name about 50. Some study for a month or two, others have been with me for years. I remember many of the them by name, while some I can only recall the circumstances.

One such child was a student of mine for about 4 months. I don’t remember her name, although I do remember her father’s restaurant, and the swing in her back yard where she would go before and after our lessons. Her mother had died and her dad wanted to give her the very best of everything. Unfortunately, the trauma of losing her mom caused this precious child to stop talking. After 4 months of absolute silence from her, I realized that I couldn’t help her, and gave up.

I don’t know how the wooden vase took me to that young child, but it did.

Science project

The first piano student this past Friday arrived to her lesson with her science project. I wanted to see her demonstrate her creation but we had too much work to do on her piano pieces.

Teaching piano gives me a chance to peak into the lives of so many young, creative and curious children. Many of the students are eager to share their experiences, their joys and sorrows. I hear of new kittens, new puppies, obnoxious class-mates, field trips, birthday parties, life events, exhausted parents, annoying siblings. And I see their excitement at accomplishing what at first looked like an impossible new technique or new piece.

The purpose of this particular science project was to demonstrate the power of wind. I didn’t have a chance to ask what the Q-tip attached to the front was for. Maybe next Friday I can find out.

Duck, duck, goose

Yesterday my friend convinced me to join her on a walk to the nearby park to feed the ducks. She would bring some bird seed, and she was very excited to show me her newly discovered hobby! Of course, the first thing I did was search for the city’s bylaws for restrictions on feeding wild creatures. Apparently we can feed the ducks in that park, as long as we didn’t try to feed seagulls, pigeons and squirrels.

Not only did our small handfuls of seeds attract the ducks, but also crowds of people fascinated by the eagerness of these mallards, widgeons (new to me!) and geese to scamper so close to us in order to grab a seed or two. We even had a peacock venture close. I was too awestruck to take a photo of him….

This is the first day of a 100-day challenge from the Isolation Journals. 100 days of creativity. I have chosen to spend 10 minutes every day–choose a photo from the day(s) before and write about it.

Simplify, simplify, simplify

When people walk into my living room they are presented with a music studio. I have a piano, an electric organ, a TV table with 4 boxes of music books in current use, and a desktop computer, a dining table covered with piles of books and papers, two chairs, no couch, no TV, no coffee table.

My work life is not simple. As a freelance musician nothing is predictable week to week. Daily routine does not happen easily since the necessary activities of each day are different.

So today a light went on — I need to simplify my activities, not my things. Things can be sorted and simplified later. My life needs to slow down. At any moment I have at least a dozen “projects” going on.

Looking forward to slowing down and enjoying walks and peaceful moments.

If you were to let go of three things before bedtime tonight, what would they be? What would you gain by letting them go?

That was the journalling prompt which got me started on this post. I have been working on this post and my plans for a few weeks now, and have made progress. Last week I notified one of my colleagues that he would need to find someone to replace me in September, since my last week of teaching his students would be near the end of May. Also on Sunday I let the contact person at a church know that they would need to find a different musician to sub the next time their new organist was out of town. This afternoon will be my final rehearsal at the university.

Gradually I am whittling away at the busy-ness of my life. It feels good. I will get through this.

What we leave behind

My maternal grandmother, Hazel was a beautiful, talented and amazing woman. With her positive spirit she taught by example how to love while showing incredible patience and strength. When she died, at the age of 100, I was able to keep one of her three detailed maps that she had drawn in high school. My mother had all three framed. One map was of Europe, one of North America, and the one I received was of Asia, but included some of the middle-East and Europe as well as the Asian countries.

This map was drawn in 1911, when Grandma was 16 years old and living in Vancouver. The detail is quite elaborate, indicating mountains, deserts and rail lines, along with the borders of the countries and lakes and oceans. She was careful with the printing, to keep it neat and readable. Grandma showed more of her artistic talent in later years with her paintings, leather work and knitting. She had a keen eye for detail.

For many years between high school and the time she got married, grandma worked for a steamship company. Often when items arrived, but were not claimed or picked up, she was able to take them. I don’t know if they were sold at a cheaper price or given away. One such item that I inherited from her is an old hand carved chest; most likely from Thailand (Siam in those days) or another country in Asia.

Grandma lived with her mother until she was 35 and got married. In those days women who were married didn’t work, so she gave up her job. I remember many times when she would tell that she dreamed of travelling on the ships and seeing countries around the world. As a loyal daughter and later as a wife, she stayed close to home and helped out as expected. But, when I was young and heading off on my own adventures, Grandma would cheer me on and encourage me to explore.

The framed map is hanging in my hallway upstairs. I often stop to look at the map and search for countries to see how much has changed since 1911. The borders are different. The names of many countries are different; some no longer exist. I am saddened by the thought that Grandma didn’t have a chance to travel far. One trip we took together when I was about 10 was a bus trip from Kelowna to Vancouver. That was a special trip for me — I got to spend time alone with the one person in my life who seemed to understand me and who has been an inspiration for me.

