Erin's Journals

Hello again – I trust you were able to stay warm and cozy this weekend. We were fully immersed in winter weather on our drive from downtown Toronto to London, where friends Lisa and Derek welcomed us and we caught up with our dear pals while getting our bodies back on eastern time.
 
Yesterday as we headed back into Toronto to stay with our dear and longtime pal Robina and her family, we made some more connections, stopping by my niece Meaghan’s home in Orangeville to catch up with her and her little family of beautiful boys, and then to Brampton to meet the bereaved mom Luisa that I told you about here a few weeks back; her son Anthony died at the end of February and since I had worked with him, she reached out to me.
 
We just made such a heart connection on the phone, I told her I wanted a chance to sit with her over a coffee. And it was amazing. I hope to tell you about it here a bit later in the week. Today I want to remind you of something special happening at 4 o’clock local time this afternoon.
 

 
On Thursday, after the meeting at HarperCollins, Rob and I had the lovely opportunity to chat over dinner with Gerry and Lucy from New Wave Travel. We were getting more and more excited as the dinner progressed, discussing next year’s Tulip Time AMA Waterways river boat cruise from Amsterdam to Belgium and back. Some couples are spending a night or two in London before hand, another in Paris.
 
It all sounds so exciting and we’ll talk more about it this afternoon during a webinar at 4. This chat is going to include Mike Cooper, at whose house we’re staying tonight and tomorrow. We can’t wait to catch up with the Coopers on the shores of Buckhorn Lake, fire blazing and tea cups in hand. Debbie and I have lots of girls stuff planned (reiki and a spiritual reading) and Rob and Mike will do some odd jobs and then just head to Rama together. 
 
They always have such a good time when they’re together, our boys; just as Debbie and I connect on a much tamer level. How we miss these two in our daily lives!
 

This week, many of us met a man we’d never heard of (in fact, I can only hope I’m saying his first name right in my audio journal) but who has already become a hero to me. 
 
His name is Yangervis Solarte. He came to us in the off season from the San Diego Padres and because of some injuries, he’s been called in to play with the team in the infield. This is the guy who has claimed the area in front of the Blue Jays’ dugout as his dancing zone; when there’s a home run, he’s got his hands in the air like he just don’t care, and he’s already proven a great source of energy and entertainment for teammates and fans alike. You can follow him on Twitter @solarte26.
 
Sure, we’ve seen spirited players before. But the Venezuelan Solarte’s story is what resonated with me most clearly. In September 2016, about a year-and-a-half ago, his 31-year-old wife Yuliette died from complications due to cancer. Spots were found on her liver when their youngest was born two months early. Yuliette left behind three daughters, now aged 8, 6 and 2. That means that, like our Colin, that baby girl was left without her momma, as were her sisters. A husband, undoubtedly overwhelmed, lost his life partner and became a single dad. 
 
How has he embraced it? A journal visitor tells me that in Dunedin this year, where the Jays train in the spring, Solarte’s girls were in a private (which is not so private in the confines of the park in Florida) box. When Solarte came up to the plate, they yelled, “Daddy! Daddy!” to which he responded with a smile and a wave. When he hits a home run, he does the alligator snap with his arms, and that’s for his girls. 
 
I’m going to go ahead and guess that everything he does is for his girls now. As Solarte himself said of his late wife, “Everything was for her. She always told me that whether she dies or doesn’t die, I can’t stop playing. Because all of the goals I set for myself, they were for our daughters and I had to be able to assure their future.” 
 
This reader told me that there was a lady there taking care of the girls at the game; a new mother figure, perhaps. Who knows? If she is, great! As we’ve learned from our own experience with Phil and Brooke, having that spot filled quickly can be the best thing for everyone – better than anybody on the outside looking in can possibly imagine – and if you care about and love that little family, you only want their happiness. That’s where we find ourselves, and I hope that Mr. Solarte’s family does too. Everyone deserves happiness.
 
That’s why today as I write this journal I am thinking of my sister Leslie. It’s her birthday and comes just 5 days after she marked one year since her son’s violent death in what we believe to be a homicide in Kelowna. RCMP aren’t saying for sure, as it involved a house explosion and fire. But there are plenty of suspicions and it appears the wheels of justice are turning slowly. We’ll wait.
 
Leslie and her family pulled up stakes – or perhaps put them down might be more accurate – after living a somewhat nomadic life both in Canada and the US. They’ve now moved to Kelowna to be closer to Leslie’s late son’s baby boy (with whose mother Leslie has a wonderfully close relationship), and to be near Dad and the Davis sisters. She made her new life and is proving that, in her way, she can dance outside the dugout, too.
 
