Still Letting It Be..............

 I know, I know........it's been a while. What can I say?  There's been a pandemic, there's been laziness, there's been reluctance to share, there's been changes and there's been trying to figure out exactly what I want out of life.  Well, maybe not figuring it out as much as accepting what I already knew in my heart.

Coming back to reality from my year in France was challenging in a few ways.  Anyone (all 3 of you!) who have read my blog know what that year meant to me.  It was my long awaited, long planned for and long dreamed of gift to myself.  I am a different person in Paris and I truly love who that person is.  She's free to be herself, open to new ideas and adventures.  She realized during that year that it's ok to love yourself, to do things that make you happy.  Life is so, so short.  We spend so much of it taking care of others, doing what we are expected to by family, friends and society.  Fitting in. Not taking too much space.  Not putting ourself first.  

My year in France made me stronger.  It allowed me to figure out exactly who I was and what I want.  It was a year of exuberance, discovery, extreme sadness, wonder, laughter, tears, deep friendships and so much more.  It was my year :)

So when I came back, there was a sense of ~ what's next?  I'm not the same person I was when I left.  How do I reconcile that and how do I move forward?

I went back to the job I love and which allowed me to take my dream year off. I came back to my kids and grandkids, my family and friends who love me unconditionally and who encouraged me to make my dream a reality. Life went on.

I met someone in 2019.  We hit it off very quickly.  It looked like we had a lot in common.  We both loved to travel. We enjoyed good food and wine, shared a love of music, and we each had a full life.  We complimented each other.  We started to make plans for the future ~ retirement, marriage, travel.  It was a whirlwind and I went along for the ride.  I surprised myself by being that open to that much change in such a short time.  I told myself it came from my time in Paris ~ my comfort with myself, with who I was. I hadn't been looking for a serious relationship because I had a very full life and I was very content.  

Things were very good for a while.  But there's a reason you really need to know someone before you make serious plans with them. It takes time to really know another human being ~ to know who they are ~ their past, their real personality, their hopes and dreams, their disappointments, their fears, what makes them happy, what can make them angry.  There is so much to each of us ~ a lifetime that goes into making us who we are.

This person was very kind to me.  I know he loved me. I'm not going to rehash our relationship in a blog. But over time, I realized he just wasn't the person for me.  We are fundamentally very different people who look at life in very different ways.  There's no right or wrong, no good or bad.  Just different.  So I made the very hard decision to let him go.  Anyone who knows me knows I never want to hurt anyone.  I value kindness over almost anything else, and I go out of my way to treat everyone with that same kindness.  It took me a long time to work up the courage to say what was in my heart and how I felt in my gut.  It would have been very easy to stay, but it would have been wrong.  He deserves someone who loves him in the way he wants to be loved.  That person is not me.  

So I didn't blog during this time.  There was just something inside me that kept me from doing it.  In the end, I think it's because I couldn't really be as honest as I wanted to about things because I know he would be reading it.  So I would have had to edit myself.  Anyone who's read my posts knows that whatever else I am when I write, I am open and honest and I pull no punches.  My posts are real and they are raw and I go on and on (like I'm doing right now ;) ). I never censor what I write because in the end, it's always been a journal to myself and for myself.  But for whatever reason, I didn't blog during what should have been (at least the first 6-9 months of the relationship) a very happy and exciting time in my life.  That should have told me something.

So I am once again a single woman.  A very happily single woman.  It's been about six months since I broke off our engagement. I have no regrets beyond hurting a nice human being.  I just had to listen to what my heart was telling me.  I know myself well by now and I knew this was just not the life I wanted.  It would have been very nice, very comfortable.  But not what I want at this point in my life.  I like my alone time.  I like being able to make plans at the spur of the moment.  I like being free. My life is so very full with wonderful family and friends.  

I guess I had to struggle between what I knew was right for me and what society tells us we should want.  When we got engaged, so many people told me how wonderful it was that I would "finally" be happy again.  As if being a couple is the only way to be happy! So many things make me happy ~ my kids and my grandkids. My family.  My friends.  My health.  Having a wonderful job that allows me to help people and allows me a great work/life balance.  Paris makes me happy. Intelligent conversations make me happy.  Laughing with a good friend until I pee my pants make me happy.  Kindness makes me happy. 

