Advent 2019

It's beginning to look a lot like Advent. Our church is filled with beautiful blue banners and frontal cloths and the priest's blue satin vestments. One addition this year is the Advent chapel at the front of the chancel, just under the cross--lots of candles on blue satin, sparkly, cloth covers. That is where Father Nick has Compline every Wednesday evening at 6:30. Frank and I went the first time, but missed the second one due to snow. (He has a very justified fear of slipping and falling on icy sidewalks.) Next Wednesday I will go alone because our Church Council follows immediately after Compline and goes for an hour or more. Frank would have to find somewhere to sit for an hour, waiting for me. So, again he'll have to stay home. :(

This year we actually got our Christmas cards written and mailed off in good time, I think. Our grandson came over and put up lights around our patio and Frank added lights inside our kitchen window. The Advent candles are on the coffee table, surrounded by Christmas cards we've received so far. And in a day or two, we'll pull out the little artificial tree and set it up in front of the gas fireplace that we never use. Our daughter told us how to get Christmas music of the classical type from Google Home. Just ask Google for Mid-Winter's Eve Music, and there you go.

We'll go to church on Christmas Day. Spend other days around the Holy Day with family and friends who are nearby. Then we'll start to get ready for our real celebration: Epiphany when we'll chalk the door again, and play games and eat and remember to choose gifts for the poor using a catalogue from World Vision. It's a Monday this year, but we'll celebrate at home with family on Sunday, January 5th. We'll miss the church service that day, but it's that or see family members we see so seldom. God understands.

clutter

I don't have a cluttered desk at Cowork, because I have to clear it off every evening when I leave--nothing on the desk, nothing on the shelf above the desk (except for the official notice that it is reserved for me on Mondays and Fridays), and nothing in the three drawers that I used to have full to over-flowing when I rented this desk "permanently." I have a small suitcase that I use to bring to Cowork anything that I need to use at the hot desk.

At home I have a small desk in my bedroom. It's handy for me to use when I make a phone call or need to make a quick note to myself. Too small to allow it to get cluttered. It's a roll-top desk, borrowed from my son Steve, and it has a shelf-like top above the roller. I have pictures made by my son Ken, and a box of his with his brother's pumice stone inside. I keep the pumice stone because there's some dried blood on it, from Frank's forehead when he rubbed a wart he should have left alone. I also have some pictures of St. Francis of Assisi, a couple of crosses, a small statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and some printed out prayers. I guess it's a shrine of sorts, devoted to the memory of my eldest son Frank (1957-2005) and my second son Ken (1959-2012), both victims of the demon Cancer. I don't consider this shelf to be cluttered.

 My bedroom itself is cluttered with boxes and bags of things that have yet to be sorted since we moved to Penticton in April 2016. I'm working on it. I've made more progress than you might imagine, given that I still haven't finished in three years. Everything that didn't have an obvious place to reside, got put in my bedroom. Now, most of it is getting tossed in the garbage anyway. I just have to look at it first, and decide.

It's my head that's cluttered. I come to Cowork to write. Sometimes, I print out documents sent to me by the church where I serve on the Church Council, or documents from various doctors that I have to read to my husband and are illegible on my little iPhone. But mostly, I want to write here. I've been working very hard on my autobiography, If Anyone Should Ask, now on Decade 7 of my life. Finish this decade and Decade 8 and I'm done. It's rough. Not much editing. But it's not for publication. If you aren't a member of my family, there's no chance you'll get to see it. I mentioned it at the writing critique group I belong to, and the "leader" said she "had concerns about it." No she doesn't. It's absolutely none of her "concern" at all. She was "concerned" about my using anecdotes. She writes non-fiction books about submarines, so I guess she doesn't have any anecdotes. It was her husband's profession, and her knowledge is second-hand at best. So, autobiography aside, what else do I write here?

Today, I've taken refuge in this blog. I'm writing about writing, or not writing. Being at this desk only twice a week, I feel a bit nervous when I'm not making good use of the time. Blogging is good, but creative writing is better. At home, I've been reading about short stories, and reading short stories from all different sources--classics like Guy de Maupassant and Hemingway, for example, and contest winners from 2019 Short Story Contest at the CBC. I think I could write short stories long-hand in notebooks at home, between Cowork session. Maybe submit something for the 2020 contest.  Sounds like a good plan. So far, no progress.

