After reading The God Who Drowns I checked out some of the comments that were made by Waitterant’s readers.  There were many people who responded by saying “Thank you. This is exactly how I feel sometimes.” or “I’m so glad there are others out there who feel the same way.”  His feelings really resonated with a lot of people.  But there were also many comments from “Christians” who had such loving comments as:

What a sad and hopeless post. I will pray to my omnipotent God that He will restore your faith before it is too late and you stand before Him and realize your folly.

There were many more posts spouting more Christian theology or reasons why the hurricane happened and reminding us that we cannot know God’s purpose in allowing disasters.  No matter how well intentioned, these posts came across as legalistic and insensitive.  The people who made these comments were not LISTENING to Waiterrant or the many others who shared his feelings.  Whether or not his theology i “correct” (and I hate to use that term because I think it is an infinitely hard thing to define and I don’t believe that correct theology is quite as important, in most cases, as we make it out to be), he has the right to share it and there is nothing sinful about expressing your feelings.  Why do Christians feel the need to correct people all the time?  What about just listening for once?  Why can’t we even admit to feeling the same way at times?  Doubt is not a sin, no matter how you read the Bible.  When people make rude comments like this I want to completely disassociate myself from that kind of “Christianity”.

I really like this singer called Nichole Nordeman. She is a Christian but not in the cheesy “My life is always super and happy because of Jesus” way.  What most stirs my heart in her music is the lyrics.  They are full
of poetry and they ask a lot of the hard questions.  A couple lines that have always struck me are these:

I admit that in my darkest hours I’ve asked what if,
What if we created some kind of man made faith like this,
Out of good intention or emotional invention,
and after life is through there will be no You.
Cause they want proof of all these miracles I claim,
Cause only fools believe that men can walk on waves.

I think that is a beautiful passage.  Why are we so often afraid of doubt?  If God is as big as we say He is, then can’t He withstand our doubt?  My struggle with belief will not cause Him to disappear in a puff of smoke.  I like that this singer wrestles with doubt and doesn’t necessarily come to a really concrete answer except that she has a desire to know God.  She is comfortable with a little bit of gray in her life.  I
want to strive to be more like this. 

Here is one other passage that expresses how I feel much of the time.

It’s well past midnight 
And I’m awake with questions that won’t
Wait for daylight
Separating fact from my imaginary fiction

On this shelf of my conviction
I need to find a place
Where You and I come face to face
Thomas needed
Proof that You had really risen
Undefeated
When he placed his fingers
Where the nails once broke Your skin
Did his faith finally begin?
I’ve lied if I’ve denied
The common ground I’ve shared with him

Nicodemus
Could not understand how You could
Truly free us
He struggled with the image
Of a grown man born again
We might have been good friends
Cuz sometimes I still question, too
How easily we come to You

But I, I really want to know You
I want to make each day
A different way that I can show You how
I really want to love You
Be patient with my doubt
I’m just tryin’ to figure out Your will
And I really want to know You still

May we cease to hide from our doubt.  We learn much about ourselves by walking down
that path and we may come out the other side with a better understanding of our
fellow human beings, and maybe even of God.

spirituality | No Comments »

I regularly read a blog called Waiterrant.  I appreciate this writer’s sense of humor and his honesty.  A while back he wrote an entry about Hurricane Katrina and all those who were not saved and died gruesome deaths.  He was struggling with the question of suffering and why these terrible things happen and why, if
there is a God, doesn’t he do something about it?  Waiterrant attended a Lutheran seminary at an earlier time in his life but quit at some point and his current feeling seems to be that there is no God out there.  As
he wrote about his distress over this situation and the common desire of people for an omnipotent being who can save us from this mess he described his escape into a local church to spend a few moments in contemplation.  I really appreciated his expression of anger and frustration and the many questions that arise out of such a tragedy.  Here is part of his blog entry entitled The God Who Drowns:

Suddenly the door to the church noisily swings open. I look up. An old woman shuffles in and laboriously makes her way up the central aisle. She smiles as she passes me. I smile back. This old lady’s like a hundred and two. Her head’s drooping below her shoulders, her womanly form obliterated by age and gravity. I watch her slow progress as she marches to the front of the church. I shake my head. To be that old, that frail, that weak. Then I remember something I read in seminary long ago…

“God is weak and powerless in the world, and that is exactly the way, the only way, in which he
can be with us and help us.”

