Erin's Journals

Just a thought… To care for those who once cared for us is one of life’s highest honors. [Tia Walker]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Well…we’re finally settling in at home for the holidays. Between Toronto business travel and my not-so-friendly-skies experience in Edmonton in November, the turnaround trip to Mexico to help my sister recover from emergency hip replacement surgery (she’s doing amazingly and even performed – standing – at a Christmas concert last week) and then another journey to the BC interior last week, I haven’t been home enough to water the plants. Lucky for them, I don’t have any.

I’m here to brighten your day today, and I’ll tell you a story that perfectly sums up the yin and yang, the darkness and light of life.

We’ve all been through family struggles – whether it’s with our children, our parents, our siblings or other relatives – so when I told you about us moving Dad into assisted living, a great many people could relate.

It was a hard four days, both physically and emotionally, as my younger sister Leslie and I dug through nine decades’ worth of pictures (and some even older) deciding what to keep, what to let go. Medals and plaques and mugs and memories from a career in the armed forces, plus university honours and decades of singing and performing in community bands and choirs (and all the sheet music!); they all add up to a life that is slowly coming to its coda.

When Dad didn’t remember why we were hauling into his new suite a huge, 80-pound mostly-engraved tombstone – one which he commissioned after Mom’s passing in preparation for his own – we knew his memory was really gone. After all, he’s been so proud of the steps he’s taken to make sure that when he’s gone, his “girls” (as he calls my three sisters and me) would have no worries.

Well, the worries are happening now. Dad has been failing fast and the first night that sister Leslie didn’t stay with him on a cot in his new assisted living suite, he awoke and called 9-1-1 because he couldn’t get back to bed. Right away we were told by the people at the new place that, even though they had assessed him, he was not going to be able to stay.

In fairness to them, Dad did suffer a fall before he moved. EMT came and put him in his bed – no x-rays or anything – and he’s suffering physical pain now as well as mental distress. He’s practically talking in tongues, which to us points to a familiar bacterial infection that is blasting his brain.

Two days after we left, Dad was admitted to hospital. He’s in there now as we wait to see what the future holds.

So now let me tell you the brighter side to this story.

As our tiny plane landed on a dark, rainy Victoria runway, I got a ping from sister Heather who said that Dad remembered seeing Rob but didn’t recall me being there. That brought on more tears, having shed plenty when we said our good-byes just hours earlier. I knew his memory was failing, but it hadn’t hit me that hard before that moment.

Here he is in a gift I picked up during that long layover in Edmonton airport: a toque from his alma mater, the U of A. The same man who couldn’t tell me if he’d even had breakfast broke into three verses of his college fight song! What a moment!

And here he is Friday: same hat, same ol’ Dad, in the hospital awaiting more tests.

But the bright moment in all of this? After a very long, emotional stay in frigid Kelowna, tears on the plane and exhaustion setting in, we walked into our house and saw this.

With all of my absences since the start of November, Rob had taken it upon himself to bring the tree up from downstairs. But we’d still left it in a partial state of undress. Well, while we were in Kelowna, Brooke, Phil and the kids came over one evening and Brooke hauled out the decorations (along with a few she’d bought to add to our décor) and almost completely decked the tree.

With that, the two sides of the same family coin came shining through to me: the heartache, worry and pain of slowly letting go, and the warmth and peace, the joy even, that come from letting IN as well. With an open heart, mind and home, you might just find that, like me, even the worst hurts can be made better with some compassion and a little love. What else is there?

Take good care and please do enjoy tomorrow’s Drift Christmas story. It’s Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. Listen where you download podcasts or click here and don’t forget to go to envypillow.com and use the code DRIFT to receive 10% off your selections there. Our gift to you now and through the year to come. And thank you.

Just a thought… Life is a constant becoming: all stages lead to the beginning of others. [George Bernard Shaw]

Hello and welcome to a new week. This will be a short journal; I’ve had little success in publishing this for you in the past few attempts from afar, whether Ontario or Mexico. For the third straight Monday I find myself far from home, but at least I’m in the same province!

