part ll: the next leg

We were home for one night in between the two parts of our 'journey'. Just enough time for a shower, two loads of laundry and to pack up again. Here are some pictures from the first part of our week. The kids are having a great time and I'm enjoying the company of friends. See you in a few days! I love sitting by the lake and listening to the silence while gazing at the moon. So condusive to sorting out problems...causes a few tears though...
It was fabulous having extra hands everywhere to cuddle kids and make sure they weren't lost in the woods...

It was awesome that Penny was with us!
Sleepin' in the car...
Look! I put up the tent all by myself....even faster than Jeff. He DIDN'T throw out the instructions afterall and I USED them. Easy as pie. Really.
Liv's fairy house...The lakefront of our campsite...
Diesel, the wonder dog (Marnie's)...
Liv has been in constant motion for the last few days...
DUSTY car....
Kirk in the boat with the kids - on land....

Serious snorkeller...(is that a word?)
Making of the fairy house...
A tonne of lake fun...

Lots of walks...
Briar's buddy for the trip, Mickey (Marnie's too)...

P.S.

Me and my Marnie. She's the best. I am so stooked that she and I will have almost a whole week to hang out 24/7 while we're camping. I, honestly, don't know what I'd do without all my friends, family, supporters and commentors during this time. Thank you so much to all of you. Thanks for letting me lean and sway.
I'll be back soon...xox

heading out

So tomorrow is the big test...Can I really camp without Jeff? With two little ones AND sanity partially intact? I'm dreading/excited about it. A bunch of us girlfriends and their kids are going....plus, one husband. I don't know if he knows that no other men are going. We had a similar camping trip last summer with Jeff as the token husband. I didn't actually tell him that his camping companions for the week would be all female or under four feet tall until we all arrived and were setting up the tent. *snicker* He wasn't impressed at first but soon had a great time. He had us all giggling and we, in turn, had him shaking his head at some of the conversations that he found himself privy to.
So, wish me luck putting up our ridiculously large tent (it even has a lightswitch!) without his help or any instructions (he threw them out). I'll take pictures of the finished product.
I'll update in a week when the camping laundry is in the machine and the campfire smoke has been washed from our hair.

if you don't want to know for real, look away

My posts have sucked lately. I know. They aren't about anything. Just bullshit that happens around here. Not what really happens around here.

I am trying to be upbeat. Not so melancholy. Not so pissed off. I am trying to do what everyone tells me is 'appropriate' behaviour at this fucking time. "Keep your chin up. Don't wallow. Don't cry in front of the kids. Find things that make you happy." It reminds me of an article I read when I was about 13. It said that if you feign confidence and self-assurance, you'll one day begin to believe it. I am really trying. I take pictures of myself shelling peas and intend to write a post about the 'joy' it brings me to eat food from the garden...My former self found real satisfaction in this. I try to find ways to look at the various occurrances around the house with humour....It's just not funny. (Fuckles got ANOTHER goddammed batch of newly hatched chicks and just hatching ducklings a couple of weeks ago. It's just not funny anymore. It's sick.) I attempt to plan camping trips with the kids and our good friends...I find myself completely stressed over packing, printing off maps, grovery shopping and finding dog sitters (I am NOT taking that asshole, Fuckles, camping or anywhere else right now. In fact, I wonder if the vet will give me a 2-for-1 deal when I have Eli put down....Okay, I wouldn't really do that, but I do fantasize.) I end up imagining myself in the dark, damp quiet of the tent crying over the fact that Jeff isn't here with me and the kids and neither is Eli.

I feel consumed with anger. I want to lash out. I'm not talking the "Oh, poo! Am I ticked off!" anger. I am talking the sort of rage that makes you want to push sweet old ladies into traffic, kick soft, floppy eared puppies and scream obscenities at three year olds blowing bubbles. There is no rhyme or reason to this fury. I just want to reach out of my body and explode. Like a large burning blob of lava. Burning up everything in my path.

There is no specific target and no apparent reason for all this anger....Other than the loss of Jeff. The aging of my sweet Eli. The unresolved illness of my beloved Bub (grandpa). Life in general.

I know this wrath does not assist anything or anyone...but it's there and I can't chase it away...no matter how many pictures of garden vegetables I take.

I want to kick at those who suggest I behave a certain way. Do a specific thing. Take up a particular action. Who the fuck are they? How the fuck do they know? Why the fuck do they care?! I want to be left alone.....But I am so lonely.

