Just a thought…
I’m taking a long weekend. I know there’s one coming next week, but today I just feel like I haven’t anything to say.
Thank you for coming by and I hope to return tomorrow. All is well!
Erin
Just a thought… Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know. [Pema Chodron]
As always, you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.
Welcome in. I thought I’d move the journal up to Wednesday this week because, after a lot of talk and some big changes in our lives, I’ve come to a decision that a lot of people in grief come to – and it’s a good one, I think. And March 24th is the perfect day to tell you about it.
Because Rob and I, and by extension, Lauren and even her little family – then and now – have lived such a public life, something for which I’m very grateful and always will be, there are big days on our life’s calendar. One is May 11th – the day in 2015 that Lauren, our daughter, died.
But the other big one is the one we choose to celebrate today, which marks 30 years since Lauren was born at St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto. And from here on in, I’ll not be sharing memories or memes, pictures or thoughts on May 11th. Because it’s time. Time we marked the happiest day of our lives, and push the hardest one into the shadows.
Rob and I had a long talk about it this week. I know that on social media – especially Facebook – it’s all about the memories. But here’s the thing: I am done with sharing our sadness. I no longer want to pull you back into where we were that day; not when we’ve found so much more happiness in our lives since 2015.
In the past year, our grandson, the sweet seven-month-old boy she left behind that day after Mother’s Day, who is now six years old, has moved to within a few kilometres of us. We see him so regularly he has his own room, he’s set up with everything that he needs for sleepovers (and then some). Our house echoes with laughter and shouts of excitement over hockey games and Bingo wins, there’s mud, and chalk dust everywhere, along with library books, rocks, baseballs – you name it. In the past few months, Rob has even taught Colin to skate and to ride a bike without training wheels: all of the things he wanted to do with and for our grandson – and hopefully Colin’s sister Jane, our granddaughter – one day.
We have, as my book title puts it, “reclaimed joy.” And Colin now knows his story: our story.
This past Family Day, Colin was helped in drawing his family tree. Once his mom and dad had explained where he came from and who we are in the whole big picture, they asked him how he felt. And he said, “I’m really happy!” Puzzled (as we were when we heard) they asked him why. His response? “Because so many people love me!”
He couldn’t be more correct. But here’s the sweetest part of all: in conversations that followed, Colin realized that Lauren will forever be 24, as she was the day she left us. And he expressed sadness that she would no longer be celebrating birthdays. So…today, we’re going to her bench in Sidney – the one with a plaque on it remembering her. We’ll leave some tulips, and later, with his whole family here, we’ll have a little party and light the candles on this cake.
In so many ways, Colin and the generosity of the spirit of his mom Brooke and, of course, his dad Phil, we are indeed reclaiming joy. So, no more May 11th mentions – just quietly in our hearts – but we are going to celebrate this day from now on. This is what Lauren would want – all of this.
Today, instead of marking the day our lives went dark, we are lighting the way to a happier and more joyful future.
Just a thought… Great achievement is usually born out of great sacrifice, and is never the result of selfishness. [Napoleon Hill]
You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.
Monday. Spring. For us, the first full day yesterday meant having the fireplace log on the TV and trying to think warm thoughts amidst the mass of covidiots who are still out there protesting because they have to wear a piece of cloth or paper on their faces.
I can’t say any more here than I’ve already said…just that in the city of Kelowna, BC, where one protest of several hundred unmasked people took place yesterday, my dad is literally wasting away in a seniors’ residence. But that’s okay right? He’s 87 and obviously he doesn’t matter, when what really counts is being able to party with your bros and to hell with the rest of us.
The variants are spreading to the point where a third wave is looking more like a matter of not “if” but “when” and some of us are worried sick about those we love. Our friends. Our parents. Our children. Each other. Yeah, never mind. What a bunch of privileged sucks who have no idea what hardship really is. So…I’ll move on.
I had a four-way Zoom call with my sisters yesterday: one who lives in the Ajijic area of Mexico (near Guadalajara) with her husband and just got her first vaccine – tremendous news in that she lives with lupus – and my other two sisters, who are both in Kelowna.
