Erin's Journals

Just a thought… If I cannot make it better, I will not make it worse. [Mira Frankl]

This is the blog I never wanted to write, but knew one day would have to be penned. And I will beg your indulgence in reading it.

On Wednesday morning, one of our dear Mira’s two sons texted to tell us that his beloved mother had died in hospital. After being unable to be roused from a deep sleep, she was taken Tuesday evening to hospital and passed away hours later due to heart, lung and kidney failure. Earlier in the week she’d been told it was a matter of days. Her 99-year-old body was tired and she was ready to go.

Alas, selfishly, we could never be prepared to say good-bye.

My friend, I could write a book about her amazing life, but would come up short in my efforts for “Mondays with Mira” and would not dare try. You’ve read some of my recollections of her life: a teen-aged prisoner of a Nazi work camp during WWII (who even dared to dilute the metal being used to make bombs to sabotage them), a gifted linguist who spoke languages so fluently that her captors assumed she was German (instead of Yugoslavian, which she was), and a beloved mother, adored wife and a cancer survivor.

I haven’t even told you that, against her husband’s fearful wishes, Mira, the second woman in Israel to get her driver’s license, would hide soldiers in the back of her station wagon and drive over mined roads – headlights off – to get them to and from the front during her early years in Israel, to which she and her Jewish husband relocated in the country’s infancy.

I could tell you these and dozens more stories, but what I might risk leaving out is how incredibly warm and wise she was. She called Rob and me “her kids” and could never do enough for us. She asked for little, but appreciated every moment we spent with her.

My final hours with Mira came last Monday, the day before her departure to the hospital. Her beautiful and strong fingernails (which never saw polish in her life) had grown so long that they were making her crazy.

I took my electric filing system, cuticle conditioner, nail treatment and hand cream. We spent an hour holding hands as I did her nails at the dining table; she was so thrilled with the outcome that she couldn’t stop raving and smiling. It took very little to make that face glow.

But nothing fulfilled her more than giving: in recent months she gifted us an old letter opener, a bathrobe of hers, two nightgowns she’d barely worn and an umbrella a friend had given her years ago. She tried to give us this ornament or that picture, but we told her we had too much stuff of our own!

And now a thank-you to YOU: her wonderment and joy at seeing the hundreds of birthday greetings September 1 on my Facebook page was thrilling. She was incredulous! Her appreciation of Dottie and Livi visits, her love of Colin and Jane and even her flirting with Mike Cooper (well, HE says she was) when he met her, were a joy to witness.

I will reflect often upon what we think gave Mira her longevity and sharpness of mind: this woman who continued to dominate at Bridge and her word search books, who read voraciously and enjoyed Jeopardy despite English being her, I don’t know, sixth language were inspiring.

She consumed no caffeine, nicotine or alcohol her entire life, and kept salt and sugar to a minimum (but loved her Chinese food). She ate small meals and stopped when she was full. We introduced her to new foods like pumpkin pie, but her all-time favourite was still the humble mashed potato.

She loved to laugh, cried unabashedly, and expressed her immense heart with no reservations. She never upset herself over things she could not change; she mourned those lost in the ongoing wars in the Middle East (on both sides) and worried over her friends’ children who reside there. She regretted being too ill to vote in the recent BC election. She hoped “The Woman” would beat Trump in the US.

That full, tired heart of hers was filled with love. Every day was a gift and she would awaken and say, “Well, I am still here, my dears!” when she would email or call.

Widowed, she loved her newfound life in Canada, especially in quiet Sidney, BC, where she settled 25 years ago, where residents and visitors alike revelled in conversations with the small, white-haired woman who would go out every single day with her walker (until the last two weeks) to get her groceries, to get her hair done and nails trimmed. Until last winter, she was a part an integral part of Sidney life through her dedication to volunteering. She gave and she gave until her body gave out. And when it did, she made sure it would be given to science. I hope she helps unlock secrets to healthy longevity!

Rob and I are heartbroken at her passing. No one in our lives will love as she did – without guile or reservation, with no expectations and only love and good wishes. She urged us to travel while we can, reminded us to be forgiving but not be taken advantage of. She herself gave and forgave, and although she is no longer at home to welcome us for visits, ice cream and whatever pastries she’d picked up with which to surprise Rob, we will always cherish those hours, those stories, those incredibly strong and sturdy hugs and countless kisses.

We will continuously marvel at how chance brought her into our lives. And our gratitude will be as unending as our love for her. Now she dances again with her beloved Zvonko and her dear grandson Avi in a place that knows no war, no winds – only joy and gentle breezes.

Her memory will always be a blessing. She showed us how to live.

Mira Frankl

Sept 1 1925 – Oct 23 2024

Just a thought…

We were practically singing (or was it “signalling?”) in the rain as we emerged into the BC downpour on Saturday from our voting station in North Saanich on provincial Election Day.

First off, yes, we had our voting on a Saturday! I love that, especially for the folks who work Monday to Friday and for whom wedging in time to vote negatively affects their already-busy lives.