We all can. It’s finding reasons to celebrate, discovering that one sweet berry amongst the bramble and thorns and always remembering that grief has no timeline and definitely no rules about dancing – or not – whenever you feel like it.
 

Well, we’re back in Ontario I’d almost forgotten how cold April can get. Almost. We may have left our shovels here when we moved in late 2016, but at least I still have a good warm coat! The winds when we landed at Pearson were gusting up around 90 kilometres an hour. I could barely park my broom! 
 
Last night a bunch of us gathered at Peter’s Fine Dining in Markham. Recommended by locals (including man about town, our fabulous own Allan Bell) and reviews alike, the main reason we chose it was because we could request a private room downstairs – with its own bar – where our celebrations wouldn’t raise any eyebrows or disturb fellow diners! I know how much we laugh when we get together, especially with Mike and Debbie Cooper, who were a surprise element of our gathering, made so effortlessly wonderful by our host, co-owner Tom Columvakos and his carefully attentive staff.
 
A few others, like best pal Allan Bell and his mum Betty, our sweet CHFI promo host Jackie Gilgannon (with whom Rob and I feel a special closeness), midday goddess Michelle Butterly, former production buddy Chris Shapcotte and our dearest friends Ian and Anita MacArthur were also there. I didn’t invite everyone I’d worked with at CHFI – after all it was Rob’s birthday party – but another co-worker was there in spirit: the amazing Angela Morra, who has made special cakes for the big events in our little family’s life, from Lauren’s shower to Colin’s first birthday cake, came through in fine, fine form with this glorious Hofner bass cake (just like McCartney and Rob both play) plus the edible sheet music and lyrics to “When I’m 64” marking Rob’s Beatles Birthday!
 

 
Yes, that’s what we called his 64th. I know next year he’ll feel pretty cruddy about becoming a “senior” (while I plan on going into full-on denial about being married to one, LOL), but we recall that as ambivalent as he felt about turning 60, it was also that month that we learned Lauren was expecting, and that was our last full year with his girl. So we learn never, ever to begrudge a birthday.
 
I just felt that being in Toronto and near friends, it would be wonderful to have a reason to celebrate. We find we have to do that, otherwise things fall by the wayside and wither from neglect. A chance for joy is lost….
 

 
I had a meltdown on Easter Sunday when I was going to deliver a bag and basket of treats for my aunt, uncle, cousin and kids and realized when we were scurrying to leave them quickly and quietly at the door of my (then) ailing aunt’s house, I’d forgotten half of the goodies at home.
 
First I was angry, then I just started to full on bawl. “Nothing matters,” I sniffed. “I don’t know why I even try. Nothing even matters.” Rob said he wished he could console me, but this is how he feels so much of the time.
 
So I’ve decided now that my job – our job – is to make things matter. To turn ordinary days into special ones; to recognize the importance of friends and family who are there for you day in, day out – and even long distance. Because, damn it, life is TOO short. So we had cake on Tuesday and cake twice yesterday (once with our dearest friend Helen in the afternoon, our first stop after that bumpy landing). You watch – it’s been Rob’s birthday but guess who’ll gain the cake weight???
 
On that note, in the next eleven days or so we’ll mix a lot of business with pleasure, just as we did yesterday. I’ll share more with you here tomorrow and if there are any audio or journal glitches today, forgive me – my producer and partner was partying a bit last night (at my insistence). I mean…it was his birthday after all and you saw the picture of him and Cooper. And then I make him come back to the hotel room and record, edit and post this? Fingers crossed! 
 
Take good care and we’ll wrap up this week here tomorrow with a story of a very special man you may have just met yourself.
 

Hi there. Off we go to Victoria’s sweet, light-filled airport: today (as of 5 am – ugh – did I ever really get up this early, or earlier?) we fly to Toronto to begin nearly two weeks of meetings, socializing, combinations of the two and, yes, even some work! As luck would have it, I was hired to emcee a day of events for the Canadian Real Estate Association in Ottawa next Sunday. And so our travels will take us there, which just happens to be where a certain three-and-a-half year old boy is living with his folks. We cannot wait! For today, though, it’s flying, renting a car, visiting with good friends and celebrating Robbie.
 
Today, Rob’s having his “Beatles” birthday. Yes, my husband (who, I will point out is 9 years older than I) is going to be asking if I’ll still need him and will I still feed him now that he’s…a new age. He doesn’t take kindly to birthdays – despite being grateful for each one, as life teaches us to do – so this may be the last one we actually “celebrate.” I hope to have some pictures and stories to share with you later in the week or perhaps even next week when we catch our collective breath and are able to do journals that demand just a bit more time and work.
 
