Erin's Journals

Just a thought… An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior. [Viktor Frankl]

I’m typing this, my screen dimmed, from my seat on a plane Wednesday night and we’re bound for home. Coat on for coziness, I have a little pile of pretzels in my lap and Rob’s patiently waiting for me to finish so we can watch When They See Us – the multiple Emmy-nominated miniseries about the Exonerated Five (formerly the Central Park Five). It’s the telling of a terrible chapter in NYC history: the story that could have had an even more tragic ending had Donald Trump gotten his way and the five innocent men had been executed.

I spent yesterday in a bit of an altered state juggling a combination of fatigue, deep satisfaction, sadness and a whole lot of gratitude. A large part of me didn’t want the trip to end: speech after speech, our message just kept getting easier to deliver, my heart opening a little wider each time to share everything that is inside.

I’m sorry that I won’t be talking about our lessons learned through the living and writing of Mourning Has Broken, as well as the indelible experiences that have come our way through meeting people in the aftermath of its publication.

But our new life’s road has more than one lane and it’s time to signal, check our mirrors one last time and veer into the slower one. I’ll get used to it in a few days (after we get through five different appointments back in Victoria today) but it’s not going to be easy.

Fortunately I have the support of a whole bunch of really good people in a group that meets daily at noon (plus a counsellor I’ll see this afternoon) who will help me to make the transition back to normal life – whatever that is.

I love to use the quote above from Dr. Viktor Frankl in my presentation. (You may recall I’ve mentioned his brilliant book, Man’s Search for Meaning in the past.) What’s normal about standing up and talking about the worst thing that can happen to a parent – always staying composed and delivering the message in a way that could, at times, be called funny (at least I hope so – I put plenty of laughs in there for a reason)? Nothing about it is normal, so why should my reaction be, right?

What I’ll miss are the stories: the people who stand up during Q & A afterwards and tell me their children’s names and how they’ve coped – or not coped – after losing them. The people who sat with us in a circle at Bereaved Families of Ontario last week in Oshawa and, one by one, told Rob and me who their child was and how they died, and when. The women and men who lined up after events for books, signatures and then hugs and photos. (I found it hard to smile for the camera when asked to pose with people who’d just told me of their loss; that’s a strange moment when you both just want to take in that connection….)

I’ve come away from this trip sure of a few things. Let me share them with you before I power down for the flight and, really, the winter (when it comes to work).

1. I miss being that Erin. The one who had the immense privilege of talking to people every day. I hear from people who miss the days of our radio show and I honestly tell them that I miss it, too. But there’s really no returning to the medium that I loved – only looking ahead. After all, as the saying goes, there’s a reason why the rear view mirror is smaller than the windshield. We have to keep our eyes on the road ahead. But yes, I miss radio. I miss laughing more with Mike, Ian, Gord and Steve before 5 am than most people do in a day. But I emphatically do NOT miss 5 am!

2. What comes from the heart, goes to the heart. A good friend at the time, Dr. Alvin Pettle, told me this decades ago and I think of it every day. Whether among a crowd of business leaders, bereaved parents or people who work in hospice and care for those who have lost or are in the process of losing loved ones, a message that comes from a place of compassion and experience, is welcomed by almost everyone. How lucky I am to be the one who gets to deliver it!

3. Toronto traffic (and that in Mississauga, Montreal, Ottawa and seemingly almost everywhere else our rental cars took us) is hopeless. Taking the UP Express from Union to Pearson on Tuesday to meet up with Rob, so we could have a few minutes to freshen up before the evening event at the Convention Centre in Mississauga, was the smartest decision of my trip. For $11 I sat on a comfortable train for 30 minutes and missed every slowdown, snarl and closed lane.

As we poked along in the car at 15 km/h on our way to the hotel from my airport pickup, I wondered: how do they do it? I asked myself how people – perhaps like you – survive the daily frustration, rudeness, tedium, and unbearable and apparent futility of sitting in their cars for hours on end to get to their job, rain or shine?