Why the skip in our step? Well, there’s a feeling after having voted that I only get after rolling up my sleeve to give blood, or rolling down my sleeve after getting the latest shot to protect my health. Call it virtue-signalling if you like, but it’s far more than that.

For one thing, it’s a nod to our past as women. We have grandmothers who were the first in their lineage to have the right to vote. For another, it’s acknowledgment of other so-called democracies that face erosion and possible moves to fascism with increasingly blatant attempts to stifle the rights of those who can vote. Our system is far from perfect (I’d like to vote directly for the PM, for example, in the next federal election) but it’s the best we’ve got in this country of ours. If that’s more virtue-signalling, so be it.

For the first time, I found myself as somewhat of a quiet activist within my own family. You see, I have two nieces who were ambivalent about casting their votes in their first eligible election cycle; they weren’t “feeling” the candidates and didn’t see one who answered all of their concerns, whether they be trans rights, help for those who can’t afford a place to live, and so on – all legitimate concerns in the 21^st century, to be sure.

So I sent impassioned texts urging them both to vote on Saturday and to choose a candidate strategically: find someone most likely to protect or improve those things that are important to you, but who isn’t an outlier (as opposed to an out-and-out liar LOL). Do not support the one and end up eroding the strength of the party that is apt to do the most for your causes. Thus the “chess move.”

Even at our age, we leaned upon friends who had done more research and had voted early. We asked opinions. We didn’t just rely on pundits or predictions. We voted carefully. But most importantly, we voted. I got the sticker, and wore it out like a badge of honour.

There’s far too much at stake, both here and across borders and oceans, not to fulfill our duties as citizens. We can scream to the rooftops “How can it be this close!?!” about the US polls, but if we don’t get out to our own when we get the chance, just what are we signalling, anyway?

Just a thought… Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul, there is no such thing as separation. [Rumi]

I’ve been thinking a lot about gratitude lately. You know me: I don’t like to leave it unexpressed. This past week we had yet another reason to be especially thankful and I’m grateful to be able to share it with you on this Thanksgiving Monday. (Spoiler alert: it’s a happy ending.)

I’ve often talked here and on our Gracefully and Frankly podcast about Mira, our friend we met through volunteering about four years ago. She turned 99 on Sept. 1 and although we’ve seen signs of her enormous and giving heart slowing down, her energy waning, we have also been blessed to experience the joy she finds in every day.

Well, not every day.

Just before Christmas of last year, it was Rob and I who delivered the news to Mira that her dear grandson had passed away. The details aren’t mine to share, only that there had been estrangement from his loved ones for some time and that finally, tragically, his family got the call that no one ever wants to receive but dreads every time there is a ring or a ping.

Since then, we’ve watched again and again as a loving grandmother’s eyes filled with tears recalling her early years as a caregiver for her beloved, brilliant and sensitive boy.

Having deep and baffling grief in common, our ties strengthened even further.

Last Tuesday in the dark pre-dawn hours, Mira pushed the button on her wristband to call and be taken to the hospital by ambulance. Although we’re not sure, it seems she might have had a mild heart attack.

Rob and I spent time with her daily. And as we sat in the sunshine outside the hospital on Saturday, trying to avoid the smoke wafting towards us from patients and their visitors who lit up nearby, we talked for a good hour. When she wondered if her heart just simply broke last December and she didn’t know it, we told her we’d heard of something like Broken Heart Syndrome, which we’d witnessed when another elderly friend suffered a heart attack upon the death of her husband of nearly fifty years. (She recovered fully and is nearing her 95^th birthday this December.)

Our gratitude is not only for Mira’s homecoming yesterday, but for the care she received at Victoria General Hospital. The nurses, Simi and Prateesh, could not have been kinder; the doctor who came by to visit was gentle in explaining to her (through us) what he thought and what was happening next. Of course, Mira has a son who lives in the area and he was the primary recipient of updates (as he should have been) but we felt honoured again to have been part of Mira’s care team. She says we’re “her kids” and although we know our places, stepping up was just what family – and dear friends – do.

The whole week of hospitalization had a strange parallel: while my own dad’s residence in Kelowna, BC has been in lockdown during a resurgence of Covid (of which he has had a seemingly mild case himself this past week), it was healing to us to be able to be with Mira daily. The way her face lit up when we poked our heads around the curtain in her room, the pleasure she took in the walks and talks we shared for hours in the past week, were everything to us. They reminded us of how many patients and residents everywhere long for the contact we were fortunate to be able to provide. And as often as our health care systems across the provinces seem to – and often do – let us down, when she needed it, great care was there.

Mira said she asked her doctor why they should spend so much time and care on someone who is 99 years old; why they don’t spend that time on younger patients who need it instead. Of course, we laughed when she told us and I asked if we should just send her out on an ice floe somewhere.

But as she waved good-bye to us from her fourth-floor room window while we pulled away in our convertible in the late day sunshine Saturday, we felt as if we were the ones who were floating away from our anchor, our home, our love, our Mira.

In a lifetime filled with good-byes, we are thankful for the ones that are only for the shortest of times. Those are the partings my heart can take these days.

