Happy Mother's Day

For those of us who are fortunate enough to have our children or our mothers living near us I hope that you get to spend some of your day with them.

For those of us who are not as fortunate to have our children or our mothers with us I hope that you go to the place that they will always be with you and have a sweet little visit with them for some part of the day.

I hope that you all have a day that you feel appreciated.

Angelique I am so proud of you and the mother you are to our sweet Josephine.  I hope that you have a special Mother’s Day.

A few quotes I love in honour of mothers:

Now that  ...  my kids are grown, I understand how much work and love it takes to raise and to keep a family together.  The example of your strength, devotion, and patience is now rippling through the generations.  Thank you!  ~  Forest Houtenschil

My mom is a never-ending song in my heart of comfort, happiness, and being.  I may sometimes forget the words but I always remember the tune.  ~  Graycie Harmon

Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.  ~  William Makepeace Thackeray

A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.  ~  Tenneva Jordan

A Woman's Job Is Never Done

In January, 1993, when Angelique just turned 17 and was in Grade 12 she had to interview and write about someone that she admired the most.  She wrote about her Grandma and entitled the paper ‘A Woman’s Job Is Never Done.’  Angelique’s paper will be in bold.

I thought that this would be a good time to place this in my blog as Mother’s Day is on Sunday and this is a tribute to my Mother.  Cheers to you Mom.

As my biggest role model sits beside me on the couch, I sit in amazement of her beauty and self control that she seems to carry with her always.  As she continues to support her smoking habit of about 54 years (as she is now 66 years of age), she still looks as elegant as always.  She is the only one I have known to look incredibly graceful with a cigarette.  I remember even as a child trying to imitate and look like her with a cigarette, yet I used a pen and almost mastered the way she would hold it and exhale the smoke.

I look up at her eyes and she smiles as I begin to ask her about her life.  She was born December 7, 1926, in Aberdeen, Scotland.  She was adopted, yet she was still in contact with her biological family.  She seemed to be a very eccentric little red head then, as she is now.  She was very brave and strong and a rather pesky tomboy.  With her happy-go-lucky personality, Daisy Ste. Marie (then Cowie) was very popular, and always attracted people towards her.  She was always with her group of friends and together they seemed to be very close and were always doing something or other exciting.

As she speaks with her hands and motions about, she explains how they had no T.V. to center their lives around, as they went for picnics to the beach, the cinema, pantomimes, and as often as possible, they went dancing at the club on the boulevard.  It was there at the boulevard that she met Henri Ste. Marie.

It was about the year 1945 during World War II.  She had been dancing all night and went to stand at the radiator to keep warm.  A rather good looking soldier (Canadian) walked into the club with another woman.  She bet her friend that she could steal him away.  As the evening progressed, the man asked her to dance.  He had told her that he had been watching her all night, and he bet her money that he would marry her, and he gave her the money to keep.

She fought it over with him and laughed and he walked her home.  It turns out that they got married a month later.  She had always dreamed about having a big wedding, but it wasn’t possible during the war.  She had to save her clothing coupons and many of the neighbours gave her coupons for her dress.  The wedding took place in a church by the ocean with her Maid of Honour and the Best Man.  After the wedding, they went out for supper.  They will have celebrated their 47th wedding anniversary on February 28th.

As she had her first of thirteen children, she said that it was one of the happiest moments in her life, although she said it felt like the end of the bloody world.  As she asks my grandpa how old she was (he says 19), she disagrees and says 18 and they argue about it for a while.  She then goes on explaining all of the great times she has had with her kids.  She exclaims that she is very proud of all her children and their success as none of them seemed to have done anything that bad, as she smiles.  “And they’ve done a good job with their kids too!”

She was the perfect mother, who spent time with each, and they always played games, and she’s done the same with all of her grandchildren.  I can vouch for that one!  After her first child, she had to move to Canada, where all of her children grew up.

As she explains her move to Canada from Scotland (which she misses dearly), she explains about how it was one of the hardest times of her life; actually it was the most depressing yet at the same time, it was a great feeling since she didn’t know her whereabouts.  As she was leaving at the train station, her ex-boyfriend was playing the bagpipes, which she loves so much.  When she first got to Canada, she felt very lonely.  But as she explains about how she has no regrets “Life is too short to worry; you must continue.”

She had many friends and it was through one of these friends at church, that she finally saw her sister after 30 years.  Her friend’s son went to Scotland and stayed with his aunt.  His aunt worked with my grandma’s sister, Elsie.  Elsie met the lady’s son and they struck up a conversation about Winnipeg, and one thing led to another and when the son came back, he gave all of the information to my grandma.

My grandma did not talk or know where Elsie lived or if she was even alive after 30 years.  So when they came into contact, and my grandma went to Scotland to see her, she said that was the happiest time of her life.  She said she balled her head off the whole time and didn’t even think she’d recognize her.  But when they saw each other (and neither are very affectionate) they sat there crying and hugging the whole time.