So here I am again!  You may be wondering what prompted this long, never ending diatribe to myself.  Well, yesterday I had one of those days that reminded me that I'm right where I should be at this point in my life.  Ontario finally reopened after a very long and dreary Covid lockdown.  I made a spur of the moment decision to go to Ottawa to visit our National Gallery.  There's a Rembrandt exhibition on currently.  As I wandered around the architecturelly stunning museum, looking at 400 year old masterpieces by one of the great art masters of the world, I felt like I was exactly in the right place at the right time.  

It was a warm Saturday afternoon when I left the museum after a few hours of filling my senses with great art (oh art, how've I've missed you during Covid!).  I wandered the Byward Market area of Ottawa until I found somewhere for an early dinner.  I took my time, enjoying some wine, the music in the background, and the murmur of people enjoying themselves. I felt happy and content to just be in the moment. 

I ended my day by getting a tattoo to honour someone very special to me who passed away last year. I've been thinking about doing this for a little while, but yesterday seemed to be the perfect time.  I asked my sweet waitperson if she knew of any reputable tattoo places nearby and she gave me a few recommendations, encouraging me to just go and do it!  So I did :). Slainte is the Gaellic word for cheers.  My friend was Scottish and we often toasted each other like that.  He's a person who changed my life in many ways.  He wasn't perfect, because none of us are.  But he will always be in my heart for teaching me to live life one day at a time, to never stop learning, never stop dreaming and that it is ok to make myself happy.  Slainte, my darling Campbell.

As I drove home last night, I felt more at peace than I have in a while. The long nightmare of Covid is beginning to lift.  I'm returning to my beloved Paris for 3 months in the fall.  I plan to just be ~ take long walks soaking in the city I have long ago given my heart to.  Return to the museums and art I've grown to love over the years.  Catch up with the sweet friends who have always been there for me, through heartbreak and tragedy. Drink wine at cafes, laughing and talking about life.  This is my Paris and I can't wait to make it mine again for that time.

I drove and played my old classic rock music very loudly, singing along. I was happy.  Content.  Excited about the future.  I'm grateful and humbled by the love and support of the people in my life.  My daughter Danielle.  My son Derek.  My two sweet grandsons, Sebastian and Charlie.  And my darling Abby, always in my heart.  To so many who have been with me every step of the way. Life is good. :)

I'll continue to Let It Be and we will see what happens next! 

My son

 People are always telling me I have to tell my story.  And I will, when the time is right.  But everyone has a story.  Everyone has a past, everyone has something they have overcome, everyone has dreams.

My son has a story. It is a story of such courage, and perseverance, and love that it brings me to my knees whenever I think of it.

Anyone who had read my blog knows that Derek's beautiful daughter, Abby, passed away from cancer on September 23, 2018 at the very tender age of 3.  She fought for almost two years.  She was already stage 4, high risk when she was diagnosed at 17 months with neuroblastoma, a childhood cancer.  Her doctors prescribed a very aggressive course of treatment which included chemotherapy, surgery, a stem cell transplant from her own cells, and immunotherapy.  This little girl fought for 22 months.  She withstood treatment that would bring grown men to their knees.  She did it while laughing, while watching Barney on her iPad and while constantly holding on to her WhoWho though every poke and prod, every horrible procedure that no little body should ever have to withstand.  

Derek was with her every step of the way.  He slept by her bedside for almost 2 years, held her through her pain and tears and cries. He gave up his life so he could be her comfort and her strength.  He put up with so much indignity and injustice over that time so he could just be there for his little girl.  I can't go into detail because so much of it is privileged information and involves other people and also because my son is fiercely private.  But Derek had to withstand so much more on top of his daughter fighting cancer. So much more that people would be flabbergasted by what happened to him.  

And he never complained.  He never felt sorry for himself.  His only worry was always Abby. Being by her side.  Kissing her tears and making her laugh and be happy.  That is who this man is.  His pain and anguish just weren't important compared to Abby.  She was just everything for him.  She still is.  