The guy who said that was a Lutheran pastor named Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was executed by the Nazi’s
for trying to assassinate Hitler. This man knew Evil up close and personal. But he still cherished his faith in God and his belief in the goodness of the world. How did he do that in the face of such monstrosity?

Because he realized that God was not all powerful. He knew God wouldn’t swoop down and save him from his jailers. He understood there’s no division of sacred and profane, any secular and divine. He saw there’s only one reality and he believed that reality was God. And from within that insight he wrestled with the mystery of suffering.

God, Bonhoeffer would say, suffers with us. He shares in our pain. If you’ve ever been to a child’s funeral you know the only thing you can do is cry. God is like that person weeping in the funeral parlor. It was God who was pulverized when the Towers fell, it was God who burned in the Nazi’s ovens, and it was God who drowned in that nursing home in New Orleans.

That’s a hard lesson to learn. Maybe it’s not an answer at all. But the older I get the more this explanation makes sense. It is the only way I can wrap my mind around children dying and old ladies drowning.

But within Bonhoeffer’s words lies a challenge. Since God doesn’t come down in a blizzard of special effects to bail us out – we have to help each other. We recognize the suffering of others and are moved to relieve it. We can’t coop ourselves up in our apartments, churches, and mosques wishing all the bad things will go
away. There’s no room for childish magical thinking. We have to act. The rescuers of 9/11 and the Gulf
Coast understood this without all the fancy theological reflection. Bonhoeffer would say when we help each other that is God helping us. The human heart is moved by weakness not by strength. It is our brokenness, not power, that binds us together. Perhaps our weakness will be our salvation. Maybe that is how God “can be with us and help us.” Who knows? I’m only a waiter.

What an awesome way to look at tragedy and the way God might work in it.  I can identify with this feeling of uncertainty.  Wanting to believe but not really being sure there is something out there to believe in.  I also like the way this puts the responsibility on us to care for each other. It seems too often Christians
spend their time praying for a situation rather than getting their hands dirty.  I’m not saying prayer is useless but more often than not there are practical ways we can be of service to our fellow human beings as well.  I am thankful that there are people out there willing to be honest and vulnerable about their
doubts and struggles.  Christians often don’t make this easy for people who don’t share their faith.  We more often become critical and defensive rather than just listening. 

spirituality | 5 Comments »

I find these quizzes semi-amusing but what I think is funny is how surprised I am when they are wrong about me! This is ridiculous considering they are making conclusions based on a very small number of questions that pigeonhole you into certain categories that may not describe you very well. It shouldn’t surprise me at all. But it does.

This one was pretty accurate:

How You Life Your Life

You seem to be straight forward, but you keep a lot inside. You tend to avoid confrontation and stay away from sticky situations. You tend to have one best friend you hang with, as opposed to many aquaintences. You tend to dream big, but you worry that your dreams aren’t attainable.

This one was quite inaccurate. Parts of it apply but many do not. Aside: I don’t even know what the word “untrammeled” means!

