Last week, before the temperature went down to minus 15 C, I was walking along the pathway behind some of the homes in my subdivision. There were ducks swimming and resting in the creek (officially named Munson’s Slough) and along the banks of the creek. All of a sudden one duck started following me; then the whole waddle of ducks started following me for a fair distance. They didn’t scare me, but I didn’t want people to think I was feeding or somehow convincing them to stay close.
For a moment the thought of becoming the “Pied Piper of ducks” brought a smile to my face. Then just as I turned around to take a photo of my following, they stopped, and like children getting caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing, each duck turned slightly and began pecking at the ground.
And that was it for my new career path as a pied piper. The ducks lost interest and I was on my own again.
Foo has been a member of my son’s family for almost 15 years. On Tuesday Foo joined his best friend, Toffee, to whom I said a tearful and painful goodbye almost 4 years ago.
Saying goodbye to a pet was as difficult for me as losing a family member. When asked if I will get another dog, my answer for the past 4 years has been a definite “no”. I don’t want the responsibility of choosing death for another being.
I had a discussion about death of pets with my son and my sister last night. My sister is a farm girl from the prairies, and has even taken care of end-of-life decisions for her pets on her own instead of calling on the vet. It’s not something I could ever understand, unless I had lived her life.
Most of her pets did not live in the house, sleep in her bed, or become her whole focus of living, therefore choosing when they should be “put out of their misery” is very matter-of-fact for her. Toffee lived in my house, slept in my bed and did become a major everyday focus for me for 11 years!
Not long ago I had a good conversation with my friend who has worked at a care home for several decades. We were talking about death and the toll it takes on us. He said that it is easier on him when people are only in his care for a short time — not long enough for him to get attached.
In mom’s ward there are 16 beds; in the past few months at least 6 people have died…some after only a few days and others after several years. Of course mom doesn’t notice or remember these things, so the change has not affected her. And although the care staff continue on with their daily responsibilities like nothing has changed, I can’t imagine the toll that the constant loss must have on their hearts.
Yesterday my friend and colleague called to let me know that she had experienced a mini-stroke, and would need me to help out with some of the work we do together. We have been colleagues for many years, and work well together. We don’t socialize, but we often find time to have deep conversations either before or after rehearsals, or by email.
She told me last night that she was finally starting to get her life in order, exercising regularly, and had decided to start a weight loss program. Then she talked about how angry she was with herself that she didn’t start working on that when she was much younger. Could she have avoided the stroke if she was in better physical shape?
This was a reminder to me that we never know what tomorrow will bring. For now, make the most of each day. Don’t wait for that perfect moment to choose healthy living.
For me most mornings begin sitting in a comfy chair savouring a cup of strong coffee, looking east toward Black Mountain. It is here where I plan my day, and often chat with my children and friends. For the fall and winter months I am always up before sunrise, and love watching the change in the clouds and light as the sun rises. Some mornings the sky is especially beautiful — those mornings give me hope for a good day.
Several weeks ago I tried to write. My plan was to get my life in order and re-establish a routine. My life is not in order, and my plan is still in the pre-planning stage; that stage where I know there needs to be a plan but nothing stays in my mind long enough to figure it out.
Back in 2020 when I started this blog, the purpose was to provide myself with a daily distraction during the pandemic lockdown. Partly because I was lonely, and also as a way to not lose my mind. The writing gave me a focus. Each day I would go out walking and take some photos to choose from for the next day’s writing where I would reflect on the whatever the photo brought to mind. Times have changed and I have lost focus again.
I live in a small community within a larger city. There are 390 homes in here, and every occupant must be over the age of 45. I predict that the median age is about 88. Every month there are a few who pass on, and a few more who move away to their nursing home. I wonder if this will be my final home before the nursing home, although I hope that won’t be for another 30 years! I bought this lovely home from a couple who are now in retirement home where they no longer have to worry about yard work, cooking, dishes, etc.
We have mule deer. They like my back yard because I choose not to chase them away unless I am trying to grow flowers….then I watch out for the deer and make loud noises when I see them. During the cold winter months I have no edible flowers in my gardens and the deer are allowed to rest in the peace and quiet. The only vegetation this time of year is patchy grass, and evergreens, besides a few herbs which the deer won’t eat.
Yesterday there were 4 of them — the doe, one female yearling with a broken leg, one male yearling or young adult with a deformed antler, and one buck. The photo above is of the one with the broken leg. She rests for many hours while the others explore, and eat what they can find. The injured deer is resilient. She hasn’t given up and although the injury looks awful to us, and she rests more than the others, she keeps on surviving.
Four years ago I was excited to write every day, or at least a lot more often than once a month! Maybe that enthusiasm will come back when I have more to say and fewer distractions. Or maybe I’ll just rest a while longer.