Derek turned 34 today. I just needed to write these thoughts down, get them out of my head.  Abby has been gone for almost 2 and a half years.  Not a day goes by that I don't think about her.  But I know my pain is nothing compared to Derek's.  I know she is always on his mind, in his heart and part of his soul.  

My son is my hero.  He embodies true love, selflessness, kindness, compassion and empathy.  I hold him in my heart and I hope the future brings him some peace, some happiness and some love.  He deserves all of that and more.  I love you so much, Derek.  I'm so damn proud of the human being that you are. For so many reasons.  

Missing beauty...............

Beauty comes in many forms. There is beauty in art.  There is beauty in feeling joy in your heart.  There is beauty in words. There is beauty in the small details of a door handle and there is beauty in the grandness of a sunset. There is beauty in having people who love you and in the people you love. 

Beauty is all around us.  This post was generated by photos of Paris on my TV as I sat reading a book about the beauty that managed to be found in a small German town in Nazi Germany.  The photos made my heart ache tonight.  They tore me in two, between the want, the overwhelming need to be in the place where I am more me than anywhere else, and between knowing how much love I have here, from my kids and my grandkids and my family.  I feel torn between those two worlds and I have no idea how to reconcile wanting them both. 

So yes, I am missing the beauty of Paris.  Of taking my long walks and revelling in the wonders to be discovered at every step, at every street, at every museum, in every park, in every door, every window, every stunning blue sky at dusk and searing sunset over the Seine.  I'm missing the beauty of just sitting and feeling pure joy, of trying to just absorb it all so I won't forget those fleeting moments that calmed my mind and fed my soul. 

But as I thought about how to write these words and how to express what I was missing, I realized I was missing another kind of beauty.............the beauty of the peace that comes from knowing that those you love are ok.  That they are happy and carefree and have life to look forward to.

That beauty was stolen from me 6 months ago when Abby passed away. It was stolen from my son who lost his only child after watching her suffer for 22 unbearably long months.  It was stolen from my daughter and my grandsons who lost their niece and their cousin.  None of us will ever again have the beauty of that peace that comes from not knowing endless grief. Yes, the grief will lessen its hold over time, but it will never completely go away.  I know there will not be another day for the rest of my life that I won't think about Abby, about what she went through, about how my son sacrificed everything to be by her side, about his bottomless pain that I am powerless to take away.  Life has been irrevocably changed for all of us and the beauty of taking happiness for granted is gone.  

And so, as much as I miss Paris and its beauty, in every shape, way and form, it's nothing compared to how I miss the beauty of life before Abby got sick.  How I miss the beauty of knowing my family is intact, happy and looking forward to the future.  I'll miss that beauty for the rest of my life. 

I know there are no words that can ever make sense of losing a child.  We have to keep going and be there for those we love and who love us.  I know that Abby will live on in our hearts and in our minds and that she touched so many people. She was our beautiful little angel girl.  She taught us how to live life to the fullest, how to smile and laugh and enjoy the small moments in the midst of unimaginable despair.  

So tonight I'll miss her beauty and the beauty of my family's peace but tomorrow I'll try to live my life in a way that honours everything she meant to us.

Miss you so much, our little Abu. 

Let It Be ~ 2019

I've been wanting to write this post since I left Paris on December 24. I wanted to be able to write about my dream year in Paris in witty prose, summing up what the year meant to me and how it changed me and arriving to a neat conclusion.

Except that life isn't like that.  There's no clear cut beginning and end.  My dream didn't begin on January 2 2018 and end December 24 2018.  Life begins when it begins.  And it end, well, it ends when you die of course.  Those are pretty clean parameters. It's what you do with the time in between that defines what your life is, what it becomes, what it stands for.  We all have the choice to write our chapters. The chapters don't have to have a logical sequence either.  The chapters can start and stop whenever you want them to.  They can pause for a while and they can change direction on a dime.  Sometimes you can control those chapters. Sometimes they control you.  But the important thing is to keep trying to write them. To write them in your head.  And to live them, of course.