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free.  In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored. You’d like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring. You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please. Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future… one you can grow with. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something precious. You’ll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred. In this moment, you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You’re feeling self centered.

narcissism | 2 Comments »

 

1. I was taller than my grade four teacher.
2. I am still afraid of the dark.
3. Therefore, I HATE sardines and other games played in dark church basements.
4. I don’t read your email forwards, especially when they start with “Important! Don’t delete this email!”
5. I have struggled with depression.
6. I am secretly proud of my long legs even though I complain about buying pants.
7. I love being a stay at home mom and don’t really want to have a career in the workplace.
8. I can be really lazy.
9. I am afraid that I’ll have twins.
10. I hate washing the dishes.
11. I read in the bathtub.
12. In grade nine a friend and I kept a history textbook we were supposed to hand in at the end of the school year and burned the entire thing in a campfire at her grandparent’s cabin. We thought we were bad-asses.
13. I am afraid to fail.
14. I wasn’t afraid of heights until some time in high school.
15. I only started swearing in the last 3 or 4 years.
16. I don’t care that diet pop contains aspartame. I’d rather drink aspartame than all the sugar in regular pop.
17. I sucked my thumb when I was little.
18. I have no living grandparents.
19. I think my baby is cuter than yours.
20. Closed-minded people drive me crazy.
21. High school was not “the best years of my life”.
22. I talk in my sleep.
23. I am basically dispassionate about music.
24. I worry that I’m the person that other people just put up with.
25. I absolutely hate the sound of the wind blowing really hard outside when I’m trying to sleep.
26. When I was a little kid I wasn’t paying attention and rode my bike straight into the back end of someone’s boat which was hooked up to their parked vehicle with a trailer. I broke the taillight but I was too embarrassed to go tell them what happened.
27. I once ran home crying from the corner store because the man at the counter wanted my name, address and phone number. My mom had given me money to rent a video but I didn’t want to give my personal info to a stranger.
28. I like my freckles.
29. I love old, black and white pictures, particularly those of my own ancestors (or my husband’s ancestors).
30. I am afraid I’ll turn out exactly like my parents.
31. I’m also afraid I won’t be anything like my parents.
32. I analyze people and situations too much.
33. I like the smell of gasoline.
34. I hate the taste of all toothpaste, no matter the flavour.
35. The smell of baking bread or rolls reminds me of my Oma.
36. I like most teenagers.
37. I’m very particular about my handwriting.
38. I hate letting people read things I’ve written.
39. I think all kids should take swimming and piano lessons for at least a little while.
40. I’ve never had a cavity.
41. I worry that my daughter will get diabetes some day and it will be my fault for passing on those genes to her.
42. I love musicals.
43. I’m not afraid to sing in front of an audience but I don’t like playing my trombone or the piano in front of people.
44. I once convinced my sisters that I was a real angel but my wings were invisible.
45. When I was 7 years old my best friend and I invented the mythical world of “Midgetland” entered by crawling under a bikerack on the playground. I’m not sure what happened to us when we were in “Midgetland”. I guess we became midgets. What was the appeal of this? I have no idea!
46. I kind of want to get a tattoo.
47. I almost fainted after I got my ears pierced.
48. Spoiled kids make me want to put them in their place.
49. I’ve never had a flavour of sundae from Mcdonald’s other than caramel..
50. I don’t like canataloupe, honeydew or any type of melon except watermelon.
51. I’ve never been drunk.
52. I’ve never kissed anyone but my husband.
53. I’m glad my daughter has the same color of eyes as her daddy.
54. I used to be afraid to fill up my car with gas. The first time I did it I was probably 18.
55. I like going to the doctor.
56. It’s been 7 years since I saw The Sixth Sense and I still think of it when I’m walking alone at night.
57. I enjoyed Star Trek: The Next Generation.
58. I really and truly don’t care what is on the pizza.
59. I love buying and receiving presents.
60. I despise the song The Little Drummer Boy.
61. I had the barfing flu 5 times last year.
62. I think about my Oma at least once a week and when I think about her I am always sad that she didn’t live long enough to meet my daughter. She was my hero and she was absolutely wonderful with children.
63. I feel guilty whenever I let my daughter watch TV, even if it’s only for a few minutes.
64. Mouth sounds, fidgeting sounds and eating sounds make me want to act out violently.
65. I hate the color red. At least “tomato red”.
66. I don’t like most sugary cereals (ie. Fruit Loops).
67. I don’t drink coffee.
68. I don’t have any top wisdom teeth.
69. I’ve been wearing glasses since I was two years old.
70. I’ve got the names for about ten children picked out in my head. But I don’t intend on having that many.
71. My computer has speakers that have the Barbie logo on them.
72. I hate cream soda.
73. I hated Ferris Buehler’s Day Off.
74. I don’t like it when it’s hotter than about +24 outside.
75. Autumn is my favorite season.
76. I’m not really as competitive as people think I am, just easily frustrated.
77. I love fatty Mennonite foods.
78. I get really frustrated with people who are always getting things handed to them and never seem to have to work for it. Particularly when they make comments about how other people have more money than they do.
79. I’ve never been able to catch on to the rules of football.
80. I didn’t watch a single episode of Survivor until last season.
81. I care way too much what people think of me.
82. When driving I am always envisioning the car next to me hitting me and how I would need to respond to sustain the least amount of damage or keep the other car from hitting the back end where my daughter’s car seat is.
83. I hate Drew Barrymore, Ben Stiller and Adam Sandler and almost every one of their movies.
84. I have never liked soap operas.
85. I hate crowds.
86. I can’t eat creamed corn, it makes me gag. Literally.
87. I don’t like costume parties
88. I love dressing up and getting my hair done.
89. I really don’t like geraniums or petunias.
90. I am easily overwhelmed.
91. I like to do things in my own way and in my own time. I hate being pressured into doing things that I’m not comfortable with.
92. I refuse to shop at Superstore.
93. I love the TV show MASH.
94. I couldn’t eat salsa when I was pregnant.
95. I don’t want to wear contact lenses. I am happy wearing glasses.
96. I am a pretty good swimmer and even worked as lifeguard at one point, but I have secret fear of drowning.
97. Sometimes I pretend like I know what people are talking about when I don’t, just so I won’t look stupid.
98. I had my tonsils out at age nine.
99. I can’t stand people who only use conversations with others as a means to talk about themselves and don’t listen to what other people are saying because they are too busy coming up with their next comment.
100. This survey has taken me over a week to finish.