My emotions are like the things you find in the garbage bin. Things that would never find themselves in the same location except when they are being thrown out. A cucumber peel. A toenail clipping. A snarled up ball of wire. A bra tag. They don't make sense when they're together. I don't make sense.

It seems that I am alone in this. I AM alone in this. There are so few young widows. Matt and I speak on the phone regularly and I come away feeling understood and almost hopeful that I can carry on conversations one day without trying to pretend to be okay...Just really actually being okay. For real. For me. Not for anyone's expectations of me or my actions. Knowing that someone can hear me and have no judgements because they do truly know what it is like is amazing. Everyone is an expert, it seems. It's easy to be an expert when you don't have to stare this reality in the face every waking and non-waking moment.

I hate everything. I don't want to deal with anything. I want to curl up in a ball and cry/sleep/die. I get the 'you're so strong.' I'm not. I've fallen into a million pieces but I have to stand here with the kids. I am a vacant void and I feel awful. If you had no one, you'd have to get up too. I don't have the fucking luxury of becoming comatose. There is no one else. I am alone.

I try to comfort myself with my memories of my love. I am told that I should put those thoughts out of my head. I don't want to! I want to remember him. I want to hold onto any tiny fragment of him that I can and cherish it. Protect it. As long as I have those memories, there is proof that he was. My kids can know him. I can feel loved. I can attempt to not feel so alone. I can giggle at things that he did or said. I can pretend that all isn't lost.

So, anyhow, here are the fucking peas. I am oh-so-happy that I can eat from my garden. It means so fucking much. It's all so fucking special.

playing with the moon

Up again late last night....Saw the moon. Tried again to take some pictures of the bright moon setting the fog on the lake aglow. Not hugely successful (no tripod and the wash line was in the way of my shot when I tried to anchor my elbows on the deck railing)....but then, I discovered that I can paint with the moon! Liv was pretty impressed when I showed her in the morning. Other adults may not find it as interesting, but to me, anything that makes me smile right now is like gold.

I think this one makes the moon look like a UFO...

like a hole in the head

Jeff had promised Liv that she could get her ears pierced for her sixth birthday. I could have said 'no'....But how could I deny this sweet little face this joy? (How can having a small metal post thrust through your ear lobe be a 'joy'?) It makes me shutter to look at those tiny little ear lobes and see those holes. I had to try to not focus on the technical side of the piercing. (I once passed out when friends talked about another friend's labour.) But we both made it through the experience. Liv even made it without tears....

I still feel so bloody ripped off when we do things that we were supposed to do with Jeff. Will the feelings of injustice ever subside? I realize that these feeling don't serve any positive purpose and that they just cause me pain, but I can't help but to feel pissed off.

big city, big world

To celebrate Liv's birthday this year, we went to the 'big city'. As always, one of the highlights of the trip was the ferry ride. I remember being SO excited as a child to catch the ferry. It didn't matter where we were going, I just wanted to ride the ferry! My kids seem to have the same infatuation. The wind, the expanses of deck to run around on, the card games brought aboard, the special snacks, occasionally seeing people you know travelling to the mainland as well. What's not to love?! The two hour ride went too fast for the kids and we had moans of "What? We're here already?"
My wonderful friend, Erin, and her girls came over with us to spend the day. I am so glad they came! It made the trip even more special.
We saw many of the varieties of fish that Jeff caught and I remembered stories and info that Jeff had told me about some of them. It made me feel close to him.
Liv has been completely tranfixed by the live web cam of the baby beluga that was born at the aquarium. She begged to go see Qila and her calf in person...er, whale. I'm a bit torn since I appreciate the educational purposes of the aquarium but I am loathe to see these animals out of their environment, in relatively puny tanks just for the enjoyment of people. But we went anyhow. Liv was so stoked. So was Briar.

My brother, Adrian, met us there and thankfully carried Briar around the majority of the time in the Beco (Have I said how much I love this thing?!) I find it fun hanging with my siblings. I find now that we're older it's like being with good friends who share many of the memories I do and have the same interest in dorky science-y stuff. Also, the same sense of humour.

Liv's favourite part of the aquarium ended up being the jellyfish. I had to tear her away numerous times to keep up with us. They are mesmerizing with their undulating, glowing movements. But jellyfish?! I brought you here for the whales!