We’ll be staying in a few hotels, but mostly other people’s homes. Only one (my pal Lisa’s) has a studio, so I may borrow her facilities to do my audio journal. Or, heck, maybe she and I will do another one together!
 
While we’re in the air, we’ll be preparing for tomorrow’s first big meeting at HarperCollins. Of course, I’ve been in the caring and gentle hands of senior vice president Iris Tupholme since the start of this great adventure in December 2016. But we’ll be discussing layout, cover and, yes, the title. 
 
Here’s where I need your opinion and I will try not to sway you with what I think; I’ll try to give you a little background as we go, though.
 
In our home, the working title of this book due out next February, is Mourning Has Broken. A play on words, I’ve spelled mourning with a U for a particular reason: of course, it means that the sadness has come to an end. While that may still be blind optimism on some days, it is also meant to convey that the mourning can be broken; there can be hope and joy again. It’s what we’re living for and hopefully what the book is about, at its heart.
 
However, there’s discussion, too, of calling it Morning Has Broken like the Cat Stevens song of the 1970s. (If you aren’t familiar with it, it has a hymn-like feel to it and, yes, we sang it at Folk Mass in church when I was a teen. It fit perfectly.) Morning in this case could well refer to the thirty-plus years that I began my day – and if I’m lucky, yours too – and how that forged the connection that would one day be the source of support and wisdom and kindness that Rob and I would come to need desperately. It could also refer to my mornings having been broken to the point that I couldn’t keep doing the wakeup show that I loved so much. Hmmm. So many layers, right?
 
Before we choose a title (with the likely parenthetical title A Mother’s Journey Through Grief) I wanted to hear your thoughts. After all, this should be something easy to remember and that makes sense. And goodness knows you’ve been a part of so much of this entire process. If you could – since I’m having such email trials (which I mentioned here yesterday) – please use the Facebook page on which this question is posed. Again, here is the question: Mourning Has Broken or Morning Has Broken? And if you have a better title idea, fire away! 
 
Have a good day and thanks for coming by. We’ll be back with you here tomorrow and I will try to remember to change the “time zone” setting in my posts before then!
 

I hope you had a wonderful long weekend, that the Easter Bunny was good to you (or stayed away, if that’s what you were hoping for) and that the spirit of renewal and hope is in your heart.
 
We went light on chocolate (the bunnies in the backyard were warned beforehand) but had a peaceful and productive weekend, pairing pictures with book chapters and getting the book out to our editor/publisher before this week’s meetings in Toronto. I’m going to ask you a question on my Facebook page tomorrow and I want your honest opinion about an idea I have for the title. If you haven’t joined me there yet, here’s a link. It’s easy, no one will take your data (just don’t give them any) and you’ll be able to join the journal conversation, too. 
 
Speaking of conversations: I officially am no longer attached to my Rogers email account (the one at work) and I’m afraid that there’s been a bit of a glitch. If you have written to me there in the past few years (or weeks or days) you may not hear back from me. In moving my work emails into my home account, I was aghast to see some 25,000 (I initially thought 22,000 but the numbers kept rising) moved in. Most of them had been answered or deleted or both in the past year or two. But there they were again…and all I could do was watch with dread. 
 
By Saturday, I had cut them down to 2,000 and feel a lot more in control. But here’s the thing: the reason I wanted to hold on to these is not for some last vestige of my old life, but because I felt that I owed a response to those who wrote to me when they heard of my resignation or upon my leaving. Upon trying to answer a few during the down time between book edits in the past few months, I discovered emails that had deeply personal comments and such beautiful remembrances that I couldn’t just leave them unanswered! However, that may be where we find ourselves now.
 
I just don’t know how I’m going to tell the ones I’ve answered already from the ones I have not, and sending yet another “Hey, I’ve moved and here’s where you can find me” email to people who have already received one is just not kosher. So…I’m between a rock and a hard place.
 
Granted, the common response among those to whom I sent notes in the past year was that they didn’t expect to hear back from me. And I know it’s foolish, but I have always lived by the rule that if someone writes, you write back; if someone gives you a gift, you send a thank-you. They’re interlaced, in my books. I never, ever took your kindness for granted. And it’s another reason I’m urging people to start communicating with me through the FB page rather than emails; even if it’s just a “like” I can let you know I’ve read and am grateful for the feedback and the visit.
 
I don’t know what to do. But this time I may just have to, as the song goes, “Let it Go.” Those who want to stay in touch with the journal have – I hope – found me by now. It’s easy to find with a simple Google of my name. 
 
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some packing to do. We fly out tomorrow and there’s a two week trip with a sweet little boy waiting on the end half. I will be journalling while we’re away, too. Should be lots of fun and I hope you’ll come along for the ride!