We talked about the usual things: updates on how we are, what’s up with Dad and some ongoing mysterious withdrawals from his bank account that he has no idea about, Colin made a cameo to say “hi” to the coven, and then we wrapped up on a joking note, as we almost always do.
My younger sister Leslie, who, along with her husband Paul is doing bang-up business with a new concierge delivery service they named Better Call Paul (my idea, thank you!), was talking about wearing a mask so frequently: the pains and pluses. I told her to remember how much she’s saving on lipstick, even though I should talk. I still wear makeup when I go out and am constantly washing masks that look like the Shroud of Turin except with foundation or tinted powder.
Then she added that because she doesn’t spend much time in front of a mirror, she often forgets tweezer duties (and the girls on here will know exactly what I mean). We joked about how when Covid is over, maybe we’ll unmask, only to discover we all have the equivalent of hockey playoff beards. But I told her to look at the bright side: those whiskers could be acting like Velcro to keep her mask in place.
Right?
God, you have to laugh. When so many people have real hardships, you just have to. Like a pal of mine in the ER the other day who was getting medication on the spot for some severe pain. Two other guys were also in there and one was getting constantly contacted by phone. His ringer? A train whistle. I’m not even kidding. If it was me next to him, I’d have politely asked him to please put his phone on vibrate. Then if he refused, I might have been tempted to knock that Orange Blossom Special right out of his hand.
Honestly, if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. And really, haven’t we wasted enough makeup already?
Take good care and I’ll be back with you here on Thursday.
Just a thought… Challenges are what make life interesting and overcoming them is what makes life meaningful. [Joshua J. Marine]
*Before I get to today’s journal, I have a serious note here for you about this website. There have been repeated attempts to hack erindavis.com by what we assume are bots. The end game? Maybe ransom. My friend Lisa was a victim last month and it cost her a lot of money to rebuild her website. SO FAR they haven’t succeeded on ours and Rob is working on this in partnership with Graymatter, our web designer, to thwart whoever’s doing this.
But, if you come here and there’s nothing on Monday or it appears very different, please do join me at www.facebook.com/erindavispage or on Instagram @erindawndavis. I’ll keep you abreast as best I can, but know that we’ll still be posting and if worse comes to worst – after 18 years of safety here – I’ll bring erindavis.ca off the bench and move there. Wish us luck. We’ve already had my VISA card hijacked this week…so it’s been a few days here!
Now to today’s journal. You can watch a video version on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.
Hey – notice anything new over on the video journal? Check it out: we moved to a new set! Okay, not exactly, although over the years, Rob and I have been serial relocators. No, what happened here was a bit of a necessity – see, we have an apartment downstairs in this house, and we’ve got guests coming to stay in it starting in April. Yes, we told them about a six-year-old and a toddler here occasionally, and it’s gonna get loud up here in all of the best ways, but they’re coming anyway!
So we’ve set up a new space to record these. I also have two speeches to deliver – keynote addresses that are happening soon – maybe a Facebook live event for a company I’ve partnered with in the past, and just yesterday I was a podcast guest for the Vicar’s Crossing podcast: two priests from the London, Ontario area, believe it or not. So yes, this room is going to get busy.
I love this. Setting up my iPad and MacBook, getting the lighting so I don’t look like I’m in a horror show and all of the steps that you take to do something in your own house. It’s still really a bit of a miracle to me. And then I edit the video, post it on Facebook and Instagram, and Rob puts up my written journal.
I wonder how we used to do these five days a week but, of course, then it was just written, and then I tried an audio journal. Hard to believe that this Saturday will mark 18 years since I first wrote a journal at erindavis.com. And here we are. I won’t stop trying new things, just to see what you’re interested in – what isn’t too far above my skill set – and what provides more pleasure than headaches. So far, so good…at least on my end. Hopefully the same for you.
As I was writing and rewriting my keynote yesterday, I came across a wonderful quote that really sums up where all of us are today. After a year of losses – the loss of hope, the loss of plans, of security, for some, jobs and homes even – we all look forward to a day (variants permitting) where life can begin to look normal again. And on that day as we start to heal, no matter what it is you’ve suffered – from death and loss as we have in our lives, or from those other hardships and disappointments – this quote resonates so loudly.