I was hesitant to write about my time in Paris coming to an end because the beginning of that time was so full of promise.  Of hope.  Of dreams being fulfilled and life having meaning. Of taking my life in my hands and making something of it. People kept telling me this would be a life defining time for me.  Everything would change.

And it did while I was there.  For the first time in my life, I was truly me.  I only had myself to take care of, to love, to make happy.  I wasn't responsible for anyone else. The freedom was astounding.  After a lifetime of making sure everyone else was ok, taken care of, catered to, I was free to do whatever it is I wanted to do.  Some days it was sitting with good friends, drinking wine and talking about our world and laughing and maybe shedding a tear.  Some days, it was immersing myself in the art that I have come to love, going to museums to revisit old favourites or discovering new wonders. Some days, I just wandered by myself for hours, discovering this Paris that I love, sitting in one of the many beautiful parks scattered all over the city, coming across little winding streets or tiny bookshops full of treasures from floor to ceiling, revelling in the diversity of the people who live here, drinking in their different accents, languages, colourful clothing.

I am a different person when I am in Paris.  I like that person.  She is carefree, happy, willing to take risks, not scared to open herself up to new people, new experiences.  She doesn't want everything wrapped up in a neat little box ~ she's ok with life being messy, raw, chaotic, and carefree.  She doesn't need schedules, must dos, timetables, lists.  She can just be. And what a glorious feeling it is to just be.

I learned to love myself.  To know that it's ok to take care of me, to do what makes me happy, without guilt.  To know that I am capable of joy, laughter, contentment, in my own company.  To know that the only person responsible for me is me! I love my alone time. I loved taking my walks, letting them lead me where they will, feeling the sun on my face or spying a little window or door and feeling pure joy come over me, sometimes to the point of tears.

I hate that society tells us that we can only be happy when we have "the one" ~ when we are a couple, doing things together, sharing everything.  I'm certainly open to that.  But I think you can only truly love someone else when you love yourself.  In the end, I'm the only one capable of making myself happy.  I can't rely on anyone else do to that for me.  I learned to do that in Paris. I learned to love myself and do what feels right for me.  If I meet someone at some point, that's wonderful.  But if I don't, I know I will still be happy, I will still live the life I want to life, I will still have my family and friends, and most of all, I will still have me.

Paris also made me strong.  Strong enough to deal with devastation and tragedy.  Strong enough to be there for my son and Abby.  Strong enough to live through what no parent or grandparent should ever have to live through.  I know that my time in Paris enabled me to face what was coming and enabled me to live through what happened.  There are moments that will stay etched in my mind forever, some beautiful, some horrific, some peaceful and some unbearably sad.  The time I spent in Paris before coming back to Canada in June and in September to be with Derek and Abby gave me the strength and courage to be there for them. I always had the love. Some moments define who you are and who you will be.  Abby's cancer did that for me.  Of course, it also defined who my son is, the man he will be, the father he was.

Life is short.  We need to live it.  Live it in the way that you want to.  You can do that in different ways at different times in your life.  There's no right or wrong way to live life.  You just do it in the way that feels right at the time.  You do it in the way that makes you happy in that moment. I knew that I had to go live in Paris at some point in my life and I made that happen.  I knew that if I didn't chase my dream and make it come true, I would have regrets the rest of my life.  I was extremely lucky to have the means and the opportunity to make it happen.  I never take that for granted.  I also know that it wouldn't have been the same year if I didn't have so many people in Paris and around this world who love me and support me.

I realize I'm repeating many themes I've discussed this year.  I'm rambling. I've been ruminating about this post for a few months.  Even before I left Paris.  I put pressure on myself to come up with a perfect wrap up, a profound end to an amazing year.  Except there are no perfect endings.  Life keeps moving forward and my time in Paris was just a moment in that life.  I want to share something I wrote down in November as I was thinking about my year coming to an end but that I didn't share for whatever reason:

"I worry that I love my own company too much.  I worry that I will never let anyone in again in fear of being hurt.  I don't know if I can stand the hurt again.  I'm so scared of leaving Paris. My soul just belongs here.  I can do everything and nothing here and be equally happy.  I can breathe.  I can be me.  I can be.

