I CANNOT…

I cannot live with my memories yet I cannot live without them….

THESE ROADS

As the love of my life captures my heart so do the roots of my father.  My boyfriend is from a small town of Eston, Saskatchewan which was also my Dad’s hometown, and the hometown of generations past in my family.  This place has always meant so much to me, in fact growing up although I’ve never lived here, it has always felt like a home to me.  When I visited Eston with my parents, when I heard stories about growing up from my family, when I saw pride from my father as we drove these roads, I felt at home because I felt roots, deep roots of history, family, and love.

Eston is the place where my father was born and raised, it is the place where my mother caught his attention, where their love blossomed, and where their life together began.  Eston is where my father learned his work ethic, the importance of family, and the balance between hard work and play.  Eston was a love of my Dads life, it a place where he humbly stood in gratitude, and a place where with great thanks he called home.  Tonight I am in Eston and as always when I am here my Dad is on my mind all of the time.  Each place I visit, everything I do, every spot I drive past, consumes thoughts of my Dad.

I drive down the roads my father once drove and my mind races in questions and thoughts.  What is the exact number of times my Dad drove these roads, what conversations were had with whom during those drives, where was his favourite spot to drive past or his favourite quiet spot to pull over and pray.  For some reason these roads captivate me the most, out of all the places Eston has to offer with memories of my Dad, the roads to my families farm are my favourite to daydream about.  I drive down this road and memories flood my mind.  I drive and in fast motion I see me as a child standing on the side of the road playing in the fields with my Dad, I drive and six miles up I see myself riding in the combine on my Dads lap, I drive and four miles up I see my Dad and I riding in the car with my Grandpa Jellybean, I drive and two miles up I see my family standing in amazement as we watch a cat deliver its kittens, zooming past me are piles of memories.  Each time I mentally drive ahead, memories of life with my Dad speed past me, frustrated I slam on my breaks wanting to slow down enough to relive each and every moment, wanting to turn around and stay in that memory, but I am driving too fast, my breaks no longer work, and the only option left is to keep driving ahead.

MERRY (?) CHRISTMAS

We are going to suffer.
And it is going to shape us.
Somehow.

We will become
BITTER OR BETTER
CLOSED OR OPEN
MORE IGNORANT OR MORE AWARE
MORE OR LESS

turned in to the thousands
upon thousands of gifts we
are surrounded with every single
moment of every single day.

This too will shape me.
The only question left is, how?

-Rob Bell, Drops Like Stars

 

 

GOOGLE, I HATE YOU

Google.  This website browser is set on my home-page so that every time my internet is opened it is the first thing I see. It is a tool I use regularly to search almost anything, it has created a link between me and nearly anything I want to know or learn.  Up until eleven weeks ago, I considered google a friend of mine but our friendship was abruptly disrupted when my once-was-friend leaked a secret I wasn’t ready to know.  Google told me my father was dead.  Google.

For ten hours and fifty six minutes my father was no longer alive and I had no clue, none of us did.  Newspapers had already printed articles for the following day, the story had been broadcasted endless times on every news television station across Canada, pictures had been released, media was calling the house, our neighbourhood was a buzz.  It seemed the people who mattered the most were the only ones blissfully unaware of the tragedy which had already taken place.

Since my fathers death I have often wished I could go back into moments of time and stay frozen there.  Favourite childhood memories, moments of my life that were impactful, important, or even simple or mundane; endless, endless moments shared with my father that I wish I could permanently return too.  But a more realistic moment I would love to go back too would be the day my father was gone and I didn’t even know it.  You see living in memories of the past with my father is impossible but what isn’t impossible is having my world shatter without even knowing.  I want that back.  Hours before I found out that my life was forever changed I was watching a movie Ghost Town (which is ironically about the dead trying to communicate with the living), playing Uno with my boyfriend, and talking on the phone till late in the evening with my sisters.  I want that moment back, the moment where my greatest loss had already happened yet it coexisted with the gift of ignorance.

In my favourite game of “would you rather” I have asked myself a million questions “would you rather know your Dad died right away, or would you rather have the slowest team of people imaginable trying to contact a family after a death”?  The later option (although frustrating at times) always seems to be my choice.  I would rather live my life simply unaware.  I would rather have gone to bed believing my Dad had a busy day and forgot to phone to see if I had made it to Eston safely, that he was too busy to return my calls, that he was just too tired to pick up the phone because he was already safely tucked into bed sound asleep.

