Reflections

Loneliness

Yesterday I came to the realization that I have no one I can talk to who can—or will—listen. Dad is gone. Mom can no longer remember, understand or follow a conversation. My siblings tend to judge, or tell me how I should live my life.

My children all have huge problems that they are dealing with, and it’s important that I am available to listen to them….not the other way around.

The man who wants to be more than a friend is totally incapable of stopping long enough to hear me, let alone really listen without judgement. He has many, many stories of his own that he needs to share. His own relationships with family and friends are all based on his need to step in and help. I don’t think he is prepared to be with someone who needs independence and desires freedom.

Lately I have been talking to my plants as I work in the garden, and even having conversations with the earthworms, apologizing to each one as I dig it out of the sod and re-home in the freshly churned soil.

Loneliness is now the result of putting up walls in order to hang on to my independence and freedom. It is the choice that I have made and have been working on for a long time, yet quiet nights lit up by the Harvest Moon emphasize the pain of loneliness. Moonlit nights are among the moments that are best when shared with a trusted companion.

Space

There are mornings where I can’t sleep in past 5:00 a.m. In fact, most mornings these days I am on my 2nd cup of coffee before the sun rises.

The photo above was taken on a particularly smoky morning last week. The wildfires burning in the north sent the smoke our way and helped create a magical golden sunrise.

When my mom had to move into a care home over a year ago and we sold her house, the important furnishings and other items were divided amongst three siblings and 8 grandchildren. There were two things I wanted to keep — an old grandfather’s clock and this rocking chair. I have no idea why I needed them, but they were important to me.

The mechanism in the died decades ago and was replaced by a battery that keeps time like a metronome. Tick tick tick tick…until the battery runs down. The rocking chair reminds me of my parents’ home. It was one of those pieces of furniture that was always in a corner of the room, seldom used. When guests came over, the last person to be seated would sit there. If enough other chairs were available then the rocking chair sat empty.

It continues to be vacant most of the time. I seldom have guests, and my living room is really a piano room with three chairs—rocking chair, lazy boy and antique armchair.

Much like my personal life, I have not created a space that allows “visitors”. It’s not that I don’t like people; I do like people and enjoy their company when I’m ready for it. But I want my own space to think my own thoughts and do my own thing.

For now I am making sure there is no space in my life or in my house for others to come in and take over again.

Waiting

We are both waiting. Gia is waiting for her owner, true love, master, food-giver, ball-thrower and only person in her world, to return and sit beside her. I’m waiting for my son to join me for pizza and a drink. (Yes, he is the same person for whom Gia is waiting, although he is not all of those things to me!)

How often are we just waiting for that perfect person, or that perfect time? Looking at my own life, I am still waiting for the perfect time to start doing the things I have been putting off. Things like drawing in my sketch book and using the beautiful pencils that were a treasured birthday about 17 years ago.

I remember the delicate dinnerware set that my father bought for my mother when I was a teen. These were so fragile that only mom could wash them, and only special guests could use them. They were kept in the large china cabinet along with heirlooms and other beautiful items that were for show….waiting for the day that was special enough to use them.

Over the years, as mom wore down, they were used less and less frequently, until one day she decided that family was special enough to be privileged to use these dishes. She stopped waiting for that perfect day and perfect guest.

Now it is my turn to stop waiting. Today might be the day I get my sketch book out even though I haven’t got my whole life figured out and organized. Or maybe I will drink tea from the heirloom teacups instead of using the dollar store mug. Maybe I should stop waiting for that perfect day. Maybe that day is today.

Home again

A week ago I was on my way home once again. I had decided to spend a week with my granddaughters in Saskatchewan, just a 2-day drive from here. When you do the math, 8 days away with 2 days driving each way, means there are only 4 full days to visit. And the 4th day was the day that they had planned to get away for one last weekend before pre-school started again.

It was a lovely 3 1/2 day visit, and well worth the drive. Sometimes I wonder if the drive is what I am looking forward to the most, or is it the visit….

My visit freed up my daughter to spend more time getting fully involved in the re-creation of Lion King. She now had a new role (new even to the original writers) of Iris, the wife of Timon. Timon and Iris had such a beautiful wedding, over and over again just to get it right.

The best part was watching Aletheia, who turns 4 tomorrow, imitate Mickey Mouse in the 1935 performance of the band concert. She sings the lead melodies or da-da-das the correct rhythm when it’s more important than the melody, and conducts with her Robin Hood arrow. (The arrow has a soft cloth ball instead of a sharp spear, which is much safer than a conductors baton at this point.) As long as she has an audience the show continues.

My biggest role in the 3 1/2 days of my visit, besides weeding the garden, was to watch, hug, kiss and cuddle the newborn. Cleo is one of the calmest babies I have ever held. She is even calm when she is not held, but that was a long way for me to travel just to watch a child be content. I understand that a grandmother’s job is to spoil a child just a little.

I reflected a lot on the differences between the two girls, as well as the similarities and differences between my babies. Not only do they have different temperaments from birth, and even before birth, but they were raised in different environments. Each child is so unique.

