Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Be prepared for unexpected possibilities. Have the faith and humility to open yourself up to a variety of paths towards solutions. [Michael Newton, Journey of Souls]

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

Can we talk about the afterlife for a moment? Not my thoughts on what happens after life; I’ve made those clear in my book Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy. I believe with all my heart that we make a pact with our group of souls, and we travel with them from life to life. We’ll see Lauren again. If you’re at all interested, you can read the book that changed our lives if you like: it’s called Journey of Souls by Dr. Michael Newton.

But the kind of “after life” I want to talk about today is what happens when we leave. My dad is pretty much on this topic all the time. He’s 88 and he’s healthy, but his pride and joy right now – besides his four daughters, as he often tells us – is that he has all of his funeral plans, cremation, gravesite and everything taken care of.

As I’ve mentioned here before, he has his and mom’s headstone in his closet, and the year following his birth year 1933 and the dash is all that’s left to complete. Dark? Yes. Literally (in his closet) and figuratively. I called him on it last week and said, “Dad, can we stop talking about your departure, please?”

He responded that, at the time he goes, it’ll be emotional and we’ll all be so wrought with grief, and that’s when I stopped him and said, “Stop flattering yourself!” and we had a huge laugh. That’s how our relationship works. He chirps about the PM, I call him on his death talk, he makes the same joke about his walking and how, because of his cane, he’s “Cane and Able” and we laugh a lot.

But I am SO grateful to him for what he’s done. It’s not unexpected: as a pilot he was always at the airport way earlier than anyone else.

But seriously, I know of some people who’ve died without wills: our own Lauren, for one, who had life insurance (at 24!) but no will. If you don’t have one, do one. That’s it. It’s the most thoughtful thing you can do for those people who will have to deal with your after life.

It’s not morbid or bad luck; it’s thoughtful, loving and unselfish. DO IT, please. Google how to do a holographic will until you can get one put together, but don’t leave anything undone or unanswered. Please. Worry less about making people sad now that you’re doing it, and more about what they’ll go through if you don’t.

Maybe I’m fixated on wills because Friday my close friend Allan Bell said good-bye to his dear mother Betty at a beautiful service we were blessed to attend, if only online. If you knew and loved Betty too, and missed the memorial, here’s a link. She was a force of nature and my heart’s been with Allan through this immeasurable loss.

Maybe I’m thinking wills because I marked another birthday yesterday. But I’m reminded that the last thing I want is for Phil and Brooke to have to figure out what to do with our estate when we’re gone, so we’re mapping it all out. We’ve talked at length with them about it, about their children and how we should all manage their inheritance…this is, if we don’t blow it all before we go. (Plus there’s the added benefit that they have to be nice to us. LOL)

I’m asking – begging you – to use this season of change, this particularly appropriate season of autumn, to look ahead and take care of business. We all hope to live long and stay healthy. But no one gets out alive. And this is from me – the person who loves to ignore expiry dates!

Now get out there and live your best life.

Just a thought… You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have charge of. [Jim Rohn]

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

Welcome in – so it’s the first FULL day of fall and I asked yesterday on Facebook and Instagram for people’s one word favourite thing about this season. There were a lot of answers but most came down to C’s: colours, change, crispness and cozy (as in hoodies, sweaters and such).

We’re all for the cozy here on the island – Vancouver Island, but not Vancouver, if you’re new here – where fall and winter mean rain, although we have gone halfers with a neighbour on a machine so we can blow out those big wet snows (and our other 90-year-old neighbours’ driveway) when the white stuff comes. Hey – maybe it’s an insurance policy: if we buy the snowblower, we won’t get any accumulation…? We will park the convertible, use the fireplace and be grateful.

Speaking of cozy, I have a confession to make here: we did not change out our flannel sheets all year. Of course we washed them; we’re not in college for heaven’s sake (okay, that’s a confession too) but we never did give up the light flannel sheets we bought from Land’s End when we were in the States. Yes, even when my busy laptop is running furiously like a heating pad, my weighted blanket and robe are all on top of me, the flannel sheets stay. And yes, half of the hot flashes – or power surges as I prefer to call them – are self-induced. I get that.

So I mentioned Facebook. In the past few weeks I’ve had a few people say they just won’t go there to watch my journals because they despise the platform. I get that. It’s been a horrible source of misinformation and downright lies, and I’ve actually muted some folks whose political posts make my temperature rise more than any flannel sheets ever could.

But here’s the thing: for most of us, it’s the best way of staying in contact, as in the case of this journal. If you choose not to use Facebook, you’ve got other options, as you know from clicking the YouTube link above to watch the video journal, if that’s what you like. I’m trying to find people – you – where you are.