I could have waited, I knew an officer was coming to the house, one more minute, a half an hour, who knows how long they would have taken, but it would have given me more time.  More time of hope, more time of not knowing, more time of believing my Dad was still a part of my world.  Instead, I opened my trusted google, I searched “Calgary news” and read “Sundre plane crash, three victims, no survivors” and I knew.

Google, who would have thought it would be the one to tell me that the most important man in my life was forever gone?  I suppose you can google anything now-a-days, even the exact moment your heart breaks in a million pieces and the world as you know it forever seems broken.

Image Source: GOOGLE…of course!

WALK OUT THOSE DOORS

There are moments of clarity for me where I feel I really grasp what is happening in my world, but those moments are few and far between and right now I am thankful for that.  I am alright with still playing pretend months later.  But there are always those times that no matter what you try to believe or how hard you try to believe it, the truth stings you into a bitter reality.

Tomorrow I will be home.  I cannot wait to be with my family and yet I dread getting off the plane.  You see, my family fly’s more than the average family, and flights home work like clockwork.  I email my mom with my itinerary and that’s it, the rest is taken care of.  From there my Dad picks me up at the airport and my Mom stays home to greet me with one of my favourite home cooked meals.  We have blue jobs and pink jobs in my family, we always have, and it’s always worked.  Never once do my parents write to see if i’ll be getting a friend to pick me up because they know I always prefer them to get me, never once do I call to confirm my Dad will be at the airport because I just know he will.  My parents sincerely love to be the ones to pick me up and welcome me home.

I love being greeted by my Dad at the airport.  He pulls up in his truck with a big grin, always offering one of those gigantic only-a-dad-can-give hugs, sometimes he brings me a coffee, usually he brings my dog, and he always gets out of the vehicle to tell me how happy he is to see me, and load my luggage into the truck.  The day before my Dad died I drove him to the airport for his last commercial flight.  I experienced a rather high amount of road-rage that day and the two of us laughed hysterically at how I pretty much lost my mind on every driver possible.  We had good drives to and from the airport.  Catch up drives, I missed you drives, drives that began or ended in hugs.  It is wild to think I will not have anymore of those drives, not even just one more time.

Tomorrow I am scared my feet will turn into lead as I clear customs and walk out those doors.  I don’t want this reality.  I don’t want to see my poor cold mother driving around in the snow coming to get me.  I want my Dad to pick me up from the airport, it’s his blue job and I want his hug.  Who does the blue jobs now?  Tomorrow my Dad will not be there to pick me up from the airport, he will not be there to pick me up, he will not be there to pick me up.  Like clockwork I rehearse these words wishing they would just sink in yet desperately thankful they don’t.  And all I can think is…is it possible?  Will I round the doors out of the airport only to be greeted by my grinning Dad in his big truck???  Is it at all possible that this is one big nightmare, that tomorrow is the day my broken heart is put back together again?  Oh please, just lie and tell me it is possible…

WALKING A MILE

Today is my niece Kiya Jades second birthday and my heart misses her so much.  I fittingly decided to spend the day at the same waterfall that Tiffany visited while mourning the death of her daughter in Australia.  Tiffany wrote a poem at that spot titled “shoes” and I was thinking of it as the water crooned to my tears all day long.  Below is part of the poem that Tiffany wrote less than two years ago and following it is the poem I wrote as I response to her words…

Shoes by Tiffany Matson:
I write this as a warning,
To the one who finds my shoes.
Looks can be deceiving.
They are not gently used.

I’m trying to send this with love
Not with jealously or spite,
But those shoes weren’t just any shoes
They were “The Shoes” that fit just right.

I imagine you found them parched,
On the rocks beside the water.
I carelessly left them there,
While searching for my daughter.

Though my feet are no longer graced
With their comfort and style,
Take my shoes dear stranger,
I dare you, walk a mile.

They don’t come with a handbook
There are no rules to abide
Just a baby step of faith
Which gets longer stride-by-stride.

Sometimes this journey is a struggle
But His promises are true
And yes, I’m going to miss them
But they now belong to you.

