View from the window...It is the winter of...

Well, apparently it is going to snow today. Which is lovely, when the verb involved is 'looking' (at), and not 'driving' (in), or the 'shoveling' (of). In this little part of Southern Ontario, we have become accustomed to less snow as time has gone by, not like the weather weirdness capitol of London and points west, or the the recipient of lake effect weather like Hamilton nearby. The snow is coming sideways from the east, so perhaps this is a little 'cadeau' from our neighbours in La Belle Province. They get enough snow that if I was them, I would want to share the white wealth as well.

(https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sherbrooke_Street_at_night.JPG)

All the usual visitors to the yard are tucked up somewhere, keeping as warm and cozy as possible; not a glimpse of feather or fur anywhere. I am also warm and cozy with my coffee and in my housecoat. Housework awaits. It is probably calling my name, but I am not listening right now.

I spend a lot of time in the past; a by-product of following genealogical pursuits, I suppose. But other things draw us to places of memory, like songs, scents, photos or places. January, for me is a 'remember-ful' month.

It is twenty-one years ago now, that I was summoned from a Christmas celebration to a small hospital in Paris. It was kind of a forced celebration that year, in that the loss of our mother was still very fresh. This however, was about my dad. He had been taken to hospital and I was being called there to make decisions about what was to be his last few days with us. Dad left us on January 2nd, almost three months to the day from Mom's death.

Events of strong emotion imbed themselves in your heart forever. The sting of them lessens over time enabling you to remember more of the person, and less of the loss. So January starts for me with thinking about Dad. He was the product of Victorian parents; the oldest son. He had a strong moral code and a fierce work-ethic. He brought an East Coast girl to distant Toronto and they raised six children. He sang, supported his church, and worked two more jobs after his formal retirement. His role in the household was breadwinner; he was not demonstrative. With the exception of my sister, he was a small man amongst a throng of towering offspring. He was Dad. I was there when he took his last breath on January 2nd, 2000. You don't forget days like that.

(Saint John, NB 1938)

(Dad holding the caboose of the family train, 1958)

The 4th of January is the happiest of remembrances; the birthday of our daughter-in-law, Karen. I came home from a lengthy visit with Mom in Quebec, to find that our oldest son, in his 30's, long heart-protective, was head over heels in love with a tiny, Newfie spitfire, mother of four. It is hard to remember now, and I certainly can't even imagine, our life before our Karen. Dan takes credit for this blessed of unions, so I will take a moment to thank him for this and for our sweetest Leah, also such a huge gift to us. I am the luckiest of women to have these girls in my life.

The 5th reminds me of how my mother must have felt so much the same way; she had four boys bring young women into her life. The first family import was Janet, brought home from Bible College by my oldest brother. I was still a girl when she took my brother away; I participated in their wedding and cried up a storm. An amazing woman; teacher; wife of a busy pastor; incredible mom; warm supporter of youngest sister-in-law. So appreciated and so loved. She is now showing me how to grow older gracefully. She is a good example; perhaps this pupil is slow.

(Engagement Celebration)

The week of the 10th to 17th sees the remembrance of at least four family birthdays; my mother, sister, husband and his twin, and brother. For many years we celebrated at least three of those together. Now for my mom on the 10th, and my sister on the 12th, these are occasions of remembrance. 

(1994)

My mom was not raised by her mom, the Great War interfered in her life so that she did not have that influence or example. My dad went to the East Coast for work, then brought my mom, with three small children (one three months old), on the train, during war, to a foreign country - Upper Canada. Yet she adapted. Then she found herself anticipating a blessed event at age 40 when she already had a seemingly endless supply of boys already. Surprise! I'm not sure that she always thought it had been a good surprise because, like many mother-daughter  relationships, ours was often fraught. I do though, think of my mom with much love and great respect.

(1937/38)

I remember my sister Margaret on the 12th. Nan, as I will always think of her, was married when I was five. We did not have the luxury of knowing each other as adults for long, as she left us in 1990. She left too young, leaving her children as barely formed adults. It is interesting that all three have travelled the world...I wonder if there is a correlation.

(1961?)

Next, on the 16th, were born two boys, a huge twin surprise (read shock) to their parents who had expected and prepared for the arrival of one child. Also a shock to the young doctor who had not anticipated this dual arrival either, nor had he yet in his career delivered two at one time. My husband Lynn is the firstborn by several minutes. 

There are only a few photos of les Jumeaux (as they are referred to by our French cousins) so they are particularly precious, and there are none of them as babies; strange to us now in this time of phone camera and every other thing.  Sadly, celebrating a birthday together as brothers, has not been a thing for a very long time as Lloyd has ever been on the East Coast and prior to that, at sea, literally, as in the Navy.  Now that I may have finally grown up, I try to celebrate Lynn every day, as his 40 plus years presence in my life have been the backbone and mainstay of our life and the making of me.

(1977)

Lastly, the 17th, brings me to the youngest of my brothers. We were the last two at home. He is older than I am by almost 6 years, and that he did not murder me in my sleep as a child is a testament to his long-suffering temperament. We have shared many family moments together, but this year's birthday, is not one of them. Thankfully presence is not a requirement of remembrance.

(c1965)

I am not sure whether it is January's proximity to Christmas, or its place on the calendar, in the middle of winter, but these particular weeks that start the year seem especially impactful. We have spent these last weeks without the physical presence of many whom we love, so these January birthdays are similar in a way not experienced before.  

It is strange and kind of uncomfortable. It is to be hoped that all the birthdays of this year will not be spent in this way, but if this is needful to ensure we will have another birthday, then so be it. In the meantime, I will just continue my celebrations in this way.