After the aquarium, we took a trip to Ikea. Erin had never been there so it was quite an experience for her. I only went for a duvet cover...Came home with a few more things. Bloody hell.

Getting back to the ferry after our excursion was interesting. I have to say that I am SO glad that I live on the island. I don't know how people handle that traffic everyday. I find it all so loud and there are too many things I want to look at. I feel exhausted and overwhelmed. Maybe I'm just getting old. I remember soaking it up as a teenager when I'd skip school to go to the city for the day. Now I just find it stressful.

6 years ago yesterday

Yesterday morning at 8:40 am was the sixth anniversary of the moment that you came to be with us, our little Bean. You have learned so many things since that time...and so have I. Daddy and I have taught you how to talk, give the best little hugs, tie your shoes, share (most of the time) and ride a bike. In exchange, you've taught us about the infinite qualities of love. I am constantly learning through every moment that you are with me.

The morning you were born was so sunny and warm. We were having a hard time and it was taking so long for you to come meet us. When you were finally here, Daddy said, "So you're the one we've been waiting for! It's Olivia!!" I held you and cried happy tears. I had no idea that I could love someone so much, so fast. When I went to get cleaned up a bit, Daddy sat in the rocking chair and sang quietly to you. I can't remember what the song was anymore, but I watched him smile and sing to you. He watched you and you gazed up at him in the bright morning sun. Before Daddy died, he and I talked about this day. Daddy really wanted you to have a new bike since yours has gotten so small...maybe you've just gotten so big?! The week before he left us, when he taught you to ride a bike without training wheels, you finally agreed to part with your tiny little bike. Daddy was so pleased! He was excited to pick one out for his Bean. I can feel Daddy with us on this day, sweetie. He was part of these decisions and was/is so proud of what a big girl you are becoming.

Happy Birthday, my sweet little one. We love you, our big six year old.

summer....

Attempting to look up. Hating these downward swings. Trying to surround myself and the kids with positive....stuff. Headed to the city tomorrow.

here's the deal

I am having an infinitely hard time lately with not only losing Jeff and the ensuing fall-out but my beloved grandfather is ill and in hospital. He and I have always been close and I am intensely concerned about his health.
I have been dealing with the effects of mastitis....again. I feel like crap. I can't take regular antibiotics due to allergies and the drugs that they have me on are hard on the stomach.
Eli is having more bad days than good, it seems. He is having trouble walking but isn't in pain and is quite happy. Do I put him down because he can't walk? Do I wait until he is in pain? I can't imagine dealing with my life without him. I realize that's slightly ridiculous...but I have always had him to be with me. Through everything.
FUCKles ate another batch of freshly hatched chicks and soon-to-hatch duck eggs. I hate him right now. I know it's instinct for him....but fuck, I hate him.
I'm on the FOURTH computer since Jeff died. My new camera isn't uploading images for some bloody reason and I can't figure out while all this brand-new technological crap is breaking. I need things to go smoothly just for awhile and everything is rough.

i'm a sucky mommy

Sometimes, I look around and wonder how I have ever managed to delude myself even for a moment into thinking that I can do this. Alone. The empties in the garage. The flies in the kitchen. Shampooing the carpet. Tidying the various kid paraphernalia from the floor a multitude of times per day. Explaining why hitting isn't a form of communication that I'd like the kids to practice. Driving to playdates. Fixing the screen door. Attending doctor's appointments....All things I did before, but now, I don't think I can do all of it. I have no reprieve. Unless I ask. I am embarassed to ask. Don't want to burden anyone. Help is only temporary anyhow. I feel less guilty if I do it myself. But more burdened.
I want a break. A holiday. How? From what? I only have to come back. I can't escape what has happened. I can't avoid the inevitable responsibilities. I can't eschew the emotions.
I am a sour and foul tempered mother. I want to be alone. I want time to myself. I crave silence. I fantasize about not having to perform these small mundane tasks in an endless cycle. I feel guilty for feeling this way. It makes me want to hold the little ones close and assure them that I do love them so very much. Is there room to love two little people so thoroughly and intensely but to need and desire time away from them and the responsibilities? I feel awful even admitting it. I do. I love them so fiercely. But I am tired. And missing their daddy. And his support.