Rob and I are in Kelowna, BC helping my sister Leslie aid my father in moving from a retirement residence to assisted living. We thought when he moved out of the house he shared with my now-late mom that we managed to purge before we packed; that has turned out to be untrue.

It’s been a very long weekend of going through photos, letters, and so many mementoes of, not only his life, but that of his parents and even his grandparents. I’ve been quietly thrilled to find some of my homemade cards and some letters I wrote to Dad over the years. Many expressed how I missed him when he was away (as an officer in the armed forces). My artwork was heinous, my rhymes were pretty good and it’s nice to know they were treasured. Still, out they went….

Dad, whose mind has been slipping with alarming alacrity over the past year (we can pinpoint two long hospital stays: one with Covid and a severe infection, the second with gall stones and nothing short of neglect that led to his physical deterioration as well over a five-week period) and now we’re holding on to faint hope that he’ll manage to make a life here at his new home where there’s a nurse on call and the possibility of a fuller existence.

He’s his cheery self despite a fall a week ago that is causing him pain and as we try to wean him from my sister’s overnight assistance, we leave tomorrow knowing that he’s in good hands and we’re doing all we can for “dear old Dad.” He’ll forget by next week that Rob and I were here, but we know. And we’ll hope that this new step in his life lasts long and brings him comfort. And that the sister who’s taken on such a heavy load in caring for Dad is able to keep carrying it – for all our sakes.

I’ll be back next week and I promise a video journal. It’s been too long!

Just a thought… A true friend sees the first tear, catches the second and stops the third. [Angelique Arnauld]

Read to the end for a 10% discount at enVypillow.com – our Drift with Erin Davis sleep stories partner.

An early alarm goes off today and I’m back to Guadalajara’s international airport this morning, where the hour-plus long wait to get out after having arrived a week ago Saturday will haunt me for a long time.

If you haven’t entered Mexico, you may not know about their unusual way of letting you in: you gather your luggage (I had none), then get in a Disney World-long snaking line to hand off your customs card and then press a button. If the light is green, off you go; if it’s red, you get to have your luggage screened, opened, etc..

I got to my sister’s about two hours after I was expected; she was still hospitalized with that fractured hip (and immediate replacement), but a friend of hers met me and my cab to takeme into the house – the one that had just been cleaned by her friends (with fresh sheets on beds, etc.) before my arrival.

As I helped Cindy get up and mobile, fed her pills at the right times (not that she and her spreadsheet needed any aid), prepared meals, and helped in the night on her trips to the loo, I was struck by a feeling that will stay with me a long time.

It is this: wherever you are, make a circle of friends and keep them close. I am a hermit by nature; many of my friends are here. Online. You and I may not have met, but you are my friend. When I was stranded in Edmonton for over seven hours back on Nov. 5th, you kept me company on social media. When I was left without luggage for a big event the next day, thanks to the same ill-fated travel experience, you (specifically my “Teri Godmother”) came to my rescue. Further back, when we were struck by the biggest blow a parent can endure, you propped up Rob and me with your kindness and your huge gestures. You have always been my circle.

But Cindy has people she sings with, plays cards with, lunches with daily, goes to theatre and dinner parties with (and sorry for all of the bad grammar there – I’m too wiped out to care right now). These women all came by with cookies, pies, meds, flowers, know-how (an RN changed bandages some days so I didn’t have to), laughter and company. I know she’s in good hands and they’ll be with her now that I’m on my way home today, and with Cindy’s fortitude (Davis Steel may sound like a law firm, but I swear to God it’s in our DNA) she’ll be on stage at that concert two weeks from now, just as she plans. Never bet against Cindy.

I have a few friends on Vancouver Island – maybe three I could hope would be there if I was alone (don’t you dare, Rob) besides Phil and Brooke, of course. But I have to try harder. I have to step outside of my hermit-like existence and crochet a comforter of friends who will be there if I need them, as I would be for them in return.

I’m sure there are many people like me, whose lives are so completely interwoven with that of their partner that they’d be lost if anything altered to remove them.