And on that note, back to tweaking the room and setting up for the next Zoom. You take care and have a great weekend as we get set to welcome spring on Saturday at 5:37 am EDT. I’ll be back with you here on Monday.
Just a thought… Some people see the glass half full. Others see it half empty. I see a glass that’s twice as big as it needs to be. [George Carlin]
You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.
On this, the Ides of March, I turn my focus to the echoes of March – thanks to comments you made when I posted this on Facebook last week: that I’d always thought I didn’t clean because I didn’t have the time, but lockdown seems to have proven that wrong.
I was reminiscing about this time a year ago, when I thought: I’m not going to order a bunch of masks online – by the time they get here this will be over. Yeah, right. So I asked about your misconceptions, and I got some great responses. About 140 of them. I chose a few to share today and, as always, thank you for staying in touch through Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, email and in whatever way it is that you reach out.
A great many centered around connection. Judy B wrote: “I remember saying to my son on March 13th, ‘But we’ll still have Easter dinner, right?’ And he said, ‘Mom, I don’t think so.’ And here we are a year later, same conversation, same answer.”
From Lynn: “I was made aware of the huge inequality in our world. The ‘haves’ could ride it out and complain about being bored, not being able to hug your grandkids, couldn’t go south this year etc.. The ‘have nots’ lost jobs, some were scared, hungry, some were cold over the winter. I realized that cashiers, nurses, doctors, teachers, maintenance workers, shelter staff are the most important people in the world. I realized how lucky I am, and will never take it for granted again.”
Truly, Lynn, none of us will take the before-life we had, or what we cherish or miss most now, for granted. But I’ll suggest to you that even those who’ve been struggling the most also miss the hugs and grandkids and children and friends the most.
Because as Claire points out here, it’s not what we have, but who we have, that matters most. She says: “I’ve definitely been made aware of my strengths and weaknesses this past year, that’s for sure. I find myself quite often saying, ‘I don’t care,’ mostly about material things that surround me. I know I am picking up the phone to speak to my family members on a daily basis, rather than the usual, ‘I’ve lost track of time and really should call so & so.’ Oh, I also know that my husband and I apparently have a hidden talent when it comes to cutting and colouring hair, lol.”
Ah yes – the topic of hair came up a lot in your observations. JoAnn says her hairdresser made her promise she’d never try to cut her own again! And speaking of care, Brenda despairs for the plants she left in her office when they all bugged out – and this was an office where they had dealt with PPE for SARS and Ebola in the past. (Remember when we didn’t know what “PPE” even meant?) She thought she’d be back soon. The good news is, the plants were cacti, so there’s hope.
Mali shared this observation: “My biggest misconception was thinking that technology could be dehumanizing and cold and tricky to learn for some (despite a job which depends on it). I learned that students could learn effectively, build connections, elders could connect with family, individuals would innovate, inspire, create and communicate using whatever was available.”
And then, of course – because of the universal balance of yin and yang – there was the flood of misinformation and outright lies that people were fed, disguised as facts. Stella notes: “I always believed that if people were given scientific evidence from top medical teams around the world about precautions to take during this pandemic, they would abide by these rules in order to be safe and keep their loved ones safe. And yet, some people continue to do whatever they want to do to the detriment of everyone else.”
And finally today from Norma: “SO many changes in one year that we never saw coming OR never expected it to have the impact it did on our lives. If we have learned one thing through all of this, I hope it is the love of family and friends brings true happiness, not the ‘things’ we thought we needed.”
Yes – right down to the toilet paper and Lysol wipes. Remember when we treated our groceries as though they’d come from Chernobyl? We learned so much in the past year, but if your comments are any indication – and I believe they are – the biggest lesson to hit home has been something we knew all along: the importance of hugs, of hellos, of information and, most of all, of connection.
It’s why doing this with you means so much to me, and I appreciate you being here. We’ve a long way to go, but we’re heading there together. We can do this. Talk to you again on Thursday and thank you.