narcissism | 1 Comment »

I know a number of women who are expecting their first babies in the next several months. It is always funny talking to someone who is expecting their first because women who have children derive this evil
pleasure out of trying to scare the crap out of new moms by sharing each gory detail of their pregnancy, labour, delivery and anything that might have gone wrong or caused them grief once they had their new
infant at home. We don’t mean to do it. We just can’t help it. I guess maybe we are just proud of ourselves for enduring what was really difficult, or we are trying to make a common experience sound worse than it was so that we can feel better about ourselves. It isn’t nice and I’m trying not to do it so much.

But there are some real bits of advice that I wish I could give these new moms but that I know they either won’t understand until they actually have their baby, or won’t believe because deep down we all believe that our baby will be perfect and that they we will bounce back into life after the birth with tonnes of energy and excitement at all the new challenges motherhood has to offer. So I’m posting them here because I just wanted to get them out.

Dear new mother,

There are some things I want to tell you but can’t, for fear of spoiling your joy at your up and coming new baby or filling you with apprehension.  Here they are:

• Sometimes you will think you’ve made a huge mistake in becoming a parent. Don’t worry, this feeling will pass and you aren’t a bad person for feeling it. Everyone does at one point or another.

• Don’t doubt your instinct. Although all new mothers can very easily tip over the edge of paranoia, you do have a certain amount of instinct and if you think something is wrong with your baby and your doctor
dismisses you, see someone else. You know your baby better than anyone else and just because it is your first baby, it doesn’t mean you don’t recognize when something is not right.

• Have patience with yourself. Some days you won’t shower until the evening, or at all. You may not accomplish anything other than feeding and changing the baby. That’s ok. Learning to be a mother is exhausting and if you do nothing else, you kept your baby alive for one more day. That, in itself is a feat of monumental proportions.