So what should I be doing at my hot desk at Cowork? Besides my autobiography and blog? It's the novels that are cluttering my mind: First there's the trilogy that was sabotaged when my thumb-drive went crazy and turned the whole thing into a mess of upside-down question marks, and I lost my first book, House of Secrets. And about half of the second book, Baby's Breath. And notes for the third book of the trilogy, Flowers and Flames. I'm sure I have most of the above printed out, but I haven't the courage to look.

Then there's the book I started when I was taking Creative Writing courses at UBC.  I guess I started it long before that, but it was in one of these courses that I got pushed to go outside of my comfort zone--try a fantasy. Really? I always say I don't like fantasy, but that's not true. I loved Lord of the Rings, The Narnia Chronicles and Harry Potter. Fantasies, all of them. So, I drew a deep breath and re-started my story which doesn't have a title yet. It's a historical ghost story. Historical because the main part of the story is circa 1950, in London, England. Then the protagonists (two girls) meet a couple of ghosts and, in the Bloody Tower of the Tower of London, they meet the ghosts of the two princes allegedly murdered by their favourite uncle. But the boys don't believe it was their uncle, and command the girls to travel back in time to their murder and find out whodunit. (They were smothered in their sleep, so they didn't see it coming.) I'm having a ball researching and scribbling. I can't find the scenes I've actually written, but that book might get done before the trilogy! Maybe!

what happened to July and August?

Seriously! Is it true that I haven't posted anything since June 2019? I can't believe it! But I guess computers don't lie. Much.
So here we are at August 19, 2019. This month has been very busy. Two of the most auspicious days are now behind us now. Saturday was the wedding day for my grandson Dustin and his beautiful bride, Nicole. I was delighted to count no fewer than 17 people there who are blood relatives of mine! My three surviving children, Dave and Catherine and Steve. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren made up the rest of the fourteen remaining blood relatives. There are also, spouses and "step" grandchildren and great-grandchildren whom I hold very dear. The families gathered to witness and celebrate the occasion at the home of my youngest son, Steve and his wife Monika. They have such a beautiful location, right on the shore of Vaseux Lake.
It has been a favourite site for family picnics for decades, but recently Steve and Mo have been renting out the lower suite and the beach as summer vacation rentals. Good for them, but we do miss our picnics there. Last year the family picnic was at a public park across from Okanagan Lake, and served almost as well.
The previous Sunday, August 11th, was St. Clare's Day. My husband and I celebrated our tenth anniversaries as professed Franciscans (TSSF.org.) and hosted a lunch for the congregation after the church service. Steve and Monika and Catherine came to help us celebrate.

February birthdays

Hallelujah! This morning at 12:33 a.m., I was blessed with a new great-grandson! His name is Grayson. Although I have other great grandchildren, all of whom I adore with all my heart, this one is the first to continue the male line in our family. My eldest son (Frank, who died on Nov. 30, 2005) had only one son, and he drowned on May 22, 2005. My second son, Ken, who also died (Aug. 14, 2012), had three sons and one daughter. One of his sons has a daughter and a step-daughter. Ken's daughter has two sons, but they do not carry on the male line (the Jones name--which as you know is in danger of dying out! Not!) But now, Ken's second son, Dustin, has a son, Grayson. Lucky Grayson has an older (half) sister. My daughter did a count of all my grandchildren and great grandchildren and came up with the fact that Grayson is #20. I'll leave the math to others. I'm just so happy to have these wonderful young people in our family.

The heading says February birthdays. So, here they are: February 8th was Ken's birthday. February 12th is Ken's first grandson's birthday. Now, Grayson's is February 13th. My mother-in-law's birthday was Valentine's Day (but she died in 1974, I think). My eldest son, Frank's birthday was February 16th, and his dad's is February 17th, as was my father-in-law's. My dad's birthday was February 20th. I don't think there is another month in the year with so many birthdays in our family.