Just in case you’re wondering
I found her on the ledge
She was swimming in the waterfall
When I looked over the edge.

I could have jumped in with her
But when I turned around,
I could not see my shoes
They were nowhere to be found.

I took it as a sign
God wants to show me more.
So while she lives in Heaven
For now, I’ll stay on shore.

I write this as a warning
To the one who finds my shoes.
Looks can be deceiving.
They are not gently used.

Walking a mile:
I was sitting at this waterfall when I found a pair of shoes
They were lovely and looked comfortable, although they had been used
I tried them on regardless to see how they fit for size
And suddenly I was looking at life through someone else’s eyes

I tried to lift my feet, I tried to move around
But the load these shoes have carried just weighed me to the ground
With every step I took, my broken heart would not cease
And I realized the shoes I wore were from the mother of my niece

I could no longer stand the pain of keeping these shoes on
So I took them off of my feet and began to move along
Suddenly I was saddened as I realized my sister couldn’t do the same
You see her hurt is forever, these shoes her eternal pain

I felt torn as I walked away, then something caught my eye
I looked down at the waterfall and then began to cry
I saw a carefree girl giggling and splashing in the water
I took a second look and I swear it was her daughter

She’s grown since I saw her last, but still looks strong and brave
So I caught her attention and frantically began to wave
I told her who I was and that I loved her so
I begged her to come home with me, I begged her not to go

She looked at me and smiled, she knew just who I was
And as our conversation began, my heart just went a buzz
She told me she had a message that I should pass on to her mother
She said to say she misses you and she knows how much you love her

And in a tiny whisper, I gently heard her say
Tell my mom I heard her celebrate my second birthday today
Tell her I was held so tight in Papas arms all day long
And that Jesus helped to serenaded me in my Happy Birthday song

Tell her all my strength I got was from those shoes she wore
And I’m glad she had to wear them for the gift that is in store
One day soon I will see my Mom and when I finally do
I will greet her with a great big hug and a brand new pair of shoes

I love you Tiffy Jade and I am so proud of the Mom that you are.  Happy Birthday to your little girl, I pray her big day was celebrated well!

• 

• 

AND SLEEP BECAME MY FRIEND

There are moments in your life where the weight of sorrow on your heart feels like it is completely suffocating and consuming.  Like if you thought one more thought, or you allowed one more pain into your heart, you would actually combust.  Sometimes my heart aches so bad I think it will actually just explode, or crumble, or just simply melt away until I stop breathing.  It is amazing the pain tolerance that the muscle of the mind and heart can handle, it blows me away every day.

Before surgery the nurses let me call home collect.  I sat on the phone with my sister and my Mom and we talked and cried and laughed.  I laughed a hearty laugh, a laugh I have not had in a very long time.  The sound itself startled me, it made me realize how foreign it is to my world lately and how I need to make decisions for myself in order to make that laughter not so unfamiliar.

Yesterday I had to have surgery and the moment I met my surgeon I liked her.   Her personality invited me to pretend to be as strong as I would like but her eyes invited me to show my fears.   People die or things go dramatically wrong all the time from the simplest of procedures and I was nervous, especially given my situation and given the fact I am doing a fairly big surgery without being at home with my family.  I played the tough card until we were about to roll into the surgical room and then I simply let go.

Right before surgery the nurse asked me to take off my jewelry and instantly my heart broke.  I cried and cried and cried.  Everyone stood around my bedside stunned not knowing what happened.  The only piece of jewelry I was wearing was my airplane necklace, this simple object around my neck seems to comfort me at the touch alone and I wasn’t prepared to take it off.  Eventually, broken heart and all they wheeled me into the surgical room and moved me onto a different bed.  I had hidden a picture of my Dad under my back and when I moved beds it fell out, the nurse once again told me she would need to take it away and I lost all control.  I haven’t done that yet, I have not cried the way I cried at that very moment.  I screamed and I wailed and I could find no words of expression to come from my mouth.  I didn’t care what they thought, my body told me it was time to release.  I looked around the room and I was furious, why could my Dad have not at least made it to a hospital, at least had a fighting chance?  I wept, for what seemed like hours and nobody moved.  My heart shattered on that table and I cried in pain, in fear, in loss, and frustration.  I cried because I didn’t know if I would be more disappointed if I didn’t wake up from surgery or if I did.  I cried because it was the only thing left in me to do; breathing, speaking, venting, none of it is working anymore.  And suddenly my surgeon walked over to me, tucked my picture under my sheets and just over my heart, looked me kindly in the eye, and with a broken heart herself she whispered, “Jenelle, I am going to put you to sleep now”.  And she did, and it was perfect.  It was magic actually, to carry all that pain, to release it and then just calmly fall asleep.  It was the best gift I have received during my time in Australia and an outreach I will forever appreciate.