My upswing is evidently over. I've taken a few kick in the chops over the last couple of days. I am SO trying to not keep score of all the shit that seems to be piling down....I have nothing positive to say. I am trying to search for silver linings and hope but I'm only finding sadness and stress. I don't want to bore anyone with my melancholy droning. So I'll only be uploading some photos for the next little bit....until I have something worthwhile to say. Please bear with me....

payback is a bitch...

Or maybe just a really funny looking haircut on a poultry eating dog.

(We shave Freckles every Summer to keep him cool. Liv enjoys picking the hairstyle. This year, it's a mohawk and poodle tail. How am I going to take him out in public?)

peace

I've been wanting to write about this for a couple of weeks but whenever I sit down to try to explain this feeling or phenomenon that I'm experiencing, it ceases. I'm aware that these revelations may sound flighty and silly. I may be losing it but I am hoping that they are 'real' and eventually more attainable than for such brief moments.
As you know, I've been experiencing waves of emotion. The vast majority of them are negative. But ti seems that the events in my life, my feelings toward them and my reactions to the world around me occasionally reach a 'peak'. An awful, dreaded, loathesome peak. Like being thrust to the top of an enormous wave, I kick and try to propel myself backward to where I was. I'm terrified and angrywith this predicament that has 'happened' to me. At these times, I can't stop crying at night, I'm impatient with the kids, I'm restless and frustrated. I want a way out. I want to run away.
Then suddenly, I fall. I'm numb. I want to sleep. I don't have the energy for anything. Nothing scares me because there is nothing. Nothing is worth anything. And I'm not fighting.
In the wake of this silence, there is something that I never expected to find in the loss of my love. This is where it feels silly to express this to anyone else, but I'm hoping that someone out there understands this. In these moments, I find peace. Not understanding, but acceptance. A knowledge that things just happen because they do and maybe, possibly, there is some reason (maybe unfathomable reason) for them. In these moments, I am still so sad about losing Jeff, but it's almost as if I can see this loss, feel it, mourn it and, also, use it. Use it to learn...about fear. I have faced my worst fear. Continue to face it, yet somehow, I'm still standing. I can't articulate the feeling well without making it osund simplistic or silly. In fact, it's not that I am standing. It's not even about me. It's just that things 'are'. They just 'are' but they're never the same. And I can't change that. No one can. But there is room for everything in everything. Jeff is gone. But the kids are here. I am horribly sad. But I sometimes feel a giggle sprouting out of me. I won't always be here. But until then, I can learn as much as I can and love as much as I can.
In these moments of peace, I sometimes feel like I can 'feel' Jeff. Not physically. Just his love. And maybe it's not him. Maybe it's just a memory of his love. Maybe that's how we live on. But I know he loved me. I know he'd think I was going to be okay. And in these all too brief moments, I believe him.

Unfortuantely, nothing lasts. But I will weather the next wave, if I can find this peace once again.

deer-y me

Last night on the way home from a wonderful day and BBQ with Erin and family, we came across a herd (is that what you call it?) of deer at the side of the road. Six bucks and one doe. They were so tame. I managed to get pretty close. The kids were up way too late and were freaking out in the car, so I didn't get as many pictures as I would have liked. But it was COOL! I wonder if they were all related?
They would look at things in unison. They were checkingout a barking dog. I managed to sneak up from behind while they weren't watching me.
I want to touch their antlers. Are they as soft and velvety as they look?

happy weaner day

Our little boy celebrated his 'Weaner Day' today....No, not that weiner, weirdo. He is now weaned. No more nursing. I agree with the idea of child-led weaning, but, man, I am tired of breastfeeding. I want to sleep through the night if I can. I don't want to be 'attacked' when I sit down. I'd like to have a phone conversation without having to 'assume the position' of nursing. So, I decided on my way home from my little getaway last weekend that I was done. I just need the space. I hope that doesn't make me a 'bad mommy' but I need something to have some....'space'. He's taken it pretty much in stride. We've had a few sleepless nights because of it, but I am pretty used to living without a large amount of sleep these days.

Anyhow, our big boy enjoyed his cake. We did the same celebration with Liv when she was weaned. She insisted that Briar have the priviledge as well. She even made him a card.

Happy Weaner Day, Briar!

i am jackie...I think

One thing I realized from my night away is that I am' still Jackie'. I am aware that this revelation may sound odd; but after spending years of being ‘Jeff and Jackie’, I am struggling with the ‘new’ identity that has been thrust upon me. I have been labelling myself as Widow. Mother. Emotionally broken. Sad. Angry. Confused. But not ‘Jackie’.
After spending a little bit of time doing things I enjoy, I realized that I am still me. A different me. A me with a whole slew of new ‘baggage’ but I am in there.