Epiphany 2019

Every year, in January, we celebrate Epiphany instead of Christmas. We started this years ago when our kids started getting married and having their own traditions--in their own homes or with in-laws or with friends. So, instead of trying to compete, we set up our own tradition and invited all family members to come for brunch on Epiphany to celebrate the visit of the Magi to the baby Jesus. This celebration has taken different forms over the years, but the core of it remains constant. The question is not what do you want to get, but what do you want to give. Jesus said that whatever we do to "the least of these my brethren" (the poorest people) you have done it to him. So, like the Magi, we give gifts to Jesus instead of to each other. For this, we use the World Vision catalogue.
The day usually goes something like this: family members begin to arrive about 11a.m. The coffee is put on, and we chat for a while. I have plates of cookies, Japanese oranges, nuts, chocolates, etc. for nibbles. Then one of my sons (Steve does it now) goes into the kitchen to make the brunch. I have about three dozen eggs, 6 cans of asparagus, 3 dozen English muffins, and a couple of hams all set out to be made into Eggs Benedict without the sauce. On the dining table there are two big punch bowls of juice and pop. No alcohol since the year one of my grandsons got drunk drinking the "adult" punch instead of the kids' punch. He was only four years old. In the fridge, there are a couple of trifles to be set out when the eggs and ham are done. Again, no more alcohol in the trifles--just Jello, pudding, cake and fruit.
We used to play a circle game, like musical chairs, for those who brought gifts to pass around. That died out a few years ago. But we still play the bucket game. I have a bucket filled with wrapped gifts--some of them are pretty good like chocolates or wine or a gift card to a restaurant. Other gifts are cheap and silly, like a set of kids' blocks or a pair of pantyhose or a deck of cards. People take turns choosing a gift. They open it up and show everyone and the next person has the choice of stealing a gift that is already open, or choosing a wrapped one from the bucket.
This year we added "chalking the door"--an ancient religious ceremony where a member of the family, or a priest if one is handy, take some chalk (which is supposed to have been blessed, but we didn't have any blessed chalk this year) and writes on the lintel of the main entrance:
 "20 C + M + B 19". This is 2019, broken up so it begins with 20, then we add C, M, B, and close it up with 19.>2019. C stands for Caspar, M is for Melchior, and B is for Balthazar, the supposed names of the three kings who followed the star to visit Jesus, the Magi. The other interpretation of the letters is Christus Mansionem Benedicat, or May Christ bless this house. The crosses between the letters represent the cross of Jesus, his death and resurrection.
Best of all is the gathering of family members. This year we had all three of our surviving children, a couple of grandchildren and two great grandchildren (one a teenager the other a babe-in-arms).
I've been writing my autobiography, If Anyone Should Ask. I've been writing it in decades rather than chapters. Last September, on my 80th birthday, I distributed Decade One. At the Epiphany Brunch this year, I distributed Decade Two. We expect that the great-grandson who visited us this Epiphany will be baptized at Easter (hopefully) and we'll have a family gathering for that. At that time, I hope to be able to distribute Decade Three--but first I have to write it.

missed posting in September

I like to post at least once a month. I realized that to keep followers following, I should be more consistent. So, I apologize for not doing that.
So, what happened in September? For one thing, my birthday came up. My 80th, so that meant that we had to have a big celebration--Who knew I'd last so long? Not so old nowadays as it once was. But, because my dear husband is legally blind, partially deaf, and not too good with walking, etc., (although he claims that he is a good doorstop), I had to arrange my birthday bash. Just dinner in a very nice restaurant in Summerland. Zia's  Stonehouse Restaurant. I recommend it. And, because my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren are asking questions about ancient history--i.e., my childhood and when I was young, I've been working on my autobiography. Instead of chapters, it's in decades. So, when everyone was gathered for the dinner, I was able to hand out five copies of Decade 1, the first ten years of my life. It came with the promise that Decade 2 would be ready soon. Of course, there will be a total of eight decades, so I'd better get busy.
That was most of what occupied me for September: putting together all the notes I'd been scribbling down on bits of paper all over the place. Rather than have it as a straight narrative, the really boring bits are interrupted with Vignettes--random memories that sort of fit in. I don't promise to have it strictly chronological, and I warned the family that there might be some overlaps. But I've tried to keep it as close to the truth as I remember it and believe it to be. It's not a tell-all, just as much as I care to divulge to my family. It isn't for publication.
My novel (novels?) must take a back seat for a while, because I do want to finish the eight decades while I can. If I don't get to publish a novel, it will certainly be one of my regrets, but I think family history being passed on to the next generation or two or three is more important than my satisfying an ambition.