Dad

I started writing this post on November 25, 2021, the day after Dad died. All I had was the title. This is what I want people to know about my dad.

Today (June 24) would have been his 91st birthday. I haven’t decided yet how I would celebrate or honour his birthday. Last night I started planning a trip across Canada with my daughter. Maybe that’s a starting place to keep dad’s memories alive!

Dad was always seeking a new adventure. Don’t get me wrong — stability for our family was important, but he aimed to provide experiences for us. Each summer we did something special. Often it was renting a cabin out at the lake and spending our days exploring the shores and the lake with our canoe, or small motor boat. We learned to water-ski, we caught lots of fish for mom to cook for dinner. We hiked along the rocks. We learned how to use an outhouse while holding our breath for as long as we could. We learned how brave the hungry chipmunks would become if we could stay still long enough for them to venture onto our arms.

One summer we took a camping trip across Canada. Dad bought and prepared a tent trailer, and after months of gathering maps and brochures from every city and town along our way, we set off on our 6 week trip. Dad was determined to make this a memorable trip where we could learn as much as possible about our country.

Dad was a believer in life-long learning, and life-long service to community. After his early retirement (following the death of my brother) dad very quickly became involved in volunteer work. I am sure feeling useful was a large part of how he worked through his grief.

Dad was patient and kind. He was our high-school principal for most of my years in high school. I realized just how kind, patient and respected he really was after he left the high school and we got a new principal.

For years I didn’t speak to my father, or my mother, or really anyone else. I was a very shy and quiet child, content to go unnoticed. Later, when I was in my 30s I started to go to him when I needed help. And then we started travelling together. Every summer for he past 20 years we went on a trip, exploring Canada as well as countries in Asia and Europe, often going on cruises and sometimes just driving. In the past few years during the pandemic it was not convenient to travel far, so we explored Vancouver Island together. His last trip was in September 2021, when he spent several days with me. He was tired from a year and a half of staying home and caring for mom. I was shocked at how much he had slowed down physically, yet he was still sharp mentally and just loved the sight-seeing and meeting new people.

This is only a snapshot of what I want people to know and remember about my dad. Happy Birthday. I wish you were here.

Sucker punch

The physical pain was real. It was sudden, gut-wrenching and mixed with a tidal wave of emotions. Why did my sister have to mention his name in a random text, letting me know that he was at my grandmother’s funeral 24 year ago? Some things are better just left unsaid.

The abuse started even before we married. I was a single mother of 4, with no income, and unable to work because of a move from a different country. He was my saviour, and only man in the world who would stoop so low as to “take me on” and take care of me and my children. The brain-washing and gaslighting was constant; I was vulnerable and unable to sort out what was going on. I just figured I deserved the beatings.

It took a long time for me to gain the self-confidence and strength to leave him. I wish I had left him sooner, or that we hadn’t met at all. But no amount of wishing is going to change anything, or erase the past.

Revealing

The clock said 4:23. I don’t know if it was the cat crying outside that woke me, or the nightmare. That dream was vivid–and was the kind of dream that stays with me all day.

The airport in my dream was crowded, although nothing even close to what I experienced on Boxing Day. I don’t know where I was headed, and I doubt that my destination even matters. People were quiet, keeping to themselves although starting to form lines to board their flights. Then all of a sudden I looked up and almost every person that I could see was maskless. I looked around to try to figure out why everyone would have taken their masks off. In the distance I saw my brother who had also removed one of his two masks, but was hesitant to go totally naked. I was the only one wearing a mask. People were starting to chat with each other, and neglected to maintain physical distance.

Someone commented that it was for a group photo. But when cameras were put away only a few people replaced their masks. It was like the whole country had been given permission to return to the previous “normal”. I’m not ready for that.

Lately I have made a decision to cut back on most of my work beginning this June, when the school term ends. With predictions of the pandemic becoming endemic there will be the lightening of restrictions in the community, in the schools and every place where I have been working outside of my home. I have been considering my comfort level of being in a room with many other people, either talking or singing, without masks or social distancing. These thoughts bring fear and anxiety. I want to minimize potential exposure to any illness.

Or, is that really my fear — the illness? I have come to appreciate the anonymity that the mask provides. Most people don’t take the time to really look into your eyes when the mouth and half of the face is covered. The mask provides that barrier and the distance that I certainly have grown to value.

When I am wearing a mask I can cry and no-one really notices. I can smile or frown, keeping my eyes steady. Again, nobody notices. And when you are wearing a mask people tend to keep their physical distance as well. It’s like the mask is a reminder that we still need to be careful. A protective barrier. Life without a mask will require significant change in what has become very normal behaviour for me.