Unfortunately, I can never be ‘Jeff and Jackie’ again. I loved our little exclusive team. I loved the umbrella of being a pair. Secret jokes. Memories only the two of us shared. The intimacy. The security.
Now I am just one. It is a huge change. But it is reassuring to find that I didn’t cease to exist when Jeff died. I’m still here….
I look at the photos of me and the reflection of my life before Jeff’s death. I look happy. I look carefree. I am silly and know that I am loved.
Now, I see the bereft emptiness in my eyes. Even when I’m smiling, it doesn’t look genuine. My face is smiling but my eyes look a couple of steps behind. Can other people see it? Is it just me?
But I am me. A new version of me. Maybe one day, I can smile luminous smiles and laugh from my soul. I’ll try to be patient.

happy birthday Canada

Enjoy Canada Day, my fellow Canadians!

14 weeks

My love,
It’s been fourteen weeks since you left me….fourteen weeks. It’s such a ridiculous number. I want to keep time in weeks as it seems that less time has elapsed. I’ve always thought that those who kept track of their children’s ages in smaller increments were slightly unhinged. “Oh! Bobby-Jo is 137 weeks old! Lisa-beth is 92 months.” I can’t believe how time has passed. Now I wonder if I, too, must now mark time in months rather than weeks.
I still feel that you will walk through the door. The dog is going to announce your arrival with happy barking. The kids will squeal when you open the screen door and jump at you yelling, “Uppy! Uppy!” Does this feeling ever go away? In some ways, I hope so. The expectation and the following crash that happens with every hopeful thought is devastating. Conversely, not expecting you to come back to me fills me with sadness and dread. It will mean that I know that you’re gone. I’m not ready to know that yet. I’m not ready to let go. I’m not ready to have you be part of the past. To me, you are still part of the present. I don’t want that shift. But it hurts to feel that somewhere deep in my heart, you are coming back to me. That you’ll return. Having my mind dispute this makes my heart want to stage a mutiny.
My thoughts and feelings are becoming a terrifying roller-coaster ride as I begin to emerge from the numbing fog. I try to hold myself together. I’ll think I’m doing okay. And then I crash. I lose it and cry. I can’t keep on top of anything. I feel disappointed in myself and I know that I am disappointing others. This breaks me, Jeff. I don’t want to affect anyone else with this grief and fucked up mental state. I want to be able to walk upright, be self-sufficient and strong. This sadness and exhaustion is grossly inconvenient and….embarrassing. It makes me feel weak and impotent. A waste. A letdown.
I am trying to feel brief moments of happiness without guilt. I don’t know if guilt is actually the correct word. It just doesn’t feel ….natural to genuinely smile and laugh without you to share these things with. It’s forced and awkward. I am constantly analyzing my thoughts and actions. Am I okay? Am I behaving normally? Am I making people uncomfortable?
I’ve learned so much in the last fourteen weeks. About myself. About society. About other people’s reactions to pain. This learning process has made me stronger as all the people who don’t actually ‘know’ have said. But not because I am learning how to heal. Only because I have learned to carry it with everything else. Like an overstuffed, over-sized backpack. My muscles grow stronger but the load isn’t any lighter.
I just wish that I could find some peace. A solid answer to why and where you went. A knowledge that I would ‘see’ you again wouldn’t be unwelcome! But even if I knew, I was alone. That I have to face this future without your whisper in my ear or your kisses in my dreams, that I would have an answer. I’d know if it was worth searching for the possibility of you.
I miss you. I want you back. I want you to grow old with me like you were supposed to. I want you to sing songs to me in the answering machine for me to find when I wake in the morning while you’re fishing. I want to find the post-it notes around the house that you’d hide on me only to find at unexpected moments. I want to hear your cough and laugh through the kitchen wall as you watch your favourite shows while fixing something in the garage. This is just not fucking fair. I DO NOT want to be without you. Alone.
Why did this happen?!!!!!!!!!!!!!???????????
Damn it.

I love you, the whole pie. Even though right now, I’m pissed off. See? Now, I’m learning. I am really fucking angry, but I am saying, “I LOVE YOU”. And I do, Jeffrey. I do.