Who am I really? What do I want in this short life we are given? The sun is shining.  I'm in the Jardin de Luxembourg enjoying a warm November afternoon.  Reading.  Thinking. Wondering. Worrying. Grieving. Loving.  Just being.

How can I leave Paris?  I am me here.  The truest me I have ever been.  A me that answers to no one. Except me.  No guilt.  No pressure.  No need to to anything.  Just be.  And love.  And see the beauty all around me.  Just feel it.  I am so happy here.  So content.

I love Danielle and Derek and Charlie and Seb and Abby.  With all my heart.  I don't know why they aren't enough to hold me down.  I want to fly.  I want to soar.  I can do that here.  Doing everything and doing nothing.  It's as if my heart can leave my chest and glide, free and open and genuine and honest and happier than I have ever been in these 58 years.

58.  That is quite a number. I'm considered an old woman in North America.  Invisible.  Worn.  Done. Sexless.  But not here.  Here I am a woman.  Ageless. Fearless. Able to do and dream whatever I want to do and dream.  And I have many dreams left.  Dreams of living.  And loving.  And being loved.  Of learning. Seeing.  Being. Art. Music. Literature. Wine. Friends. Strolling.  Standing still.  Feeling the sun on my face.  Or the wind in my hair.  Or the rain on my cheeks.  Rain. Or tears.  Happy or sad.  Doesn't matter.  It means I'm alive.  I'm living my live the way I want to.  I'm me."

Reading these words just now have brought me to tears.  Tears of joy and sorrow ~ joy from remembering where I was when I wrote this and sorrow that I'm not there anymore, sorrow for what that woman was feeling as she wrote about the end of her year in Paris.

Life means moving forward.  Nothing lasts forever.  Not relationships. Not friends.  Not your health.  Your job. Whatever you take for granted.  It all ends at some point.  We can't control that.  But we can control how we react to it.  We have to resolve to move forward, no matter what life throws at us. It's really all we can do in this messy, ever changing time we are given.

I read a book recently and then watched the movie it was based on last night ~ it's called the Wife and the movie starred Glen Close.  The story made me so angry ~ angry enough to throw the book down at some point and cry.  Angry enough to have to pause the movie several times because I knew what was coming and didn't want to watch it.  But I kept reading.  And I kept watching.  Not to give anything way for anyone who hasn't read the book or seen the movie, but it involves a deception and a self sacrifice of huge proportions.  It showed what happens when we give up who we are for someone else.  It shows what happens in our world where women aren't expected to be much more than be the wife, the mother, the one who makes it all better at the expense of their own life, their own ambitions,  their own happiness.  I related so strongly to both the words and the images for so many reasons.  I'm an open book and you all know my life, so I won't rehash everything here.  Suffice it to say that it's hard to not think about what life could have been like if I had been braver, if I had been stronger.  If I had believed in my abilities more.  If I had realized that I could take care of myself, could make a new life for myself.  Because I did that.  I'm still doing that.  Nothing is ever impossible.  We must dream it.  We must dare it.  And we must live it.

When I started this blog, I thought it would be a travelogue of my time in Paris.  What I did.  Where I went.  What I ate, drank, who I spent time with.  And there was some of that.  But it's evolved into so much more.  It's evolved into finding my voice, finding myself.  I guess if there's one message I hope anyone who muddles through this incoherent mess comes away with, is this ~ it's never too late.  It's never impossible.  You can always take the next step. You can always change your life.  Make it what you always wanted it to be.  You can do it if you want to.

So now I have to figure out what comes next ~ because it's still up to me to be the architect of my life.  My year in Paris opened up my eyes to what I want, to who I am and to what's important to me. Now I just have to Let It Be..................

Pain and Healing

Our dearest, sweetest, bravest Abby passed peacefully on September 23.  She is at peace now and is no longer suffering.

