A Final Message

I attended my brother's funeral today..alone..sitting on my couch.

I wasn't there in person along side of my brothers, saying goodbye. My sisters-in-law and I were only present in our thoughts and hearts. The reasons were of necessity but still deeply unsatisfying emotionally.  The only thing that helped at all, was knowing that Barbara was already booked to visit Ontario in the following weeks. 

We anticipated Barb's visit as a beloved sister, not as our brother's widow bearing copies of his funeral service on USB sticks for us. We had planned a family gathering so we could see and touch her, hear her voice and her news. We had not known that Alan would leave us in the interim. 

I anticipated her arrival with, mostly, equal parts joy and trepidation. I wanted to be a support, to listen, to hug and offer love. I did not want to be weeping and needy requiring her consolation. 

It was a gift, that little bit of time. We were finally able to weep in one anothers arms and to talk about the pain of Alan's final journey. It had felt, to me, that the geographical distance made it almost impossible to walk along side of them, but Barb told me that she had always felt loved and supported along the way. The tears were healing. A precious gift of time and proximity. A treasure.

Robert did not want me to watch the service alone; ever the loving and protective big brother. Schedules interfered and I decided to watch it alone.  I saw my brothers file in and sit together. The natural selection that chose our faces from different ancestral mixes, made us all the same height and shape, and now time has painted our heads varying degrees of grey. I know they missed my presence but maybe it was good to just be brothers together mourning the loss of one that was dear.

The service was in a sense familiar, the patterns and music of my youth and my upbringing. The pastor read from my brother's own Bible. My niece told the story of my brother's life so beautifully. My great-nephew sang and my sweet great-nieces gave their own remembrances of their 'Papa'. 

Then there was a video..my heart cracked and a deep well of grief erupted. I had cried many times for my brother along the way, as I realized that he was suffering and at each new evidence that was he was leaving us. But this, this I hadn't know was even there. It occurred to me finally, that perhaps I had not really  admitted to myself that he was gone, really and finally gone from us. I have lived most of my life far from my brother. I was used to picturing him in the garden or at the table for tea with Barbara, or hundreds of other little mental photos that I had.  Even in the care home, I could picture the ebb and flow of his days because I had been a health care aide as well as cared for my parents. Perhaps I needed the reality of these final pictures.

I phoned my husband just to hear his voice, and he who knows me well, advised a quiet walk. It was drizzling, which was okay because I was too. In the process of calming down, and breathing in, and looking up, I guess I had processed something about the service more completely.

Alan had prepared the framework of his own service. His Bible was read from, his words to us all were spoken, the hymns he loved were sung, and the verses that were of special meaning to him were read. This was his voice. This was his final words of love to us all. He wanted us to know that his faith reassured him and carried him through even this. He believed he was loved and would be at peace and at rest. He had a deep and assured joy for his future. All of this underneath the painful and fearful process of arriving there, was this calm knowledge, this 'blessed assurance'.

So, while the tears are still close, it is okay because I received Al's last love letter to me.

I love you. It's ok.

A good day..

Today was a good day. Not for any particular reason or special event that took place; just an ordinary day...but a good day.

Maybe we do not appreciate the ordinary days enough, and life is full of them. Days when it is enough that the sun is shining and the outdoors beckons. The housework also beckons but the fall days are numbered so the housework can be ignored for a day..or so. 

I headed down to the Grand River and the trails below the dam. 

The water was low enough that the full structure was visible. Many of the trees at the rivers edge are already bare and the usual complement of Canada geese were absent. The sound of the water was lovely but quiet compared to the spring when the river is in spate.

A little ways downstream the gulls were napping in the sun.

By the canal the banks are eroding and the trees are listing towards the water. There are beautiful sycamore and hackberry trees whose roots are now exposed and in danger of toppling into the canal. The turtles and ducks may enjoy these new perches but it is sad to lose such lovely, mature trees.

I tried to get a photograph of a kinglet but none of them would pose. This is the closest I got; a golden crown and flurry of wings. 

A raccoon was snoozing in a tree cavity; a nice warm spot in the morning sun.

These asters are a little less vibrant, but still lovely, and apparently of great interest to this tiny hoverfly. Their stripes give the impression that they are bees and have the ability to sting and therefore offers some protection from predators. The ability to hover is unique and comes from the fact that they have the most flexible wings of any flying insect. (All of this discovered after eliminating every bee and wasp known to man.)

What is left of this leaf shows its fascinating inner structure, ..and also looks a bit like a suburban street map.

This mushroom caught my eye. It is standing there all by itself like an open parasol, on a large horizontal branch, about 3 storeys up. 

Down below, a feather is caught on a log which is resting mostly underwater. 

The bittersweet berries are starting to pop.

Robins have having fun in a leftover puddle.

Equally busy was this large American Oil Beetle. They are a type of blister beetle, which is what you might get if you handle them.

This is the paved SC Johnson Trail that follows the abandoned Lake Erie and Northern Railway bed between Brantford and Paris. Being actual rail trail this section is raised trail that goes between the foot paths by the canal on one side and the river on the other.

I looked for the Bald Eagle in the tall dead tree but he was not keeping watch there. A kingfisher was flying low over the river looking for his lunch, and I startled some mallards who were resting near to the shore. The water was so clear that I could see their orange webbed feet paddling behind them.