I'm back (from the UK) Part One

Left on May 23rd and returned June 7th, 2018. Only two weeks away from home. Almost not worth going! I've never had such a short overseas trip. I would have liked to stay longer, and go other places, but that was not practical at this time. As a result, I'm warning everyone that I'm half dreaming/planning to go back to the UK next year. By myself. No hiking trips, but maybe a bus tour.

The first part of this trip was five days in London. Strange, because I was just there 16 months ago. (January 2017) My English cousins are going to be tired of seeing me. I almost never see my Canadian cousins--it's been decades! Nevertheless, I'd still like to visit each of them--London, Oxford, Devon, and some place called S...something Coal Mines, or something (Sutton, maybe).
While in London, I had a chance to introduce my friend Genevieve to my daughter. I'd seen Genevieve last time, January 2017, the first opportunity to meet since I'd taken her for pram rides in Battersea Park, when I was about 13 years old.
Last visit with Genevieve, we went to the Tower of London, but I didn't really see as much as I'd hoped. I need more information on the Bloody Tower for a middle-grade book I'm researching. So, my daughter and I went back again this trip (just last month, but it seems like ages ago.) Unfortunately, this time the Bloody Tower was closed for preparations for a display. Drat! But, to make up for it, and even better, there was a dramatic performance of the last days of Anne Boleyn--very relevant to the research I'm doing on the Tower.

London

A hundred years ago, or more accurately, almost seventy years ago, my mother and I moved to London from Vancouver and lived there for three years. So, for me, it's sort of my childhood home. Not a happy childhood home. We arrived just a few years after WWII had ended, and my first view of the city was very dismal indeed. Bombed buildings and rationing. And people thoroughly traumatized by their experience. As a result, this Canadian kid who had never heard an air raid siren or had to spend a night in a shelter listening to the terror outside, who had never been deprived of fresh fruit or vegetables, whose experience of rationing was very limited (me)--I was not really welcome. I hated England when I lived there. And yet--despite all of the above--I always feel at home when I visit London.
We had been terribly poor in those dark post-war days, Mum and I. Sometimes we were actually homeless. One night we spent just walking around the city because we had nowhere to go. Another night, we slept in a train station, but I don't remember which one.
I feel at home there because that's where my cousins are. And even one or two friends. So the hotel was not an issue this time.

Our first night, was just to get settled. The next evening, my cousins came and picked us up and we went to the theatre. I had been able to get seven seats in the Royal Circle at the Noel Coward Theatre. The show was called "Half a Sixpence"--and I wish I could recall the names of the performers. They were amazing.

The second day, we spent visiting these same cousins, spending a wonderful evening catching up and reminiscing. Almost all of them had been to Canada at some time or another, and we had a great time. I can't bear to think this could be our last time together, as we are all getting rather long in the tooth.

The third day, I met with a friend I hadn't seen since I was about thirteen and she was about 18 months old. We met at the entrance to the Tower of London, and spent the afternoon together there. I had baby-sat for her when we had lived next door to one another in 1951. While she and I had our visit, my husband and son had a tour of London--disappointing, they said. The city is changing so much that it is hardly recognizable.

Then we caught a train to Wales.

Lille to London

Leaving Lille was like heaving a deep breath of relief. We left on the Eurostar and whizzed through the Chunnel to London. It was probably the fastest trip we took anywhere on this journey. We hardly had a chance to appreciate the train and its speed. We just got on. Sat down. Then got off at St. Pancras Station in London.  I guess that had something to do with my travel agent's choice of the city of Lille, and of the hotel in London, the Pullman London, St. Pancras--about a block from the station so we didn't need a taxi. Walking even that short distance was a bit of a problem because the uneven pavement and the crowds of people made pushing and pulling the wheelchair quite difficult.
The hotel was fine--a bit finer than I would have chosen. We've been to London several times, but never had a hotel quite as fine as this one. However, it was all beyond worrying about.
The one difficulty was getting my son to his room on the ninth floor. He has acrophobia and the huge floor-to-ceiling window at the elevator exit was more than he could take. He moved to the second floor and that suited him fine.
My problem was that our room was on the 16th floor. Same style window! I didn't like it much, and it was impossible to get my son's help with my husband.
We were there for a few days, and fortunately did not spend a lot of time in the hotel.