• Your body will never be the same again. I know you smile at me when I say this and deep down you believe that you will get your old figure back. But even if you loseWeight Exercise all the Lose Weight Exercise, you will not be the same.
Things will move and change, other things will sag and droop and stretch. You will learn to hide this and go on. Your husband will not think any less of you. And I promise you that it really is worth it.

• Breastfeeding can be excrutiatingly hard at first, both physically and emotionally. Don’t give up. It gets better. I PROMISE it gets better.

• If you think you might be going through postpartum depression, you probably are. Don’t let it go. Talk to your doctor. Just because it’s not unendurable doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get some help, whether in the form of a support group or medication or both. 

• Your husband can and should help, in the day, the night, whenever you need it. Don’t ever tell yourself that the baby is your responsibility because he was at work all day. You have been at work all day, too. You
just may not have left the house. But it was challenging and exhausting and the two of you will just have to help each other out. That’s what partnership is all about.

• Your baby will cry. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. It may push you to the edge of your sanity. It may make you behave in ways you never would normally. You just might get that colicky baby, and if you do, again, I
promise it settles down eventually. It seems like a long time when you’re in the midst of it but at some point it will be only a memory.

Motherhood may be the most guilt-laden profession in the world. You will feel guilty for doing things to, or for, your child or not doing the very same things. You can beat yourself up like crazy when you look back and realize that you helped your child form bad habits like needing a soother when they’re still 18 months old (I speak from experience). But you are doing the best you can. You will make mistakes. But you will be fine and so will your baby. Don’t allow the guilt to gnaw at you. It will waste the precious little time that you
have with your baby. You really won’t believe how fast it goes. But I guess you’ll soon see all this for yourself. Good luck!

motherhood | No Comments »

I am so completely floored right now I can hardly put sentences together!  I have been given a most unexpected and extremely generous gift. But let me start at the beginning….

I have been a Juvenile Diabetic for 12 and a half years.  This disease has ruled my life day in and day out. It dictates when I eat, when I sleep and saps a lot of my freedom.  I have controlled my diabetes all these years with what is called Multiple Daily Injection Therapy. Basically this means I give myself injections of
insulin.  When I was first diagnosed with diabetes I injected myself twice a day.  Over the years the number of injections has increased and I currently give myself seven injections a day.  This is not because I have poor control of my diabetes, but because I can achieve better control  this way.  By giving myself
multiple injections I can more closely mimic a normally functioning pancreas which is constantly excreting insulin.  The best I can do on shots is inject more frequently. 

In recent years my endocrinologist has been recommending that I try out what is called an Insulin Pump. 
This is a pager-sized device that is worn on the belt (or some such place) and it is connected to the patient’s body with very fine tubing.  The pump contains cartridges of insulin and it delivers a continuous dose of insulin.  When the person has something to eat they simply press a few buttons on the machine and it delivers a larger dose of insulin to go along with the meal.  The bottom line of this is that a pump user does not have to use injections. The site where the tubing is inserted must be changed every 3 days.  But compared to seven times a day this is sounding pretty good!  The other benefit is that using a pump greatly decreases the likelihood of developing scary long-term complications of diabetes like kidney
failure, heart disease, blindness, and diabetic neuropathy.

But there’s always a catch.  Insulin pumps cost money.  A LOT of money.  Around $7000.  Let’s just say that is a little more than I have lying around.  So when I finally decided a pump would be worth trying out I had to look around for some other possibilities to purchase said pump.  My first idea was to get my
group insurance from my husband’s work to pay for the pump.  Their response was, and I quote “OH HELLZ NO!!!” (Ok, maybe they were slightly more discreet, but that was the sentiment.)  As far as insurance is concerned, an insulin pump is a cadillac and I am only entitled to a Seven-Shots-a-Day-Toyota. 

