Thankfulness in the maelstrom

I had named this blog 'In the Maelstrom' because that is where I felt that I was; in the midst of a whirlpool of emotion and events over which I had no control. The past several weeks have been turbulent. My brother died; our son got married; we drove to Quebec; a family member had to be hospitalized; my brothers flew to Winnipeg for the funeral; we celebrated birthdays; we visited with family we only see once a year..all of which is, I know, the stuff of life. However, it was the compression of all the events into a small space of time. It was the extremes of emotion on a roller coaster from day to day. It was the 'timey wimey' feel, as Matt Smith would say, of time stopping in one moment and moving warp speed in the next. 

I couldn't seem to write that blog though. It mulled around in my mind all week, until today. It suddenly seemed more important to move from mindfulness and coping, to thankfulness and perhaps a moving towards acceptance. I realized that my thoughts were based more in fear and probably anger, which would very probably keep me in that vortex, in that swirling water, for a longer time than would be healthy for me. This is not to say that I have stepped out of that water yet, but only that I may no longer stay in it thrashing about and in danger of sinking.

Therefore I decided that this blog will take those things from these difficult weeks and deliberately choose to find and list that which I can be thankful for.

Am I over the death of my brother Alan? No, probably not ever, but I am thankful that he is firmly fixed in my heart and my memory. I can still hear his voice and see his grin and will forever know that he loved me. I am thankful for the sister that he brought into my life. She is strong and amazing, although I know that she feels less so right now. I am also thankful that I can love her and remind her while she struggles with a life forever altered.

Our son was married just a couple of days after the news of my brother's death had reached us. Our hearts have an amazing capacity and I am so thankful for joy can exist in the midst of sorrow. The sun was unexpected that day, but burst through the clouds like a benediction and a blessing. Karen had written the service and the officiant infused joy and meaning into the words of promise and commitment in a Handfasting ceremony that was unique in the way that Karen and Matt are. 

The day after the wedding we drove the nine hours that it takes to go from our home in Ontario, to Sherbrooke in the Eastern Townships of Quebec.I have been making this trip with my husband for over forty years now. My mom-in-law is now 95 years old and I usually only get to see her once a year, so my choice to visit her rather than fly to Winnipeg with my brothers, though difficult, was necessary. 

Mom seems to get a bit more petite each year, but she is feisty. She has welcomed me with warmth and love since my first visit to her home. I have done some work on her family tree so we have spent many hours rehearsing family history and her personal stories. One of the visits we always make with her is to the cemetery. It is an important visit for her. As the years have passed the cemetery in Reedsville has become the final resting place of much of Mom's personal history. Parents, extended family, neighbours and schoolmates, and now a son, rest there, and each visit is a time to remember all of these loved ones. It is indeed the history of not just Mom's family, but the community in which she lived a great deal of her life. 

Mom lives close to the Domaine Howard, a lovely park and garden that my husband knew as Howard's Pond. We have always made a yearly visit, but now that Mom is only a block away, it is a daily place of refuge for me. Domaine Howard was the estate of Charles Benjamin Howard, a wealthy industrialist, senator and former mayor of Sherbrooke. The beauty and creativity of the gardens feed the soul and in late September the trees are putting on their stunning red and orange fall robes. There are benches around the pond and it is common to see someone resting with their eyes closed and face turned to the sun. Perfect. I am thankful for this lovely place of quiet and reflection.

I feel like the Eastern Townships is part of the fabric of who I now am. We visit the places that have formed the story of Mom's family. I think this is how it has always been; the repetition of family stories and those places connected to them that keep the commentary of a family alive in the next generation, so those memories are not lost. An important practice for which I am thankful, although I think that one likely needs to reach a certain age before one appreciates it. 

I am deeply thankful for family visits where you simply pick up where you left off the year before. Families are often separated by many miles and whom we are only able to visit yearly or even less frequently, and when we do visit, the time is always too short. Maybe, hopefully, that makes the visit sweeter; there is just a short time to touch their face, hug them, and say important words.

I am thankful that time, absence and language are not permanent barriers to feeling like a family. My husband's father left the family (long story) and this caused a separation from all his French heritage. Starting with names that Mom remembered, I built a family tree of those French roots and eventually came into contact with some family members (also long story). The important thing is that the some 50 years of separation, the difference in language spoken, and the absence of common experience together, made no difference to the love, acceptance and joy of being related, when we did finally meet. It was an extraordinary experience. My husband looked just like his cousin Roger, and  tante Gisele had remembered and missed him, and tante Julie still loved Mom as a sister even after all this time. Special connections and joyous reunions.

I was thankful to be able to celebrate the birthdays of my brother-in-law Marc, and his son James, our nephew. On the same day. Awesome. We went to the apple orchard, rode the trailer into the rows of apples and picked bagfuls. So much fun, and a chance to celebrate at least one of the year's occasions together. A precious memory.

And when my brother called me after the funeral, I am thankful that I could be with my remaining Mom for comfort and later rest my head on my sister-in-law's shoulder for a moment, knowing she understood. Then have birthday cake and admire a grandbaby in the family. Blessings.

Sometimes, well often, I lose perspective. Fear does that. The focus of your thoughts is negative, because so many things in life are hurtful, or frightening, or horrifying. And anyone who says that things can't get any worse, is seriously deluded. However the fact that there is a harvest and time of being grateful before the dark time of winter, gives us a chance to re-orient our outlook and prepare. 

So I will try to follow the pattern of Druid spirituality's three branches to accomplish this.

I will pursue the bardic response of taking photographs and writing, because creativity is positive and healing.

I will pursue the ovate response of spending time in the forest to recharge and refocus and find peace in its quiet.

I will pursue the druid response of deliberate gratefulness to remind me that there are always reasons to be thankful.