In the meantime, now that this election is over – one, as political journalist Chantal Hebert put it, “that nobody wanted, and nobody got what they wanted” – I hope we can move on to a gentler discourse again and get back to fighting Covid as one. Getting vaccinated. Believing the science. Protesting abuse of the vulnerable, and inaction on climate change, instead of nurses and doctors trying to save people’s lives, for heaven’s sake.

Things are messy right now, but we have to see a season of change as a time to make things better. Me? I’ll keep my head down, continue to mute where necessary and just write away, giving people stories to go to sleep with at night on Drift – flannel sheets or not.

Have a gentle weekend and I’ll be back with you Monday, my friend.

Just a thought… Life is short and the world is wide; the sooner you start exploring it, the better. [Simon Raven]

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

Now that summer has just moments left, I’ve been reflecting on this past sweet season. One of the gifts of Covid – and yes, sometimes we have to dig deeply to find them – has been discovering our own province.

Unfortunately, it was in my travels with my Ontario friend Lisa that we found two instances where we were not welcome, not even as fellow Canadians who were putting on our masks, putting aside our fears, and experiencing new places.

The first came on Salt Spring Island. We were standing in a store that sold hunting goods, some antiques and a few clothes. As Lisa lined up to pay for a shirt she had chosen, I heard an exchange between a customer and the man behind the counter. “Well, soon they’ll all be gone, thank goodness,” he said.

The clerk replied, “Oh yeah, the tourists?”

And the man said yes. I guess it was the streets being full, the stores being busy, the influx of people “from away” as they say in Newfoundland. Although I doubt that on the rock, we’d overhear a conversation like this one.

I told Lisa about it when we got to the car and we were both disappointed. My inside voice told me to tell him that his words were hurtful, as we’d chosen to spend our money and our time in their beautiful town. But I thought I should mind my own business, so I did.

Two days later, it happened again in Qualicum Beach, further north on our home Vancouver Island.

We were hungry and a little lost and saw a golf club that served food. A helpful man in the parking lot told us that the kitchen didn’t open ’til later, but told us we could get a nice lunch at the local grocery store. And he was right.

Off to Quality Foods we went and upstairs there was a lovely cafe. But what sparked our hearts were the items they had for sale: home accessories of all kinds, most of them straight out of a design magazine.

After we ordered our coffees and pastries, and shared a compassionate exchange with a cashier who, upon hearing that Lisa was from Ontario, told us that she was heading there soon for her mom’s funeral. Then we sat in comfortable armchairs at a coffee table near a window overlooking the grocery store below.

Just behind us, another woman, who worked in the upstairs gift store and coffee shop, talked to a man who was sitting enjoying his beverage. “I’ll be glad when they’ve gone home,” she said.

I didn’t think I’d heard right. Okay, maybe she meant the current shift workers, I thought. And then she kept talking and I knew she meant us. Tourists. Shoppers. Like us: the two women who were having just the best time in this store.

When we finished our coffees, I followed Lisa to the part of the store where she was browsing. I quietly said to her, “It’s happened again. They don’t want us here.”

Lisa, as she will tell you, has some difficulty hearing, so had not witnessed the conversation behind us between the woman clearing cups and the customer who was obviously a local. I ran their words through my head and thought: Have we done something wrong? And the answer was a resounding No.

Using the thought-flipping magic of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, I considered that maybe she was afraid of Covid and that people like us were bringing it in. Maybe she was having a really bad day and just wanted it to end. I can’t know, but I do know it wasn’t about us.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told Lisa what I heard, because like mine, her joy soured in that exact moment and we decided to leave. I could have bought all kinds of pretty things in the turquoise that I love in my home. Instead, I felt unwanted.

It crossed our minds to tell a manager or someone on our way out, but then we would only have reinforced her dislike of “people like us.” Whining? Entitled? Unwelcome.

Two poor privileged white women, feeling unwanted in a chic little store on a nice day out. I see how this looks! But it was also a learning experience. It gave me a window onto how some people have to live every day: feeling unwanted, unwelcome, disliked for no reason except that they’re there.

It was disheartening and I hope her day got better. I also hope she wasn’t working on commission…while I DO hope that the woman in the clothing store up further in Campbell River was. Because she made Lisa and me feel like family.

And we are.

Thank you for sharing this today and I hope you’ve taken the time to vote. Mine won’t mean a thing because our riding is greener than the landscape of Ireland, but I did it because I can and because I watch the news where some American states are trying to make voting more difficult, if not impossible, for people they don’t want to. We all belong and we all get a say.