But I did not give up hope.  I waited until my husband’s employer changed insurance companies and asked again.  This time I was treated to the best Insurance has to offer when confronted by a client who is using up “too much” of their money: our benefits were cut off until we applied for and were rejected by the Saskatchewan Drug Plan.  Nice. Really nice.  Ever the optimist, I persevered. I wrote my MP and my MLA asking them to take action in their respective areas of government, to push for change.  I explained why pumps are better than injection therapy and how the government would save themselves a lot of money in the long run (in hospital care and treatment for diabetic complications) by paying for insulin pumps for diabetics.  Their political correct and socially sensitive responses were “Uhhh…I don’t think there’s anything we can do about that” and “I am not sure that we can help, except to confirm that our healthcare system is in chaos and needs work” (and that is a direct quote).  Way to go guys. 

Feeling defeated, I was ready to give up hope.  But a friend recommended that I try applying for a Kinsmen Telemiracle grant.  My enthusiasm renewed, I filled out an excrutiatingly long and detailed application.  I had hoped to have my application considered at their August meeting but that was not possible.  So I have been waiting and trying to be patient.  This Saturday they will meet and will hopefully discuss my situation.  I have been told, however, that a person asking for the same equipment was turned down by Kinsmen and he made considerably less money than my husband as he was a student. 

So it seems I am stuck in this sinkhole of Middle Class frustration.  Too wealthy to qualify for any kind of social assistance that might actually purchase a pump for me, and too poor to have seven grand just lying around.  What to do?  I resolved to go on as I have been doing and hope that in a few years, once some of our debt was paid off, we would be able to purchase a pump on a financing plan where we could pay it off over several years.

But now… the super exciting news….This past week I was visiting with a friend who moved out of town several months ago.  I told her about the problems I had encountered and about my desire to buy a pump.  Today I got a call from this friend saying she had told her parents about my situation and they, apparently being very generous and making regular charitable donations, have offered to give me over half of the money for an insulin pump!  Yes, these two people who have never met me before, have given me such a huge gift. Not just the gift of money, but the opportunity to have a longer, more fulfilling and probably much healthier life!  I almost wept when I hung up the phone tonight.  These people probably don’t realize it, but they have become angels to me.  They have lifted a heavy burden from my shoulders and I am completely overwhelmed with gratitude.  What can I say in a situation like this but a most heartfelt “thank you.”

So I am looking forward to getting an insulin pump, hopefully in the next month.  I am waiting to be officially rejected by Kinsmen.  I suppose if it works out in the end then that would be wonderful, too.  But I don’t think anything could compare to this gift. Kinsmen is an organization dedicated to helping people and that is a wondeful thing. But somehow, the unsolicited gift of a generous heart has touched me more than winning a grant ever will.  We’ll see where the path leads.  But tonight, I will be thankful for the people who have shown me this extraordinary kindness.

the diabetes | 2 Comments »

I’m giving a new look a try here. I’m not sure what I’m going to end up with finally but I’m just fiddling around a bit.

No Comments »

My pirate name is: Captain Charity Kidd

Even though there’s no legal rank on
a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you’re the one in charge. Even
though you’re not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your
steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr

Click here to find out your pirate name!

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I am obviously on a kind of honeymoon with the whole Live Journal thing because everything that I think of is automatically transposed into an LJ entry. But I’m writing it anyway. I think it’s good for me and I’m sure my enthusiasm will wear off eventually. So feel free to ignore this.

I bought fat-free ice cream yesterday. Not because I wanted fat-free ice cream but because there was no regular vanilla ice cream in the size that I wanted. So I bought the ff instead. But I am not impressed with it. It tastes fine but it has a very funny consistency and color. It is almost stretchy and oily looking. I’m not sure why that is. But it’s just not right. I don’t think I will be buying it again. And Mellie, I was looking for the Fro Yo, but they didn’t have any in a big enough container for what I needed it for. Next time.

eats rambling | 1 Comment »

My brother-in-law died of cancer this past August. His personality always rubbed me the wrong way (I know, nice opener, right?). I tried to be open-minded but his manner was very aggressive and I always felt like he thought he had all the answers and if I (or anyone) disagreed with him then we were written off as “an idiot”.