To me, my grandma is the greatest person.  I hope I have helped you understand how super she is since she is the mother of 13 wonderful children, 40-some grandchildren, she is a very happy, strong and wise lady.

I learn a lot from her, and I love her very much.

Just to let you know the child born in Scotland is my brother Harry.  Also just to let you know, the elegant cigarette smoking has stopped.

The love-affair between my daughter and her grandma continues and is just as strong as when one of the ladies was 17 and the other lady was 66.  Angelique is so blessed that her daughter Josephine now has a great-grandma to love.

The picture at the start of my blog was taken last week in the front yard.  For those of you who are not sure who is who, here is my key.

The two mothers each have a heart on their dresses, because once you have children your heart is just naturally on the outside of your body.  Grandma is the queen mother and Angelique is the junior mother.  Nadalene has on funky sandals and is wearing a tiara and has a picture of herself as a young girl on her dress.  Nathan is wearing a crown and has on some red high-tops, he is sporting the number 12 for some sports team, and still likes to hold his grandma’s hand.  Josephine is also holding her great-grandma’s hand and has a star on her dress because she is the little star of our family.  Also Josephine’s cheeks are rosy because she ate some apples.

We all love you Mom.  Happy Mother’s Day.

Welcome Home

Rest in peace Barb.

Taking Care Of Business

Talking to Angelique on the phone Monday morning and I tell her where I was earlier.  Nathan walks by and says “Mom next time it is a beautiful day, why don’t you go for a walk in the park instead of sitting all morning in a funeral home.”  Angelique on the phone hears and says “No shit.”  We all burst out laughing.

Anyway, Monday morning I spent at Desjardins Funeral Home.  I am preparing funeral arrangements so that it will be less work for my family.

This is my second time going as I went in May last year.  I plan to make this an annual event, just too fine tune and also to get use to the place.  Last year when I went I felt a little chocked.  This year it felt much more like business and really just something that needs to be done.

There are already different things I found out this year than I knew last year.  For example I found out from my friend Flo that I can get a cremation box (cardboard) for $15 whereas last year they told me the cheapest one was $740 (pressboard).

I will share with you what I learned.

Flashback May, 2007

I get Jacquie to drop me off at Desjardins because I have an appointment with the funeral director for 9 a.m.  She does not want me to go alone, but that is the only way I am going.

When I first entered it was still dark and there was no one around.  I peek in doorways and all of a sudden a lady comes out who has to bend in the doorway because she is about 7 feet tall.  Scared the shit out of me.  She is the funeral director and her name is Lynette.

We start the meeting and talked about why I am there.  I felt a little teary when I said I was there for myself, but I reminded myself that I was just taking care of business and got my self together.  I had also met with the priest previously, so I knew what I wanted done.

She takes me downstairs and we enter the casket room.  For some reason I still thought the caskets would be a little further into the room but they are jam-packed in the room, right at the entrance.  It gave me the creeps because I always hated that quilted lining in a casket.

I see the cremation caskets and I also look at the urns.  At the time I thought I might want a niche in the wall so she said that you can’t have a wooden urn because they dissolve and the cemetery doesn’t allow that.  But now I know I don’t want to be in a wall, so I am looking at a bio-degradable urn or a wooden one so that it can rot and I will be ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

I am there for about three hours.

Flash Forward May 5, 2008

Meet with Lynette for 9 a.m.  More relaxed this time around and we go through the papers and I ask my questions.  I even got a beautiful pen out of the deal which apparently is a prize for the family when they are grieving.

Costs of a funeral:

Arrangements: $840 now is $940

Transfer of body from hospital: $215 now is $265

Staff (four people): $495

Preparation for identification: $220

Basic facility: $295 now is $195 (actually went down)

Cremation fee: $460 now is $485

Lead car (for priest, flowers, urn, etc): $125

Limousine for family: $225

Casket for cremation: $760 pressed board now is $15 for cardboard

Urn: $760 for pewter now is $460 for wood (not sure on amount of biodegradable box)

Guest book, 50 thank you cards, and crucifix: $195

*Memorial cards: $1.75 per card ($425)

*Luncheon sandwiches: $10 per person ($3,000) heard other places charge $5 per person

*Luncheon tea and coffee: $1.50 per person now $1.75 per person ($425)

Two hostesses: $250

*Based on 300 people.

Burying someone is an expensive endeavour.  The funeral based on around 300 people attending would be about $7,720.  Not including taxes, church costs, priest, death certificates, other papers needed, or cemetery costs.

Looks like I should have worked harder in the salt mines and earned more money.

The cemetery is a whole other matter too.  I went to the ones in my area last year and I am going to revisit in a few weeks.

Some things I know for sure at this point:

Do not want to die at home.
Rosary said in hospital room after I die or while I am dying.
Cremation with $15 cardboard box (do not upgrade this).
No public viewing.
Funeral at Holy Family Church (full mass with incense and holy water).