Our tallest trees along the riversides sustained a lot of ice damage last spring, but several remain, stately towers, with deeply furrowed bark, a testament to their strength.

Blue jays are year-round companions; ebullient, busy and always noisy.

In a warm spot in the sun there were still Bladder Campions getting ready to bloom. 

I took a survey of the Woolly Bear caterpillars on the walk and based on the results, what the winter will look like is anybody's guess. Apparently the amount of brown is an indication of how mild the winter will be, and the amount of black closest to the head indicates how harsh the winter will be at its beginning.  Hopefully you tell which end is which. I guess we will see.

So...was this an unusual walk? Did I see anything extraordinary? No. I walked a path that I enjoy and have walked many times. I saw familiar sights and heard familiar sounds. Our days are often like this; full of familiar things and repetitive tasks. Perhaps so familiar that we do them by rote and they become mundane and the enjoyment leaches away. Our world is about 'busy' and 'more' and 'doing'. 

And some of it is necessary; we have jobs, social obligations and raise children. I think though that we need to include more 'free time' and 'less' and 'quiet'. We need time to saunter instead of run, be more content with what we have and more patient with the time it takes to accrue things, and spend less time doing in favor of time spent being. Unrealistic? Simplistic? I don't think so. These are the tools of healthy survival. Body, mind and spirit need a balanced life.

So...the ordinary walk becomes a time of quiet, a time of feeding the spirit and a moment of joy. I walked slowly to look at the leaves falling. I stopped to enjoy the smell of the poplars and listen to the chickadees. I pointed out the sleeping raccoon to another walker and enjoyed their delight. Small things, small moments. 

I think people equate big things with success and importance, when it is the smallest of things that can have the biggest impact; a smile, a thank you, a hug. Stopping a moment to sit in the sun, admire a sunset, or cherish a memory. Things that make a good day.

Making changes

My brain is hurting. I have been thinking, trying to work out how I feel about something and what the result of said thinking would look like. I want to make a change, a deliberate decision to do something in a different way. 

Change is such a part of our daily life that we sometimes do not even recognize it, we just adapt; weather changes, price changes, health changes. These changes are random and made by someone or something outside of our control, but still have to be accepted or dealt with in some way. Then there are changes that you consciously and deliberately choose to make, resulting in doing, or being, something different.

This can be problematic when you have done something or looked at things in a certain way for a long time; like me, for over 60 years now. Hence the thinking... which often leads to overthinking, then doubting,.. and the process coming to a halt.

Therefore in search of clarity, I headed for the Foulds Tract to walk; my favorite place to practice 'forest bathing' also known as  Shinrin-yoku, the medicine of simply being in the forest. This is a beautiful tract of mixed forest where I can generally walk alone and just absorb the quiet; slowly wander the path, and just breathe.

The pathway was littered with the golden leaves of the oaks in the uppermost storey and the elms and beeches closer to the floor. Many of the tall maples were still green so there will be more colour to come. The sound of the wind through the leaves was so lovely.

The sassafras tree, with its distinctive leaf shape, still stands guard at the entrance to the path but new trees are sprouting further along the way.

A solitary helleborine is still in bloom. 

I stood beneath the regal hemlock.

I received a glare from a garter snake whose business I apparently interrupted.

Robins were busily moving about the canopy, but I also saw one enjoying a bath in the pond. 

The witch hazel was in bloom and many of the branches were decorated with pine needles like Christmas tree icicles.

Tiny eyelash cup fungi, only millimetres in diameter, dotted this log,

while this sapling had larger unidentified orange decorations.

I returned to my car feeling refreshed and ready to put feet and hands to the decisions I had made. So...the holiday season is approaching once again. I decided that this is going to be a simpler time for my family. I am tired of the pressure and stress that makes this a lengthy time of anxiety. I am weary of media bombardment to buy, and the insidious subtle messages that the number and dollar value of gifts is the ultimate expression of love. And while I grew up with a strong religious significance to this time of year, I no longer espouse that in the same way. 

I think this holiday time is going to look something like this;

Gifts and gift-giving will probably take the form of donations of money, food or time to those who need it more or will use it to effect important changes in our world. I would also prefer to give the unexpected gift, the small token or surprise, throughout the year; the 'simply because' gift. 

Decorating will be more winter themed and intended to ease the darker days and colder nights. Apparently this practice is called 'hygge' (hew-guh) in Denmark. It is about taking simple moments and making them memorable, creating a sense of cosiness, comfort and contentment, and creating moments of intimacy and warmth. And, it is not about having fancy or expensive things. It is about being present where you are, with what you have, and recognizing or creating warm, special moments. 

I want to make the life I live reflect more of who I really am and what I think is important. Maybe it is a case of 'too soon old, too late wise', or maybe this is one privilege that comes with time. I don't know. I do know that what I do should reflect my values and I should be giving to my children my best and authentic self.  Perhaps it would be of value to put less emphasis on holiday family occasions being 'special' and more importance on the everyday moments that slip by so quickly.

I guess I think that not only do we need to be better stewards of our planet's resources, and soon, but we need to be better stewards of our personal emotional resources. Maybe Christmas lists need to include gratitude.