Sunday morning I had the privilege to stay home and look after my son’s two dogs. It took a while for them to feel comfortable in my home, and I had to bribe them with early Christmas presents. Here, Gia is showing off her new toy to the little dog that just walked past. She spent quite a bit of time looking out at her new world!
That is the window where I spend time each morning looking out to watch the sun rise. I see geese flying, deer nibbling, coyotes hunting and dog-owners dutifully walking their dogs. There is one elderly gentleman who walks past daily, as fast as he can move, leaning forward and steadying himself with a cane. Another man walks briskly to and from his gym hour. There is a squirrel that scampers across the street between its two homes.
Monday morning I played the piano for a memorial service. The man who was being remembered was well-known in the community, so the place was packed. Over the years I have provided music, either piano or organ, for several hundred funerals and memorial services. One of the first services I played for at the age of 18 was an open casket funeral. Not only was the casket open, but they lifted the top part of the body so everyone could see his head. I glanced up at it mid-selection and felt myself starting to pass out. I remember taking some deep, slow breaths, and never looking up from my music again until it was over.
Sometimes I know the deceased; often they are strangers to me. I feel strongly that everyone, no matter what kind of life they lived, or what kind of eulogy is given, has had an impact on those around them. Every person deserves a grand send-off, and it has been my goal to help ensure that their wishes and their loved ones’ wishes are acknowledged as far as the choice of music is concerned.
Often while I am listening to the eulogies and reflections I think about my own life and the legacies I might leave behind. How will I be remembered? Beyond that, I know I have learned so much about life and living each day, yet I still struggle to keep sight of the most important things in life….until the next memorial service or funeral where I am again challenged to re-evaluate my priorities. It could quite easily become a struggle with ego — “that person was more perfect than I could ever be”.
When my father passed away 3 years ago I didn’t play. I couldn’t play. But, one of the hymns that was chosen was “How Great Thou Art”. My dad’s name is Art (Arthur). Do you have any idea how many times we sang his name??? 17 times to be exact. Is that why someone thought it was his favourite hymn? By the end of the hymn most of the family were giggling. Dad lived a long, very fulling and rewarding life, having a positive impact on all who crossed paths with him.
Dad’s life, and the lives of so many others I have helped to honour is something I often contemplate in the mornings while watching my world wake up outside my window.
I bought a plant. It’s very much like me. When the leaflets are touched they fold inward; when the branches are touched they droop. It is hypersensitive to touch and movement.
This past Sunday afternoon two young men came to the house to rehearse for an upcoming concert. It was a wonderful afternoon, with hard work and laughter and beautiful music. On Monday morning I was very surprised to see the purple flower blooming on the mimosa. I believe it was in response to the atmosphere on Sunday.
Of course I could be wrong, but I have heard that plants respond well when spoken to, so perhaps they also like to be sung to. I think I could bloom as well of I am not touched, but am surrounded by music. (just maybe not purple!)
Fifteen years ago yesterday I married a man who loved me more than I could ever ask for. He had total trust in me, and loved me unconditionally. I doubt if that opportunity would ever come again. At his memorial service his best friend quoted in the eulogy:
‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam
At the time I didn’t agree, and I think that that lack of faith or trust is still with me. I would have rather not experienced the pain of losing someone whom I loved so much.
Yesterday I bought myself some roses to commemorate our anniversary. Michael was over-the-moon happy that day 15 years ago–we were both happy! Only a few days later we found out that his brain tumour had tripled in size, and 3 1/2 months later he passed away. And now as I get older I realize that even if I allow myself to fall in love again, there will never be a chance for a long term relationship; there just simply aren’t enough years left.
This morning I stayed home to participate in The Hatch, a monthly gathering of over 200 people who are connected through their interest in journalling. Many people, like the founder, Suleika Jaouad struggle with chronic illness; others have joined (as I did) shortly after its start during the Covid shutdown.
Today I chose to write about something in my life that has sat unused for too long. The prompt was to write about how I could repurpose it — where it has been, what it means to me and what it could become.
Many objects in my home sit unused for far too long, but today I am thinking about a large, blank sketchpad and a case of drawing pencils. Each pencil is a shade of black or grey, of varying thickness and darkness. The Sketchpad and pencils have sat in my den of every house I’ve owned over the past 20 years.
Around twenty years ago my youngest child bought them for me as either a birthday or Christmas present. She listens when people speak and had heard me talk about winning an art contest as a child and how I once enjoyed drawing and painting. She was hoping this gift would inspire me to work less and spend more time enjoying something create–something that isn’t music, since music is also my work.
The sketchpad and pencils sat unused for many years until when in 2022 when I started therapy in an attempt to pick up the broken pieces that was my life. My counsellor asked me to find a large piece of blank paper for our first session. I was asked to draw and label a diagram in order to explore my core values.