Cindy’s friends are her sisters. Am I still glad I went down? Definitely. She says she’d have been put in a care home to recover if not for my trip and whatever help I might have been to her. But will those women be there for her in the weeks to come? Again, yes. After the year she’s had, they’ve proven themselves again and again.

I’m grateful, as I know she is, and I can only hope she’ll share this journal with them. Friends in good times are wonderful and easy, but a friend in hard times is a gift whose worth can never, ever be measured. 

I HOPE to have a video journal for you next week, but I leave Friday for four days in Kelowna to help Dad move. So, it may be brief.

Meantime, there is another Christmas story on Drift with Erin Davis, free for you tomorrow (and always) thanks to enVypillow.com with a very sweet and enticing offer from them: go to their website and input the code Drift upon checkout and you’ll automatically get 10% off whatever you purchase there. I just wish they sold pillow speakers too; they’re the perfect Christmas and holiday gift to allow you to Drift off to my podcasts.

This week’s story is Little Gretchen and the Wooden Shoe and, appropriately, given what I’m talking about with you here today, it’s about appreciating what life brings us, even in the hardest of times.

I’ll always be grateful for this connection.

Just a thought… A true friend sees the first tear, catches the second and stops the third. [Angelique Arnauld]

Read to the end for a 10% discount at enVypillow.com – our Drift with Erin Davis sleep stories partner.

An early alarm goes off today and I’m back to Guadalajara’s international airport this morning, where the hour-plus long wait to get out after having arrived a week ago Saturday will haunt me for a long time.

If you haven’t entered Mexico, you may not know about their unusual way of letting you in: you gather your luggage (I had none), then get in a Disney World-long snaking line to hand off your customs card and then press a button. If the light is green, off you go; if it’s red, you get to have your luggage screened, opened, etc..

I got to my sister’s about two hours after I was expected; she was still hospitalized with that fractured hip (and immediate replacement), but a friend of hers met me and my cab to take me into the house – the one that had just been cleaned by her friends (with fresh sheets on beds, etc.) before my arrival.

As I helped Cindy get up and mobile, fed her pills at the right times (not that she and her spreadsheet needed any aid), prepared meals, and helped in the night on her trips to the loo, I was struck by a feeling that will stay with me a long time.

It is this: wherever you are, make a circle of friends and keep them close. I am a hermit by nature; many of my friends are here. Online. You and I may not have met, but you are my friend. When I was stranded in Edmonton for over seven hours back on Nov. 5th, you kept me company on social media. When I was left without luggage for a big event the next day, thanks to the same ill-fated travel experience, you (specifically my “Teri Godmother”) came to my rescue. Further back, when we were struck by the biggest blow a parent can endure, you propped up Rob and me with your kindness and your huge gestures. You have always been my circle.

But Cindy has people she sings with, plays cards with, lunches with daily, goes to theatre and dinner parties with (and sorry for all of the bad grammar there – I’m too wiped out to care right now). These women all came by with cookies, pies, meds, flowers, know-how (an RN changed bandages some days so I didn’t have to), laughter and company. I know she’s in good hands and they’ll be with her now that I’m on my way home today, and with Cindy’s fortitude (Davis Steel may sound like a law firm, but I swear to God it’s in our DNA) she’ll be on stage at that concert two weeks from now, just as she plans. Never bet against Cindy.

I have a few friends on Vancouver Island – maybe three I could hope would be there if I was alone (don’t you dare, Rob) besides Phil and Brooke, of course. But I have to try harder. I have to step outside of my hermit-like existence and crochet a comforter of friends who will be there if I need them, as I would be for them in return.

I’m sure there are many people like me, whose lives are so completely interwoven with that of their partner that they’d be lost if anything altered to remove them.

Cindy’s friends are her sisters. Am I still glad I went down? Definitely. She says she’d have been put in a care home to recover if not for my trip and whatever help I might have been to her. But will those women be there for her in the weeks to come? Again, yes. After the year she’s had, they’ve proven themselves again and again.

I’m grateful, as I know she is, and I can only hope she’ll share this journal with them. Friends in good times are wonderful and easy, but a friend in hard times is a gift whose worth can never, ever be measured. 