A week ago, on Sunday morning, I left Calgary very early to drive home. After the previous day of driving through prairie fields and straight roads the sight of the majestic Rocky Mountains was too much of a distraction. I stopped to eat breakfast, and to take in the beauty of the mountains. I grew up surrounded by the Purcell and Selkirk mountain ranges and even though they aren’t anything like the Rockies I feel at home in the mountains.

Home

I was sad to be leaving after such a short visit. On my last two days we drove to see the sights and spent time talking, exploring and planning.

Flight delays on the way home to B.C. resulted in an unexpected overnight stay in Toronto, giving me more time to think before returning home.

Time spent with my youngest daughter in Nova Scotia is always such a blessing. She has a unique perspective on life and a remarkable ability to understand and explain what I am feeling. And she doesn’t seem to be afraid to share her insights.

It’s good to be home now, but I miss what feels like my home on the east coast.

Peace

The house is quiet again. No more folding paper airplanes, building LEGO tractors, looking out for the deer, watching the quail families hunt for food. Well…I can still watch the wildlife in my backyard on my own but I admit that it is much more exciting to see the looks of amazement in my grandson’s eyes!

The chair on my deck is no longer occupied by anyone but me and I can return to enjoying some simple quiet moments. The chirping of birds and the distant rumble of traffic. Sipping my third cup of coffee.

But I do miss the chatter of excited little boys after a night of sound sleeping. Each morning they would call “grandma, grandma” while looking out every window trying to find me. With the heat wave so severe for the past 2+ weeks I had to do the gardening and water the plants very early in the mornings.

My variegated Dogwood might just survive. We have two to three more days of intense heat, then it will hopefully be back to normal summer heat.

These blazing stars started blooming soon after my guests arrived, attracting honeybees and bumblebees—more opportunity for discovery.

Though I will miss having my grandsons here, I do admit that I was counting down the days until their flight home.

Twins

These two siblings were lounging in my backyard just after sunset a few days ago. I live in the middle of a small city of 160,000 people. Wildlife seems quite abundant, with deer visiting almost daily, coyotes patrolling the streets at night and reports of cougars lying in wait for deer at a nearby creek.

The dogwood, now surrounded by bird netting to keep it safe from deer, is still clinging to life. We are in the middle of a heat wave that is threatening to dry up every plant in my garden. The garden is my sanctuary.

Since taking this photo I have seen the fawns many times. Sometimes they are just walking through with their mother, sometimes resting and sometimes playing.

Rules

Where I now live there are rules. One of them is that I need permission to plant any tree or shrub. I applied properly to see if I could plant two trees that would not grow no taller than 20 feet. The person who gives permission must have been very busy last month since it took over a week for her to let me know that I could plant one tree and one shrub.

I applied before the heat wave, but wasn’t able to buy and plant my dogwood tree until right at the start of the heat wave. Last night after the deer devoured several clusters of hydrangeas, she started heading straight for my new dogwood. This is the tree that I was given permission to plant. It cost more than my last grocery run, and was supposed to be deer resistant!

My grandsons were at the living room window, watching in awe the first deer that they had seen in real life! And they saw their grandma chasing it across the street…encouraging it to go to the beautiful buffet on the corner.

Whenever I go to visit my grandsons in Europe, my daughter lays down the rules for me to follow. There are many, and I try very hard to follow them in order to have a peaceful visit. They arrived at my home a few days ago, and to allow for a potentially good visit I kept the rules to a minimum of one rule. That was to wait 3-5 days before visiting my mother in the care home. This was the advice given to me from the nursing staff at the care home in order to keep the residents safe from any potential illness picked up while traveling. Yes, it was one rule too many, and impossible for them to follow. So, now I pay for it.

Gardening helps me get through the stress. I have many more flowers, and one shrub to plant in the coming days and will need to spend time morning and evening watering by hand. I’m not sure how long I will get the silent treatment this time, but I’m sure it will outlast the visit. 😢

Thunderstorms

During the past 10 years when I lived on Vancouver Island I can recall only one mild thunderstorm. In the Interior they happen frequently. This evening I am sitting out on my deck enjoying the lightning bolts and thunder along with storm clouds as they catch the light of the setting sun. Bliss.

Warmth

Moving back to Kelowna has its blessings. My son and I are able to spend more time together. After hikes with his two girls, Gia and Lacy, he often invites me to meet him at a restaurant or pub that allows dogs on the patio. Here they are resting beneath the picnic table.

Gia is a Heeler; Lacy is a Heeler, Border collie mix. Lacy is about 10 months old and Gia is around 3 years old. They are very energetic dogs and thrive on the attention and discipline they receive from my son.

Those “dates” with my son are both relaxing and fun. We catch up on news, talk about his sisters, and make plans for the next date. Since he works in the hospitality industry we often run into his friends and colleagues and I am known as “mom” to many of them! It’s a warm feeling to be accepted into their community so easily.