Lots and lots to do in preparation for a funeral that I hope I won’t be attending for years and years and years and years.

Rickety Leaking Ship

Now you are all going to get to see how intelligent Nadalene is.  How Nadalene is so in tune with me and how much she gets my cancer.  What she said to me will be put in italics.

After I first started going to group meetings on cancer, I would return to my family and friends shell-shocked.  As time went on, my group friends would get sicker and some of them starting dying.  It was the end result of cancer.  And to be honest, it is the end result of life.

My first group of fellow sufferers all died with the exception of me, Sally and Bernice.  Of my Wednesday group after Jill, Helen, and Angie died there is nothing left except me and the day of the week.

There is a deep sorrow in all of this.

Family and friends would ask “Why do you keep going?  This is too hard on you.  Wouldn’t it be better if you stopped going?”

It would definitely not be better for me to stop going.  People did not quite understand.  All they saw was my pain; they did not see the benefit of how I needed to share my sorrow with people who understood me.  They didn’t realize that these were my people, the people who would also leave their children behind.  The same people who would have motherless children.

Nadalene understood and put it to me in a wonderful way.  I shared what she said to me with members of both my groups and everyone was “Nadalene gets it.”

It seems to me Mom that it is as though you and your friends are on a ship.  It is a rickety leaking ship and you are all holding on for dear life.  None of you knew each other to start with but now none of you wants the other to fall off of the ship.  As you travel you see other women in the water reaching out for you to bring them onboard.  You reach for them and pull them on.

As you do this, you look at the shore and all of your families are standing there.  They cannot come on the ship or even in the water.  They are waving to you and cheering you on.  But the ship keeps drifting further from the shore.  More women call for help and you reach down and bring them aboard.  Some of the women fall off and you can’t help them anymore, no one can.

The worse part for all of you is that while you are on this rickety leaking ship holding on for dear life you are drifting further and further away from your family.  You can see them and they can see you.  But the ship is for women only like you, women in a very desperate situation.

One of the ladies on the ship is a very gentle woman, her name is Barb.  Right now she is about to fall in the water, but she desperately wants to dock one more time for her oldest daughters wedding.  It is in the first week of June.

I am having a meeting with God tomorrow at 10:15 to pitch the idea that he lets her live until after the wedding.  That is what she wants and that is what all the women on my ship want for her too.  Let us all pray that she gets what it is she wants.

E Is For

Effie (Mom, new speckled one, in Gaelic Oighrig)
Elsie (aunt, mother’s sister)
Elizabeth (dear one and cousin)
Emily (niece)
Emma (great-niece)

Eggplant (baigan with roti on a Sunday)
Elephant (Angelique semi-collected)
Ear (five operations)
Enchanted (by almost everyone)
Equal (all people)

Earth (home – third planet from the sun)
Europe (Greece and Turkey)
Equator (imaginary circle around the earth)
Elf Land (open a book to find it)
East (don’t know directions, Wahid don’t try to show me again)

Evening (family gathering)
Eighty (nice age to live to)
Eclipse (Lake Superior when I was 16)
Early (accomplish tasks)
Excellent (life)

E-mail (communication)
Eager (to be well)
Exception (hopefully to my cancer’s stats)
Eye-candy (sweet to look at)
Experiment (when approved drugs are no longer available)

Worship At The Altar Of Suffering

My two years of torture are supposed to be over.  I don’t understand why I am still being tortured.  Albeit is a different form and to me, not as horrible as the first type, it is still torture and it is still terrible.

My knees are grumbling, my elbows are growling and my feet are screaming.  There are no words for how my shoulders feel.  My throbbing, complaining body reminds me everyday of what my situation is.

Camille (my sister) has severe arthritis and never complains.  I have complained more in the last two years than she has complained in the last twenty.  Am I lacking some core strength that she has and I don’t?  It is impossible for me not to complain.  Impossible.

I cannot string two sentences together without including this as one of them.  My shoulders are killing me, my feet, my knees, my head.  You get the drift.  This is my language now.  The pathetic part of me feels I need to let people know that I am suffering.  Even though I find it abhorrent, I no longer know what to do without people’s pity.

For all of my worship at the altar of suffering and however done I am with it.  In some ways I don’t know how to turn my mind from it.  I have forgotten how to bring other elements of me back into myself.  I need to remind myself of who I am.  Or at the very minimum, that I am something more than that cringing body tied to the stake on the altar of suffering.

But maybe that is all I am now and that is what I have to accept.

Dealing with pain and illness is no easy feat.  It is a conscious choice everyday to make the best of your life.  Yes, it is easier said than done.

My family helps me so much and I am so grateful for all their care.  I love you Wahid, Angelique, Nadalene and Nathan.  Angelique thank you so much for my little flower (Josephine).

“Just living is not enough,” said the butterfly,
“one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.”
(Hans Christian Anderson)