And then I remembered everyone on this trip and for the years before I announced I was leaving (three years ago today, as I recall) who thanked us for keeping them company on the drive. Again, how lucky I was to have a chance to do that! Thanks for the ride.

I could go on, but I’ll sign off for now. It’s been a pleasure to spend a bit of this (so far) smooth flight home with you. So thank YOU for keeping ME company. I’ll try not to think about the fact that I forgot to close the locks on our suitcases, so excited was I about getting to the desk and checking the luggage myself while Rob was taking back the rental car.

When I tweeted about it, several folks answered that they never lock their luggage (?!?) but I figure if anyone opens them they’ll just get a whole bunch of laundry that needs doing. And I don’t imagine I’ll notice anything missing until at least Friday, tomorrow, when we start thinking about unpacking.

I hope the forecast for a wintry Thursday morning didn’t come to fruition, but if it did, that enough people remembered how to drive safely. Of course, there will be those who don’t change their tires or prepare for the weather conditions that are inevitable at this time of year, making that aforementioned traffic even worse than usual.

Just turn on the radio and enjoy the ride, if you can. The weekend’s just around the bend and I’ll be back with you Monday.

Just a thought… I am going to keep having fun every day I have left, because there is no other way of life. You just have to decide whether you are a Tigger or an Eeyore. [Randy Pausch]

Welcome to a brand new week and, hopefully, a feeling that you’ve had just a bit more sleep. Because, unless you had to work that extra hour yesterday morning, you did! I love this time change. The loss of an hour in the spring used to throw my poor sleep-deprived body for a loop, but the hour in the fall was like a gift.

In our new home province of BC, they’re moving toward getting rid of the time change altogether; I can’t say that I agree with it just from our own personal perspective, but people seem adamant that the clock change needs to stop.

Can’t say that it’ll make that big a difference in our lives, except perhaps for doing some extra math when we’re dealing with people out of our time zone. Oh, and the PVR. We’ll see.

Our time in Ottawa – an incredible second visit this fall – was one I’d like to have recorded to watch again and again. Oh, but we made memories: on Friday we went to a ceramics painting studio so Colin could make a present for his parents for Christmas (which he told them about the minute we got home!) and then Rob, Colin and I laced up our rented shoes for four games of five-pin bowling.

There’s a lot to be said for not over-thinking: this five-year-old wasn’t trying to hit the centre pin, to straighten his wrist or count steps to the foul line. No, he just stood there, oblivious to the buzzing when he was on said line, and rolled the ball down the alley.

As you can see, his instincts were better than our “experience.” We had a blast in the black light. I can’t tell you the last time I bowled – five or ten-pin – but for Rob and Colin, it was a second time together, and it won’t be their last.

We packed up and headed off to black light mini-golf, which was not nearly as much fun (and way too expensive IMHO at about $15 per person for less than an hour), but Colin seemed to enjoy it and that was the main thing. The kid’s got a great hockey shot and when we showed him how to hold a putter, he seemed to catch on to that, too. There’s no doubt he’s got some athletic genes there.

And so it was that on Saturday we thought we’d put him on skates for the first time. Our hopes were dashed when we found out that the arena near Vanier that had indoor family skating didn’t rent skates. Darn! Plus, since it was spur-of-the-moment, we didn’t have his helmet, which we’d also have had to rent. Perhaps in the spring, or when next we visit we’ll get him out on the ice. We can’t do it all in one weekend, right?

We sure tried, though. We were stocking up on memories and making sure we have plenty to hold us through the next several months. How lucky we are to have FaceTime with this little boy and his beautiful family every weekend.

Jane is five weeks old now and doing well, gaining weight, sleeping like a champ and delighting her big brother, who loves to lean over her bassinet or a parent’s shoulder and say, in a sweet musical voice, “Whatcha doin’, sweet peeeea?” It’s adorable.

He sings Raffi’s “Baby Beluga” to her when she’s fussing; he talks about her when he’s not at home. A beautiful relationship has begun and we’re so grateful that Colin has a sibling, one whom they can dress in matching PJs for occasions like Halloween!