Life in Penticton

We arrived in Penticton on Wednesday, April 13th, 2016. We had been here many times before, visiting family, but never for more than a few days. Now, it is our new home.
Our daughter picked us up at the airport and drove us to our apartment. We'd seen the apartment before, but my husband didn't remember it at all. I had a vague idea of its layout, but it was still a bit of a mystery. Our youngest son had purchased the apartment several years before, with the idea of living in it weekdays to avoid commuting from their out-of-town home. It didn't work for them like that, mostly something to do with the dogs. So, they used it for occasional guests, and more recently rented it to their daughter while she studied and worked in town. However, when we told them we were selling our Vancouver house, suddenly this apartment became available. So now we rent it from our son.
Emily had no problem with the idea of returning to her parents' home while she continued her job and studies.
So, here we are. We downsized from a 3-story house to an apartment roughly the same square footage as the basement in the Vancouver house. We've now been here a little more than seven weeks, and still have boxes to unpack and things to find places for. It's a challenge but we couldn't be happier.
As for my writing, there's a wonderful place called Cowork, a place where I rent a desk for 8 days a month, 9am to 5pm., with free Tuesday afternoons. It's wonderful. Quiet. No one bothers me. Just me and my computer for hours and hours. I've finished the 100 pages the agent asked for, and am about 50 odd pages into the second half of the book. I want to finish it all before I send the requested pages to the agent. I want to be able to send her the whole thing immediately if she should ask for it. I can only hope.
Cowork is a bit of a distance from the apartment, but I walk to and from most days, about 45 minutes each way. There is a bus that can take me most of the way if I'm feeling lazy. And I have used that a few times, going. But I always walk home. No--once I caught the bus and took it the long way, just for the ride.
Buses run only once an hour, so it's catch it now or wait an hour or walk. So I usually walk.Gives me lots of time to think and prepare for what I'll write when I get in front of the computer.

missed January

Not a very good start to 2015! Missing the first month of the year altogether! However, I guess there have been mitigating circumstances.
The second half of 2014 was occupied with my husband's health: first pneumonia which led to the discovery of lung cancer, then a TIA which may have been part of that. Then the last part of the year was filled with his thoracic surgery and hearing the beautiful words, "Cancer free"!  That good news was followed with the devastating event of him suddenly going blind.  Giant Cell Arteritis, is the new name we've had to learn. That's what attacked the optic nerve in his only eye (his left eye is artificial), and blinded him. Thanks to many prayers and massive doses of prednisone, some of his sight has returned.  But having a blind husband puts a whole lot of new responsibilities on my shoulders.  Whereas for decades I've relied on him to chauffeur me here and there, now I'm the chauffeur, the secretary, the cook, the nurse, etc., etc.  All the while, we're trying to live normal lives--me with my volunteering and writing, and him with his assorted activities all of which have been put on hold.
Yesterday, I took him to a Family Respite Centre, where he's spending three nights to give me a couple of days of rest. It's a nice place. Our eldest son spent a few nights there a month or two before he died of cancer.
So today I'm just doing a bit of this and a bit of that. Hence the blog entry--trying to catch up, as always!

missed October altogether! November catch-up

July, August, September & October this year have been filled with my husband's health issues.  He's had CT-scans, MRIs, x-rays, PET scans, a pulmonary function test, wore a holter monitor for 24 hours, had a bronchoscopy, and heaven only knows what other tests.  When he walks into the blood lab for yet another blood test, the nurses there call him by name.  I've lost track of the number of doctors he's seen in the past four months.  Pneumonia, TIA, carcinoid tumour in his lung which must be removed asap, and pain in his feet so terrible he can't even walk around the house from one room to the next.  Surgery set for November 17th, but he has other work to be done (on his feet) before then.  All this keeps us both very busy.

A special day in July

Today is our 58th wedding anniversary.  Not doing anything special to celebrate, I suppose.  But that will be different 2 years from now, our diamond anniversary.  Hoping for a letter from the queen that year. :)

missed April!