In his last year, while undergoing cancer treatments and then, when he was no longer being treated because there was no hope of recovery, he was very sharp, impatient and downright nasty at times. For me it was a constant struggle between trying to have compassion for him and not wanting to let him get away with treating people like crap. I felt like someone needed to stand up to him and say “this is not ok”. Maybe it wasn’t the right approach but that was my response.

G was 25 when he died. He was born the same year as me. It is impossible for me to imagine the difficult road he had to walk. I certainly wouldn’t want to trade places with him. Cancer is a terrible way to die. In a lot of ways I feel like thinking about him will always evoke a sense of frustration, sadness and pity because so much of my interaction with him involved those emotions. It seemed like his maturation was stunted around age 14 because although he wanted to do things on his own and not need anyone for anything, whenever things were going poorly he played the victim, suffering injustice at the hands of others. He had such fiery anger and bitterness towards his mother which seemed to me to be misplaced. We have all been disappointed in some way, by how our parents raised us, but they do their best and sometimes they just don’t know the right way to demonstrate their love for us.

So G’s reactions to many people and situations frustrated me in a huge way. I don’t know all the reasons for his feelings and obviously there are going to be major gaps in what I can understand about a person that I only knew for 6 years, but these were my observations: G seemed to feel that he had not had a noteworthy life, that there were no stories about him worth telling or memories worth passing on. This attitude made me pity him more than anything. What a sad way to look back on his life, brief as it was. This also saddened my husband because much knowledge, information and history died with him.

I do not share this to leave a negative legacy about G, but simply to be honest about my feelings about him. I felt, particularly in this last year, that he resented my presence and had no respect for my opinions. Likely, this was largely my fault because I often reacted in the wrong way to his behaviour and words. I responded childishly to childish behaviour. I met his stubbornness with my own strong will. I pray that I can be forgiven me for my judgmentalism and harsh words. I choose not to live in regret, and I know G would agree with me on that point. There is no value in regretting the past. We can only resolve to make better choices in the future.

When he died there was a sense of relief, both that G’s suffering was over, and that the family was released from a sentence of service. Not that they would have had it any other way, but the burden of caring for someone who is dying is an extremely heavy one. I recall thinking that it was unfortunate that G’s final opinion of me was likely not a favorable one but I didn’t see many things that I could have done differently where he was concerned.

Recently I read the script of a video that G made for our daughter. It was just him on camera sharing some thoughts and ideas about the world for her to see when she is old enough to understand what happened to him. He made the recording after months of arguing with us about how he had nothing to say and how much he hated being on camera. We let the issue go and assumed that he wasn’t going to do it. We were visiting the family less than a month before G died and he told us that he was going to do it. We received a copy of the script via email after his funeral and I finally got a chance to sit down and read it.

I was totally shocked by what he had to say about me. His words to my daughter about me were these: “…learn from your mother. She has this strength about her that I hope you take after, a certain confidence and poise that is admirable.” Wow. While I didn’t expect him to say offensive things about me, I wouldn’t have been surprised to not be mentioned at all. It simply floored me. I was honored to be represented in that way and I was so glad that he did appreciate me in some way. I guess it just set my mind at ease a little bit. I’m not superstitious or obsessed with living in the past. I would like to believe that G now has a more complete understanding of his life and the way his actions affected other people. Surely a much more thorough understanding than I have. But it is good to know that his last thoughts of me weren’t all bad.

So my final goodbye to you, G, is this: You have taught me many things about myself. Perhaps the bad that I so easily perceived in you is what I most hated in myself. I will honor your memory and teach my daughter that her big bear of an uncle was one with a great capacity to learn and love, despite his shortcomings. She will know how you faced your final days with courage, despite the pain you experienced, both physically and emotionally. She will know that you were fierce in your opinions but even more so in your passion. I pray she inherits at least some of that ferocity. She will need it to face all that this world will bombard her with.

Rest in peace, my brother.

goodbyes, life and death | 4 Comments »