It was a rainy and windy night in Ottawa on October 31st. but we all delighted in taking turns walking Colin (dressed as Woody from Toy Story) up to every door for about an hour. Earlier that evening, his whole family got in the spirit of the night – and the movie – as Phil dressed up as Buzz Lightyear, Brooke donned her Jessie outfit, and even little Jane was in a Mr. Potato Head onesie.

I can’t say Rob and I ever went to those lengths at Halloween, but it sure was fun. And to see Colin’s face when his dad and mom showed up as Toy Story characters? Priceless!

Yes, we went to the Imagine Cinema again to see Toy Story 4 – a more emotional experience this time, as Rob and I were on fewer pins and needles wondering how Colin would behave in a movie – and then gave him the DVD, asking that he think of us when he watches it. It’s a lot to ask of a child, but we can hope.

Hope will be the theme as I deliver my “Reclaiming Joy” keynote twice tomorrow: a shorter version for the Excellence Canada 35th annual gathering (for which I’m also emcee) at the Carlu during the day, and again tomorrow night at a benefit for Heart House Hospice.

That will be held at the Mississauga Convention Centre and if you or anyone you know is looking for a bit of inspiration and a lot of real talk about love, grief and hope, I’d urge you to please consider supporting an amazing organization. Details are here if you’re interested.

Well, my friend, that’s it from here today. If you’re joining us next October for our Rhine cruise, there’s a good chance you’re coming to a meet ‘n’ greet with Cooper and me tonight, so I’ll see you then.

I’ll be writing to you next from our flight home on Wednesday night. Have a gentle week, stay warm and we’ll be back here on Thursday – getting ready to unwind for the winter and just sharing some stories. As friends do.

Just a thought… Memories warm you up from the inside. [Haruki Murakami]

Ah, Halloween: it brings us so many great recollections, but I remember most clearly (perhaps with a shudder) the year we almost didn’t have one!

We were living in England on a military base and the holiday just wasn’t a thing there; we heard we would have to wait a few days for fireworks on Guy Fawkes Day, which sounded intriguing in its way, but was missing one very important five-letter word: CANDY. (Or sweets, as they were called there.)

So, what did we long-faced Canucks and Yanks do? Thankfully, parents came to the rescue: Canadian and American kids gathered for a daytime party at the local officers’ mess, where we had candy, games and fun. So often it’s the years things kind of went sideways that stand out.

I remember walking Lauren through the leafy, rain-soaked streets of Leaside as she excitedly gathered her bounty, all the while mumbling under my breath at the news/weather guy who had sworn up and down that it wasn’t going to rain! No sirree!

(Part of my chagrin was because, of course, we’d taken his word for it – he was also our weather guy – and promised parents the same and knew they were likely muttering our names under their breath, too.)

Here in Southern Ontario on the cusp of October and November, weather always seems to play a role in Halloween memories. No matter what creative costume idea we conjured up, it was going to have the words “in a parka” added to the description.

One year I decorated a box and cut head and arm holes. What did it end up being? A Die “in a parka.” (That was the year I borrowed one of my mom’s “good” pillow cases and, because it got wet in the rain, it ended up with a big black and blue stain from a jawbreaker.)

Another year when we were posted in Ottawa, I really leaned into the weather: I donned an actual Inuit parka and handmade mukluks dad had brought home from his time in the Arctic and was the warmest kid on Heron Road.

Continuing the tradition, Lauren dressed up as a bunny “in a parka,” a kitty cat “in a parka”…well, you get it. Anyone care for Mary Poppins (umbrella and all) “in a parka” tonight? ‘Cause it looks as though, where we are, we’re going to need it.

Oh, who really cares? Sure it’s great to see creativity at your doorstep, but for a child, what it all comes down to in the end is the haul.

Tonight we’ll trot along behind, trying to keep up with Toy Story‘s Woody (Colin), his baby sister and mom and dad, who will all be in costume too. Despite a heavy rainfall warning promising 30 to 50 mm of the wet (but thankfully not white) stuff between yesterday and tomorrow, we’re all taking our favourite little guy out trick-or-treating in an Ottawa suburb and Rob and I have promised to stay out longer with him if his parents and four-week-old sister decide to call it quits after a block or two.