I return to this diagram often to review some of the truths that I discovered, and frequently rediscover.
return — review — record — rediscover
The sketchpad itself reminds me of my daughter’s love for her mother; of her abundant compassion, empathy and understanding; her patience and occasional lack of patience as she reminds me that there is more to life than working and people-pleasing.
The sketchpad and pencils could become a way for me to unwind. They could become a way to record what is on my mind, or things that I observe. They could become a way of journalling with no words, or few words. The sketchpad could become less blank. It could become a collection of sketches or artwork that I might find meaningful; a diary of my thoughts.
Whatever it becomes, it will no longer be a lonely collection of blank pages.
Early Monday morning I sat in my living room watching the sun rise, and was witness to a scene straight out of National Geographic! The doe and the coyote (so large I at first thought it must be a wolf) were engaged in some sort of stand-off.
Even though there is a strict rule in our “village” that cats must stay inside and dogs need to be always on a leash, I know that sometimes people let their dogs out briefly to water the lilies, without a leash. At first I was concerned about my favourite dogs in the neighbourhood. The deer and coyote chased each other up and down the street, then disappeared for a while. Maybe the coyote was looking for rodents.
About a half hour later, they returned, keeping their distance from each other. Soon too many humans were out on their morning walks and the coyote disappeared. Shortly after that I ran outside, no longer afraid, to chase the mother deer and her young twins away from my garden buffet. That’s when I noticed one of the twins limping badly, not able to put any weight on her front leg. It appeared to be broken in two places, most likely the result of being hit by a vehicle.
That’s when it hit me that the doe was trying to distract the coyote from the injured youth, and not that they were playing. Of course a healthy deer is not afraid of a coyote, but an injured deer would be in grave danger.
Since moving in to my new home last March I have gone through a range of emotions when it comes to the deer. They are magnificent creatures….but hours of hard work in the garden can be ruined in a few minutes by the hungry animals. I no longer allow them to sleep in my backyard, whereas in July when my grandsons were visiting from Germany we spent lots of time watching quietly as they grazed and rested in the yard. Monday I was saddened to watch the poor young deer struggle; I wasn’t happy to hear others callously comment “it’s the circle of life”.
This morning the street is quiet, but it’s early and pre-dawn. I am watching out my front window, waiting to see what excitement today might bring.
Many epiphanies happen in the mornings, either while gardening or in the shower. Yesterday, while in the shower, I came to the realization that I have created a boundary-monster. My boundaries involving a relationship are so solid and inflexible that they have become high walls. I started to search articles and videos that explained the difference between boundaries and walls.
One explanation compared our lives to a lovely rose garden. If we have no boundaries, then dogs or vandals can come in and destroy. (In my real garden, it’s the deer that come in and destroy!)
Back to the rose garden–if we put up high, solid walls, the sun cannot reach the roses, and people can’t enjoy the beauty of the garden, since they are not allowed in. (This is where I am in that relationship right now.)
With healthy boundaries–appropriate fences and gates–others can enjoy the garden, the sun can shine in and the garden (i.e. our life and relationships) can thrive.
This past spring I moved to an adult community of about 390 homes. Everyone who lives here must be at least 45 years old. It’s a lovely, quiet community with rules; three pages in fact, and more each month. My sister and her husband had moved in here 3 years ago, so my decision to buy this house was a tough one. My sister does not normally understand boundaries, therefore I had to make mine very clear to her (fortunately my brother-in-law understands me very well!) without building a wall. It was difficult at first, and she struggled with the idea that she was not allowed to tell me what to do with my house, yard or life. Things are better now! We look after each other’s homes and yards when necessary. We help each other with work around the house, and with caring for mom. The sunflower in the photo above which is reaching toward the sky was growing in my sister’s garden. She has a bird netting around her garden of tomatoes, beans and sunflowers to keep the deer out, since the rules state that no permanent fencing is allowed. The deer roam and feast freely.
In two other areas of my life I have not yet established a proper fence or netting. In my relationships, especially with the friend mentioned in my previous post, I have built such a thick, high wall that I have probably scared him off. There is currently no door in that wall. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to crack it open a little bit.
In the other area of my life–work–I have once again said “yes” to too many requests, and am regretting some of the commitments I have made. My desire (need?) to help has got in the way of my better judgement. I really have chosen to retire, but without the ability to say “no” to either exciting new projects or requests to save the music program at a church, I am now in a very difficult situation that is causing anguish in my daily life. That is the discussion going in my head throughout the day and half the night. Why did I take this on? How can I get out of it? How can I set boundaries now that I’m in the middle of it? The rose garden of my life is getting trampled.
The sunflower really has nothing to do with this constant balancing act that goes on in my head every day, but I am certain it would not have reached that height without the netting to keep the deer out of her garden.
Reflections 