I was trying to post an entry at least once a month, but I missed April altogether.  Always a lot of busy-ness, Volunteering on Monday mornings making sandwiches at the cathedral, volunteering Tuesdays at the elementary school, and so on.  My university course on creative writing finished during the first week, and now I miss it.  I looked for my grades online, but couldn't find them.  I guess I'll have to try again, not that it really matters.  I took the course for the up-to-date information on what's happening in the writing world, and to have some assignments with deadlines and feedback.  I got what I wanted, and now I'm hoping to find something equally satisfying for next year.
One highlight of the month was the SunRun.  I signed up for the cathedral team--they needed one more person to make the minimum number (10) for a team.  I was #10.  I think one more person signed up after me.  My daughter also signed up--as an individual, I think.  But she had training, building strength and stamina by running a bit, then walking a bit, gradually increasing the running time and decreasing the walking time until she was straight running.  So on the day of the run, she and I were texting before the start.  She ran what she calls a shuffle-run, and I just walked.  Her time was a bit more than 20 minutes better than mine, so I guess I did not too badly.  It was only 10 km, and I did it in 2 hours and 20 minutes, I think.

January 2014 before it's over

Today I learned something about writing these posts:  can't use the tab key!  I did that and lost what I'd started to write.  I wonder if it will turn up again somewhere.  If it does, I have to edit it!
I started to say that one of the most important things happening in my life this month is the beginning of a course at UBC: Creative Writing 200.  Yesterday, we had a lesson on writing poetry.  I love poetry, but rarely attempt to write it.  Yesterday, we were given a short exercise to write a poem (essentially just a list of things) as suggested by one of the examples the instructor offered.  This is what I wrote:
"Please Take These Things Back"
Gloomy, drizzly, teary days;
Hot, humid, nights with sweaty sheets;
Tasteless food;
Nausea
Pain
Fear
Need to tell loved ones bad news
Need to ask for help
Dependence on everyone and everything
Hospital noises
Death.
~~~~~~I offer this in memory of Ken, who inspired it.

October and November

November swept by so fast this year that I hardly remember any of it. I recall that the weather was generally nice here in Vancouver. 
It began with my visit to the Okanagan to see my kids and their families.  I had only a few days, beginning on October 28th and returning home on November 2nd, but that would be the last full week with no "optional" meetings that could be cancelled.  The next time I'll have a full week free will be in April or May of 2014. 
Monday mornings are spent at Christ Church Cathedral, making sandwiches for the street people.  After sandwiches, I walk to the library for a brief browse and then back to the cathedral for the noon Mass.  The afternoon is supposed to be for writing, but I usually find myself too drowsy to focus.  Then on alternate Monday evenings, my husband and I attend Welsh language lessons!
Tuesday mornings are spent at an elementary school, reading with the children (grade 2/3 split) or helping the teacher with marking, etc.  Again, afternoons are not well used, unless napping is considered a virtue.
Wednesdays are generally free. I call it my writing day, but ... my heart isn't in it as much as it should be.  Tell the truth, I'm still grieving for my sons and grandson.  "Getting over it" isn't as easy as it seems to other people who haven't walked in my moccassins.  But I do try.
Thursdays and Fridays seem to fill up with appointments or chores, and Saturdays generally have some sort of meetings or workshops that need to be attended. 
Sundays, of course, begin with church, and end with visiting and social interaction of some sort. 
October and November had some evening activity:  I think it was four Tuesday evenings we went to the cathedral for lectures on St. Paul. The first was the most interesting because it was presented by a rabbi!!!!  He was extraordinarily well-versed in the New Testament.
And on Thursday evenings, 6 of them, I think, my husband and I decided to confuse our Welsh language studies by taking on New Testament Greek!  This was taught by a professor whose first language was modern Greek, but studied Koine Greek (not ancient Greek, spoken by Socrates and the boys, but about 500 years newer, Koine--which is already 2000 years old now and not the same at all as the modern version currently used in Greece--any more than the languages of Shakespeare or Chaucer or as found in Beowulf is used now by us).

February 14, 2013

It's a rough week:  Six months ago today Ken died.  Yesterday, Ash Wednesday, we interred his ashes along with his brother's--at least the urn that we had, which is only part of his remains. 
The thing about interring the ashes on Ash Wednesday--an appropriate day, we thought, is the impact it had on me when at church that evening the priest marked my forehead with ashes saying, "Remember that you are dust, and unto dust you will return."  It was more meaningful than ever before.  We had just been there and done that.  Our children were dust and have now returned to dust.  Just like the rest of us, eventually.