As Rob put it, did any kid ever look out the window and say, “Nope – too wet to go out and get free candy.” Um…probably not. Rain, sleet or snow, why wouldn’t we go?

How often are we going to be given an opportunity like this? A child’s years are fast and fleeting; the chances of us timing a visit to coincide with this big night again are fairly slim. So we’re jumping on this like a kid on a full-sized candy bar. Whoo hoo!

We’ll be here in the National Capital area just having fun with this little family for the next few days, and then this Sunday spending a few hours talking with a small group gathering at Bereaved Families of Ontario in Oshawa.

For a bigger event, Tuesday night we’re welcoming you to come hear my ED Talk (as in Erin Davis LOL) called “Reclaiming Joy.” Details for that are here, and it’s for a wonderful cause.

I’ll remind you Monday, if that’s all right – and in the meantime, you have a terrific Halloween. I hope there are memories made or recalled…and that the first weekend of November is indeed a gentle one. Got your poppy yet?

Just a thought… Life is more meaningful when our goal is fulfillment rather than gratification. [Author unknown]

I can’t even express to you how full, how VERY full, Rob’s and my hearts are today. (See? They’re so full I’ve used that word three times in the first two sentences!)

To think of everything traumatic that has happened in the past four-and-a-half years – from losing Lauren, to saying good-bye to my favourite radio partner, then leaving almost every person we knew and loved in Ontario and starting a new life outside of my beloved medium of radio – I am awestruck at just how much meaning and fulfillment have come our way. And at no time have they been more evident than in the past five days.

I hadn’t planned to write a book; on the day that I said good-bye to our radio audience at Casa Loma, had that wonderful HarperCollins exec not been in the audience of CityLine, and had she not written and suggested it, I most certainly wouldn’t have laid out our lives for a litany of publishers to reject.

But as I stood before a full ballroom yesterday at the Marriott in Muskoka, for just a moment there was a beam of light that shone down on me from above and told me I was where I was meant to be at that moment. Just as a medium we met up with after Lauren died told us she was saying, “Mom, it’s not about you anymore – it’s about them.”

It’s about them. The mothers who cried in my arms on Thursday night in Arthur, Ontario after my keynote address “Reclaiming Joy.” It was a fundraiser for #GetintouchforHutch – started by a bereaved mom whose son died by suicide – and so far these good people have raised $300,000 (in a decade) to help others who suffer, and hopefully to help prevent more deaths by suicide by getting people to talk about mental health.

It’s about the families helped by The Lighthouse for Grieving Children in Oakville at a sold-out event for 300 on Wednesday night, simply by sharing the stories of survival of widows Lisa Lisson, CEO of FedEx Canada, and Melissa Gaston who, along with her children, has been helped by Lighthouse (where she met a fellow grieving parent, soon to become her husband). Such an incredible night! That’s Lisa on the left, then Melissa, and interviewer Saphia Khambalia of The Weather Network to my left. 

It’s about the patients at Markham Stouffville Hospital who came out for a mental health day Thursday and with whom I could safely share my story of depression, addiction and grief – but with hope.

It’s about the hundreds of Rotary International members (as Rob and I are) on Saturday in Muskoka who listened to the story of incredible strength, resilience and determination of Amanda Lindhout, who wrote the New York Times bestseller about her year-and-a-half as a hostage in Somalia ten years ago. (Her talk was as gripping and touching as the book, I promise you.)

And who then heard my presentation on Sunday.

And finally, it IS about us: Rob and me.

I don’t tell you about these events to shine a light on what we’ve done, but to show you just how much this whole evolution from bereaved to blessed has meant to us. To be able to take what happened with the loss of our sweet Lauren, and maybe – just maybe – to become able to offer others a little hope has been the second-greatest gift she has given us.

The first, of course, is Colin. And this week we’re on our way to Ottawa again to spend a glorious few days with our beloved boy and his beautiful baby sister and parents.