Abby's life may have been short but she brought so much meaning to all who knew her.  She brought love.  She brought courage.  She brought hope.  She brought unbelievable strength.  She showed us how to live each day to the fullest, no matter the obstacle.  She was our beautiful girl, happy and giggly regardless of what she was going through.  Her WhoWho was her constant companion and will be with her forever.  Barney gave her hours and hours of pleasure and will continue to do so.  She will be finally able to do the Baby Bop dance, with a smile on her face.

It's been three weeks since she passed and I think of her all the time.  Sometimes those thoughts bring a smile to my face and sometimes they bring a pang to my heart.  Sometimes both at the same time.  Losing someone you love is always devastating.  Losing someone so young, so innocent, who never really had a fair chance at life, is indescribable. Unfathomable. It's a parent, and grandparent's worse nightmare.  It's what we all silently, selfishly hope will never happen to us, to our family.  It's not the natural order of things for a parent to bury their child. I know I will spend my lifetime thinking of what if, of all the things Abby will miss, of all the joy we will miss by not having her in our life.

If my pain is great, I know my son's is bottomless.  Abby has been his life for over three years.  He has been by her side every step of the way, every moment of the day and night, since she was diagnosed in November 2016.  He has given up everything to be by his little girl's side, fighting for her and alongside her.  No one should ever have to see and experience what he has seen and experienced in the last 22 months.  No one.  Yet he always said the same thing whenever someone mentioned that he hadn't slept in a real bed for months on end, ate by her crib for almost two years, spent weeks and months on end in a room in a children's hospital ~ he always simply said, "She's worth it".

A grandparent's grief is twofold ~ I grieve for my darling Abby, for this little life taken away way too soon, and I grieve for my son, for the pain I can't take away, for the sorrow I know he will feel for the rest of his life and which I am powerless to prevent.  I will be there for him in any way he needs me to be and I will listen to him and hug him and love him and let him cry and vent and do whatever he needs to move forward.  But I can't lessen his pain and that puts a hole in my heart.

I can only hope that with time and love and support from his family and friends, he can slowly rebuild his life.  I know whatever direction he chooses to move toward, he will make Abby proud of him.  He will live a life worthy of his amazing daughter.  I know this because I know him.  I know what kind of man he is.  I'm so very proud to be his mom, proud of the man and father he has become. I love him with all my heart.

I'm so grateful to so many people who have been there for me during this time.  My daughter Danielle, who made sure I didn't go through this alone, who was by my side and let me cry on her shoulder, who let me stay at her place for two weeks after Abby passed so Derek could have privacy and space in my apartment. Having Charlie wake me up with a sweet little kiss every morning, chatting with Sebastian and realizing how grown up and mature he is, getting hugs and love from these two precious boys every day ~ all of it helped me make it though those anguished first days after Abby passed.  It reminded me that life goes on, that I still have so much in my life to cherish and love and look forward to.

My brother Michel who called me almost every day to make sure I was ok, who was there if I wanted to talk, to cry,  to vent.  My sister Brigitte who spent my first week back in Paris with me, who let me show her my Paris, who made what could have been a very sad time, happy and fun. Michael and Roniece who checked in on me daily via Messenger, to see how I was, to wish me courage, to ask about Derek.  So many friends at home and around the world who sent flowers, cards, who made donations to the hospice where Abby spent her last weeks, who sent food and comfort, who messaged me to tell me how this little child touched their lives, how they had followed her long journey and were grieving along with Derek and me.

I have said many times how blessed I am to have so many people in my life who love me and support me.  I was reminded of this over and over again in the last few weeks.  People are so kind and generous and good.  We need to remember this when life gets overwhelming, when the news about the world gets too depressing. There is good out there. We need to be open to it and let it into our hearts.  And we need to give it back whenever we can.  That is what will make this world a joyous place.

I know Paris will help heal me.  She has before and she will do it again. I will finish out my year in Paris, this gift that I gave myself, my long awaited dream, with a heavier heart than I began it.  But if Abby's journey taught me anything, it is that life is precious.  Life is short and it's the only one we have. So I will try to live mine in a way that honours her, that is worthy of who she was and what she meant to so many people. I will make her proud of her grandma.  I will Let It Be..................