Furthermore: February 8th, Ken would have turned 54, February 16th would have been his brother, Frank's, 56th birthday, and on the 17th their dad, my husband will turn 80.  And, today, Valentine's Day (something we've never celebrated) was my husband's mother's birthday.  And the list goes on.  All the memories, happy and so very sad, all piled up in the shortest month of the year.  My dad's birthday on the 20th, and so on.  Just name it "Roller-Coaster Month".  But not a lot of fun.

A Different Christmas

It's a good thing we don't really celebrate Christmas the way we used to.  Once upon a time, when the kids were little, we did all the traditional things--big Xmas tree, big Xmas dinner, lots of gifts under the tree, and so on.
Then things changed over the years, and eventually we went from fake tree to no tree at all.  No special dinner.  No gifts.  Instead, we moved the feast to Epiphany, January 6th, celebrating the visit of the Magi to the Holy Family.  Gifts were woven into a couple of games, but no one was allowed to give us (my husband and me) anything.  Brunch instead of dinner.
For the past couple of years, some friends of ours have invited us to have turkey dinner at their home.  This year, that happened again.  But there were differences.
First of all, and most important, our son Ken was not here.  Usually he decorated his suite with little houses and trains, making a quaint village, decked with Xmas lights.  Even our Epiphany brunch, which we have yet to have, will be different because Ken is no longer with us.  He always brought gifts for everyone--especially the kids.  We'll miss him terribly this Epiphany.
Another difference: We haven't had a Xmas tree for at least six years.  This year, I went and bought a box purporting to contain a 4' tree.  I got it home and found it was marked "porch" and contained not one but TWO trees!  So one is in the small foyer and the other is in the sitting room.  They have white lights woven in the branches.  Quite pretty, but very simple.  Ken would have loved them, and would have had the foyer tree in his suite.
The third difference: My husband and I haven't exchanged gifts for many years.  This year, he gave me one.  He left it on the table in front of the Advent candles, and about 10 am Xmas day I finally noticed the gaily wrapped parcel.  It looked like a box of chocolates.  It had my name on it, from "The Magi".  I don't eat chocolate, so I thought maybe it was a box of candies.  Or a framed picture of the family.  No, it was exactly what I'd been voicing my desire for--a Kobo Glo. 
Not being very computer savvy, it took me several hours to get it set up, but I still have trouble using it.  I'm sure it's very simple once I get the hang of it.  But tomorrow I'm going to take it to the shop where he bought it and get the clerks there to explain why it isn't doing what I want.  My main problem is that all the instructions on the tablet are in Portuguese!!!  Go figure!
I've bought one book and loaded it on the Kobo, now I'd like to read it. 
The book?  It's called The Giver, by Lois Lowry (I think).  A young adult fantasy novel.

catching up again

Apologies to all those who have checked this blog in anticipation of finding something new.  As you may have noticed, it has been a hard year. 
After losing Ken, I tried to carry on as normally as possible.  Writing was the most difficult because it requires concentration and imagination and hard work.  It was easier to do simple housework (my least favourite thing to do). 
The first thing I did to try to help heal, was take a brief trip to the Okanagan to visit family members.  It was a brief respite, but too short. 
Then, in October, I travelled to New York to attend the Franciscan Chapter meeting with my husband.  After 5 days with the friars and other Franciscans, I was much more relaxed.  However, we no sooner got home when we learned about "Sandy", the monster storm, hitting New York City and surrounding areas.  I still haven't heard how the storm affected the friary.
Then, because our home was so empty--the cat died, Ken died, Dave left--we really felt we were rattling around here.  The only thing we could do was to get another cat.
So that's what we did.  Our new cat is Mona, age 2 years & 7 months and a couple of weeks.  She was a stray in Prince Rupert, then in the SPCA shelter there, then moved to West Vancouver shelter, then moved to Burnaby shelter.  I saw her on the SPCA  website and fell in love with her.  So, October 20th, we brought her home.  No more cages for her.  She is still a bit strange with us, not ready for sitting on laps, not ready for cuddles, but she loves to be petted and she purrs all the time.
Home is beginning to feel almost like home again. 

grieving

I'm looking again at Ken's obituary.  My daughter wrote it, and it's quite beautiful.  I can put the link to the memory book, too.  It's four weeks ago today.  It'll take a while before I stop doing this.  Everyone grieves differently, and there is no right way or wrong way.  That's what I'm told, anyway.