Happy Thanksgiving. Hug hard and often. And know that I am grateful to you for letting me share our stories.

Just a thought… There is no homecoming like the one where you’re greeted by someone – or something – that loves you, that missed you, and that can’t wait to show you just how much. [Me]

Well, we’re home and, most importantly, back in our own bed (although travelling with my own enVy Pillow and a weighted blanket makes every house, every hotel room feel like home). Which reminds me: in this Thursday’s Gracefully & Frankly Episode 94 (the Oh-So-Thankful edition) I’ll tell you about a problem that my beloved blanket caused me at the airport. Live and learn!

Behind the N-95 mask I wore the whole way home, I let myself have a rare cry on the flight from Toronto to Victoria; it had nothing to do with problems in the air, but seeing a sweet toddler and her mom brought on sadness and reflection on what – and whom – we were leaving behind.

As I hope you saw on FB we had some wonderful time with friends in the GTA and, of course, with family in Ottawa. It was all so sweet, in fact, that it made leaving all the harder, while we come back to a place we’re struggling to make feel like home. Isn’t that strange after nearly eight years of living here?

As this week includes meeting a new therapist online, I’m making plans to have things to look forward to, including a winter away, but for now it’s just the day-to-day. Waking up from dreams of being with Colin and wishing him an easy life as he moves into double-digits later this week, treading water in the milky soft memories of a trip that provided us with a bit of clarity: they are gone, they are happy, the blessed chapter of having our grandkids living nearby has closed.

I have a special video to accompany today’s journal that I think you’re going to love. I tried to be as calm as I could when we entered the condo to two happy dogs, but I finally caught a crazy homecoming on video in three parts: first, the welcome and a game we play every time we come back even from just a few hours away called “Where’s Daddy?” Then, the dogs giving us complete facials until I cried “I surrender.” First me, then Rob.

The voice you hear in the background on a work call and then laughing at the silliness of our antics is Celia, a friend-of-a-friend (and now ours, too), who stayed here for 12 days with the pups. They all became attached at the heart as well as the leashes, and we’re so grateful she gave them love, treats and care to the point where they still wander around looking for her.

And so, here’s the video. Our hearts are full of gratitude as we head into this week before Thanksgiving. And as we do, let me thank YOU for coming by, for watching my videos whether on grief (Not a Mourning Person) or listening to G&F or Drift with Erin Davis. You keep me engaged, just busy enough and grateful to have you and all of these projects to keep me going.

Be well. Enjoy the unbounded love in this video. (Oh and, yes, I got my hair cut and roots done the day after I shot this – yikes!)

Just a thought… To be in your children’s memories tomorrow, you have to be in their lives today. [Barbara Johnson]

As we prepare to make our drive westward and then fly home Wednesday, we leave the Ottawa area with a birthday – Jane’s fifth today.

Before I go any further, it is with a full heart and utmost respect that I recognize this National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, devoted to those children whose lives were altered, ruined or even ended by the residential school system here in Canada. Our months without our grandkids pale in comparison in almost every way to the pain suffered by parents and grandparents in years past due to systemic abuse. We remember and strive as a people to do better together.

To say that our week with them has been an emotional highlight in an often dark year would be an understatement; the laughter, the play, the adventures and the cuddles will have to last us a good long time, but we’ll make sure they do.

With their parents’ permission, a few pictures to share of our time with Colin (who turns 10 in October) and today’s Birthday Girl.

We all went to Jane’s first NHL game (Colin’s second) and Jane’s Senators won. Poor Colin hasn’t seen the Leafs win in person yet, but a great time was had by all four of us.

We played every day we were there in the two parks near their new home (it’s really a wonderful family neighbourhood and the small school catchment means they regularly run into classmates outside – something they didn’t do in their BC neighbourhood).

One park has such lovely memories for us: it’s where we played baseball with Lauren one final time in 2015 and she hit the ball so hard she broke an aluminum bat in half. Wish we had the two pieces to prove it to you, but yesterday we bought Colin and Jane their first aluminum bats. Thanks to genes and hours upon hours of practice at our BC home with Rob, the kids can hit. As for Colin…well, his major league dreams don’t seem to be as far out of reach as logic might dictate. (I know, I know, typical grandmother!)

Here’s a sweet shot from the park the other day.

Rob took Colin to an OHL game Friday night (home team lost, poor kid!) and we ate out a few times, spoiled them rotten and just enjoyed an entire weekend of being immersed in their sweet, silly, exhausting company while their folks took a couple of nights off.

I think this time with them has marked a turning point for Rob and for me. We see that they’re settled in well and happily, and as we move to the periphery of their lives, we’ll continue to hope they hold on to the memories as closely as we will, the way I remember precious time with my grandparents when I was younger.

When it comes to saying our good-byes in life, it’s all about how we get through them: finding those silver linings, holding on to the good and even using the not-so-good to remind us that some things can be for the best. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it.

So, my friend, we’re off to a birthday party today, grateful to have had this time with family and thinking of those who missed so many years with their own.

Have a gentle week. And thank you Ottawa for the most glorious weather this weekend!