Just a thought… To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often. [Winston Churchill]

As we like to say, the aim is “progress, not perfection,” so while I agree with Sir Winston’s sentiment, I will tell you that here with this journal, I’m not claiming or setting my sights on perfection, just improvement.

I’ve had a few people ask me via social media (particularly at www.facebook.com/erindavispage) if they can still find my journal in written form; the mere fact you’re here means that you know that I do write a journal as well as shoot, edit and produce a video version.

So here’s my quandary for the next two, including today’s: they’re both straight video. What happened was, we took Brooke, Phil, Colin and Jane away for a few days. It was a truly memorable and magical experience and we all came out just the right mix of rested and exhausted!

While we were there, Brooke came up with an idea: she would quiz me for my video journal on terminology that Gen Z’s and Millennials use, and see if I knew what the terms meant. (She’s always a bit surprised when I know what she’s talking about on social media!) So we shot a short, fun video that you can find HERE today. And on Monday we’re going to share with you a very real conversation (interrupted by some deer that were more ham than venison) about stepping into someone else’s shoes, as she has done so admirably.

Please forgive me if this is a disappointment to you. I know that for years this was written, sometimes daily, and that I’ve moved into new areas of sharing my message.

I promise that if you have any reluctance at all to push through with the technology (and trust me, if it were challenging, I wouldn’t ask you to) just drop me an email and Rob or I will walk you through any questions or concerns.

Know that I am thinking of you – the person who has been with me in thoughts and words since this began in 2003 or in the ensuing years. I haven’t forgotten you; I’m just growing and hope you will grow with me.

Next week, on Thursday, there will be the usual written and video journal options. But don’t miss these chances to meet Brooke, will you?

Just a thought… We’re all in this together and that’s the beauty of our family. Loss brought us together, but love keeps us close. [Brooke Russell]

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

Welcome to Monday and a brand new week. We’re away for a few days – three of them, actually – as we immerse ourselves in family and celebrate Grandparents’ Day! It’s Phil and Brooke’s first time out of the house with the kids overnight since they moved here a year ago, so we’re up island in a place called Nanoose Bay. We rented a house where the kids can (gently) have the run of the place, we can enjoy some nice time reconnecting – although we do see each other all the time – but just time together that we haven’t had since they stayed with us a month in July of last year.

So let’s talk about grandparenting. Rob and I are in a unique situation, but one that a lot of grandparents find themselves in, and that is one of welcoming a blended family. Of course Colin, is our grandson and then 2 years ago on the 30^th of this month, along came sweet baby Jane.

At first we were like – okay…so how will this work? We’ll want to be her grandparents, but will we be? And then we found that, just as we welcomed Brooke into our lives when Phil started seeing her, we just had to open our hearts. And once again, WE were the winners here, too.

I mean, look at these two.

At almost seven years old, Colin is an amazing big brother. He dances with her, puts up with getting hit now and then, wrestles with the remotes and all of those sibling things. But most of all, he loves her to the moon and back. And he makes her laugh. Even when he’s having a sleepover with us, he’ll FaceTime her and it will usually turn a grumpy girl into a happy little sister.

But I have to tell you about a truly memorable and magical moment that happened just a week ago here.

We were at our place, saying our good-byes as the kids were all going home, getting ready for Colin’s first day in grade two. He ran out to the car and was ready to go, but Jane stayed and gave me her version of a hug, where she walks up, puts her face against my legs and says “Bye Grama.”

Then, something happened that none of us expected, but all of us witnessed: she went over to Rob, put her cheek to his thigh and said, “I love you Grandad.”

Rob started to cry. Tears welled in Brooke’s eyes, and Phil put his hand on his chest. I just watched it all happen. This moment, this unforgettable moment.

It had a bittersweet element, because Brooke’s dad is no longer here and HE is her grandad too. I was thinking of that in the moment and wondering how her heart was holding up. But the sweetest part of it was seeing a bond that had formed between these two: Grandude and Janey, right before our eyes. A flash that none of us will ever forget, when Rob had a little girl tell him that she loves him, just as he did so many times, a lifetime ago.

And then I laughed, remembering what Lauren would do (as I mention in my book Mourning Has Broken): she would say to us both, “I love you,” and I’d say, “Thank you honey.” And then with a wry smile, she’d add, “I was talking to Daddy.” I’m waiting for that from Jane: “I was talking to Grandude.”

Here’s to the joys and gifts of grandparenting in all its forms: the so-called “traditional” families, and those that are chosen out of love. The quote above is how Brooke so beautifully put it; I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Have a gentle week and I’ll be back with you Thursday. Brooke’s going to put ME on the hot seat for a journal you’ll have to see – a hipster lingo questionnaire – so it should be awesome. Or awkward. One of those AW words.