We count our blessings every day and choose to see the light instead of the darkness. And we haven’t done any of this, not one bit, alone.

Thank you for helping us to get to where we are today, to this place of hope and deepest fulfillment. I would give my life not to have experienced what brought us here, but since this is where we are, we are choosing to take in the view and be thankful.

Talk to you here on Thursday.

Just a thought… I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become. [Carl Gustav Jung]

Well hello again, Ontario! Seems as if we were just here – it’s like they could almost have left our rental car running while we hopped home and then returned.

I’m loving this fall weather, although the winds we experienced yesterday in Halton region are certain to have taken their toll on the leaves we’ll see as we head to Markham for a speech at noon and then on to Arthur for another gathering tonight.

(See the What’s Up section here for more information if you think you can join us and I’ll post pics on my public Facebook page as well as Twitter @erindavis and Instagram @erindawndavis if you care to check in.)

I realize that for the last few weeks here, this journal seems to have been me filling you in on one event after another, and if that’s your impression, I do apologize. This was always a place just to share what’s going on behind the scenes and in our lives and, of course, the fact that Rob and I are taking such a vastly different path than we expected has changed the trajectory of my writings.

Our relationship – yours and mine – never was and is never going to be about promotion or selling. It’s not that anyone has complained but I realize if people don’t want to click here and share some time a few days a week, they just won’t. Goodness knows there’s a lot to fill your day and attract your eyes and I don’t take for granted one minute that you spend here with me.

I can promise you this: in just less than two weeks, it all changes. We settle in for a gentle winter of enjoying each other’s company and just taking every day as it comes, instead of laying out clothes, planning speeches and making sure I get to the right place at the right time.

It just happens to be a bit of a tsunami of wonderful activity right now and I am truly grateful for every single bit of it.

So how are we doing, Rob and I? Great. A little sleep-deprived, thanks to a three-hour time difference and getting to bed yesterday at 3 am here, but glad that there’s no alcohol involved to mess up the body clocks further.

I’ll tell you that flying and not drinking is probably the hardest thing for me: I used to feel that there were no rules in the sky (don’t ask me why; perhaps the vacation mode that I so often associated travel with) and couple that with a feeling of melancholy that I’ve always gotten when I’m up there in a tin tube hurtling through the blue – don’t ask me why – it just seems like a recipe to order that Caesar or white wine.

When you add to that the stress of our new calling – trying to massage my message and accompanying slides for each group, always searching for the right words and new ways to convey them – the hours in the sky are a perfect place for temptation. Luckily, I’m able to keep my eye on the prize (sobriety) and just not drink. I wish it was as easy as it sounds – and to someone who has an “off” switch, I’m sure it does – but nothing worthwhile is easy, is it?

I talk about treatment and addiction in my speech, but I don’t dwell on it a lot. It falls under the “medicate if you need to, but don’t self-medicate” part of things we’ve learned. Everywhere you turn, every TV show you watch, every ad, every everything involves booze. You really don’t notice it until it’s a challenge, just as delicious dishes are everywhere when you’re trying to diet or you’re fasting, right?

I find myself noticing the smell of alcohol on people a lot more now, too. Like the guy near us on the small plane from Victoria to Vancouver Tuesday. I think people really have no idea how it oozes from their pores….

I just tell myself they must have used hand sanitizer. I remember Michelle Butterly coming into the studio one morning at CHFI and I could swear she smelled like vodka. But there was hand-sani right outside studio door. We had a good laugh about that!

Anyway, that’s where I am. Keeping up with my counselling, getting good advice from people who’ve been there, done that and don’t anymore, and being as open as I can about struggling.

It’s all about vulnerability: no one is meant to get through this alone. We don’t have to. Like grief, addiction is so isolating. It’s simply amazing – and freeing – when you are blessed to find others who share your path so you don’t ever have to walk it alone.

Have a lovely weekend. I’ll be in Rosseau for a Rotary International gathering and then off for a few days of bliss with a dear friend. I’ll talk to you here on Monday and thank you for coming by. I promise you it’ll all get back to “normal” (whatever the heck that is) soon!