I HOPE to have a video journal for you next week, but I leave Friday for four days in Kelowna to help Dad move. So, it may be brief.

Meantime, there is another Christmas story on Drift with Erin Davis, free for you tomorrow (and always) thanks to enVypillow.com with a very sweet and enticing offer from them: go to their website and input the code Drift upon checkout and you’ll automatically get 10% off whatever you purchase there. I just wish they sold pillow speakers too; they’re the perfect Christmas and holiday gift to allow you to Drift off to my podcasts.

This week’s story is Little Gretchen and the Wooden Shoe and, appropriately, given what I’m talking about with you here today, it’s about appreciating what life brings us, even in the hardest of times.

I’ll always be grateful for this connection.

Just a thought… Don’t Stop. Be Leaving. [takeoff on a Journey song, and the perfect door mat for me this week…]

This journal was actually written Friday night when I had a second, so I’ll fill in more details as I experience them!

Well, I can’t quite believe it either, but as you read this, I’m out of the country. Why? Did Rob and I have a fight? Can’t I stand it in beautiful BC? Did I only come home to mess things up, see the kids and grandkids and leave again? If I was on the radio I’d say, “We’ll give you the answer…right after this!”

Um…brief break…SierraSil ad and on we go….LOL

The answers to all of those questions are: NO. In fact, I got home last Wednesday and the house was spotless; Rob had also put up the Christmas tree (lights, bows were on it from last season, but the ornaments will go on when I get a moment), the garage was tidied, there was firewood cut, two new chairs had been assembled (plus he helped upholster some for family), the sheets had been changed, there were roses on the table and steaks ready for dinner and…I can’t even complete the list of all of the things he accomplished. I mean, all of those accomplishments alone would be enough for me to leave town again very soon, but the reason is much more unfortunate.

On Thursday night I got a message from my sister in Ajijic, Mexico (an enclave of mostly American and Canadian citizens in which she’s lived for four years now) that she was in the hospital.

Cindy slipped on a wet sidewalk and went down hard, fracturing her hip and requiring replacement surgery on Friday. It went well, she says, but it’s going to cost her some $10,000 since her lupus precludes her from getting health insurance. Since she’s been alone all this year (yes, that sister with the husband of 40 years who left, and so on) I couldn’t imagine her recuperating alone.

Saturday at 7:30 am I was at Victoria International Airport. AGAIN. But no “wheel of luggage fortune” for me: this time, it was just me and my carry-on. Cindy and I share the same size and I plan to raid her dressers and closet while I’m there.

I flew to Vancouver to catch a 1:30 pm flight to Dallas/Fort Worth, with a 90- minute turnaround to get myself on a flight to Guadalajara, Mexico. From there, a cab took me to Ajijic where friends met and took me to Cindy’s house, where preparations had been made for her homecoming and recovery. She’s fit and young-ish, and she tells me she has a concert booked in three weeks (she sings, plays piano/organ and harp) and if I know Cindy, she’ll try not to let anyone down. We shall see if New Hip Cindy (not New, Hip Cindy LOL) will make it to the performance. I would never bet against her, especially with the year she’s powered through.

There are a lot of things for which to be grateful right now: most of all, that I have the resources and time to be able to fly out at nearly a moment’s notice, to help a family member. Rob and I are already booked for early December to fly to Kelowna to help get Dad’s new place ready for his arrival. He’s STILL in hospital there, so we need to get him some rehab quickly before he completely forgets how his legs work.

The whole coven of sisters – even from afar – is working to make it happen and we’re all happy with the new place he’s going. Best of all, so is he! Something else for which to be grateful: the temp these days where I’m heading are in the upper 20s Celcius. So that’s a definite plus.

That is quite a bit of news for you for now – sorry I didn’t have time to shoot a video journal, but I know you’ll understand.

In the meantime, thank you for being here. Another new Christmas-flavoured story drops tomorrow on Drift with Erin Davis and yes, I’ll post pics at FB and on Instagram if you care to see what it’s like in Ajijic (pronounced ah-hee-HEEK). It’s my first trip here.

Hasta La Vista, Baby….E.