Dreams that stick with me throughout the morning and sometimes throughout the day and many days beyond can reveal a lot about what is really going on deep inside.

Timing

November 24, 2021…..the day dad passed.

One week ago today dad was in agony at the hospital. The 72-hour ward was over capacity, with many patients kept out in the hallways because not enough beds in rooms were available. Nurses often came 1 to 2 hours after being called. Medication was delayed so the pain was intense. We were told that preparing papers for a transfer to hospice care was in the process, but two days before that were we told that they had been filed. The ”transition liaison” stated, loud enough for dad, his roommate and family, and for us to hear that ”we didn’t expect him to survive the night so filing was delayed”. The move to hospice was a positive move in that dad would be cared for lovingly by nurse whose sole purpose was to make the final days as comfortable as possible for the patient and the family.

I have spent each night this past week sleeping on a cot in dad’s room. Each hour a nurse comes in just to check on dad, and every four hours he is given some medication. Sleep has not been great, but I am getting through the nights, knowing that in the morning someone will come and stay with dad so I can go home for a shower and a short break. ”Home” is my parent’s place where mom greets me each time with ”what are you doing here?” ”where have you been?” ”why is dad in hospice?” Poor mom no longer remembers much, but as soon as she is reminded of dad’s condition and what is going on, she wants to know what will happen to her.

And so my sister and her husband are in a tough spot. They have promised mom that they will live with her ”forever”. The day of dad’s stroke they were moving furniture into their new home a few blocks away. This is a new home they will most likely never occupy. Lots of questions lie ahead, and decisions will be made when the time is right. Several months ago my sister and her husband decided that they needed to sell their acreage and move closer to mom and dad since dad was getting tired and needed help caring for mom. Because of mom’s dementia and very stubborn spirit, a move into a care home would not be a suitable option at this time. Plus the Covid-19 pandemic has reinforced the idea that living communally in one’s senior years might not be the safest plan.

As my sister said, everything fell into place. Usually with the sale of an old home and purchase of a new home, along with the logistics of packing, downsizing and moving three provinces away, there are often many hurdles to overcome. Not this time. Everything fell into place.

And each morning I wake up (actually I wake up several times an hour during the night….) wondering what will happen to dad today? Each morning brings new discoveries about the dying process, reactions of each family member, the wonderful care of the nursing staff. Dad keeps breathing. Today there is no evidence of consciousness or response to voices, noises, music or motion. Is it his last morning? Or is he going to continue to confound the nurses and defy death. Is it his stubborn determination to complete his work and stay true to his promises? Is it his fear of the unknown and what happens after death? Or is it his timing, God’s timing?

Birds at the window

Each room here at Hospice House has a little bird feeder outside one of the windows. I noticed that birds were constantly at the feeder across the hall, in Michael’s old room. Dad’s feeder had no birds visiting at all until a few minutes ago. I wonder if he could hear the chirping. I wonder why all of a sudden the birds came.

I also wonder how much weaker a person could possibly get before leaving this physical body. The breathing is weak and the pauses are getting longer, but he keeps on breathing again. Is he waiting for my brother to arrive? That will be at least 5 more hours. Dad is putting up such a strong fight.

When Michael was dying he reminded me to keep the curtains open so that he could leave. This was several days before he actually did leave. On that final morning, the curtains were open. Dad has given no instructions. He was doing everything possible in his life to make sure he could look after mom, and not have to die before she did. Mom is scared of life without dad and requires constant reassurance that my sister will stay with her. Dad knew that she would feel that way, and he worked so hard to make sure he stayed strong and healthy, but at the same time keeping his records in order.

There are many things I have learned in these past two weeks — many things I need to say and have written down so that when decisions need to be made, there will be no question or confusion, nor disagreement among family. My sister and I are in total agreement over many things, but my brother is not. Here are some of my thoughts and desires:

Keep me covered when in hospital
I don’t want my life prolonged if what I have is terminal, or if there is permanent severe brain damage (i.e. I am unable to communicate)
Physical limitations are okay, but if my mental capacity is gone, then palliative is best
Hospice is my preference, to keep family and friends sane
When visiting, keep numbers low and talking to a minimum. Say what needs to be said, but incessant chatter is discouraged
Visitors should be kept to immediate family, cousins and close friends. I’ll leave a list somewhere
I like listening to music, but check my Spotify and YouTube to see what are my current favourites. Classical, Baroque and jazz are nice, but I also like pop music
More will be added as time goes on…….

When I die I want people to party. Drink a toast to me; many toasts to a life full of adventures, restarts, joys, learning. I generally don’t like big parties but I know that many people do, so I will be very happy to provide the reason to party.

The birds came back a second and third time to fight over the seeds. They are gone again….nope, they are just teasing us!