Home is on the horizon and I couldn’t be happier.

NEITHER AM I

I remember the night my parents called us girls.  The five of us on the phone, the air thick with worry knowing we were about to hear something we really didn’t want too.  Dad broke the silence with a shaky voice “girls, I don’t want you to panic and I want you to know I am going to be alright but we got some bad news today.  I have cancer”.   His words hung in the air, forceful and terrifying.  His girls, all four of us broke, we simply broke that night.  Our stronghold, our rock, what was going to happen?

I held on so tightly to his promises of being okay, his reassurances became my only breaths of air.  The night before Mom and Dad flew to Detroit for Dads surgery I bought my Dad a book.  The book was called “Why a Daughter Needs a Dad” and it had dozens of pages filled with reasons why a daughter does indeed need a father.  Under each reason, I matched it with a reason of my own and asked my Mom to give my Dad the book before he went into surgery.

“A daughter needs a Dad because without him she will have less in her life than she deserves”…. SHE WILL HAVE LESS IN HER LIFE THAN SHE DESERVES.  I found myself repeating these words over and over the day of his surgery, almost challenging God by questioning “you DO understand if my Dad is not alright I will have less in my life than I deserve, you get that right”?  And I felt He did, because from that day forward my Dad was cancer free and I couldn’t have been more relieved.  I sincerely thought we fought through our scariest moment as a family; that we triumphed over tragedy and became stronger and safer.

“I love you so much and without you I am not too sure what I would do or who I would be.  You will be fine because if you’re not fine than neither am I”.  This has always been my truth – it was my truth then and it is my truth now.  My Dad is not fine and neither am I….

HE AND I, ME AND HIM

He and I, me and him…

One more sleep and Quinn and I will be boarding a plane to the other side of the world.  In less than 48 hours we will be discovering Australia, amazed by it’s beauty, and eating up the newness of yet another beautiful land.

I wish I could say I was more excited for this trip, it’s crazy to think that I’m not.  I am blessed to be able to travel the world and see all of these magnificent places and yet this time it feels too soon, too unsettled to be going anywhere.  I have never been scared to go somewhere before in fact I have never experienced fear like this in my life, but indeed I am am wrapped up in worry and unable to clear these feelings from my mind.  I know I will be alright and I know I am strong enough to do this, I hope however that I am strong enough to want to do this.

Please keep Quinn and I in your prayers while we are away.  Ask we are able to soak up this beautiful blessing and leave behind the anxiety and stress.  Ask that I don’t have a straight panic attack on our 24 hour flight when an airplane is the last thing I want to be in, and ask that we enjoy ourselves and live in the moment rather than remain focused on everything else going on our worlds.  Please pray a million prayers for us and never underestimate what a gift it is to me when you are bringing us to God.

The picture of Quinn and I is of the last flight I/we have taken with my Dad.  I suppose maybe that has been another reason I have been apprehensive about this trip.   The last time I was in an airplane my father was the pilot.  I don’t want that “last” to go away.  I want to forever think that the last time I was above ground looking at all the beauty of this world, it was with my Dad.  I am scared to replace my “lasts” with my Dad, and I know tomorrow as I board that plane my last flight will never ever again be with my father – this is terribly sad for me.

But alas we are leaving, we are getting on that plane.  We are opening our hearts to new challenges and we are well aware there will be many blessings coming our way.  Wish us luck!

FINAL CHECKLIST

I day dream a lot lately.  I try my hardest to think about memories with my Dad but my head seems to be too full and I am falling short in this area.  Instead, my mind is now often consumed over what my Dads last flight looked like; how it went, what his thoughts were, what kind of view they had that day, and what he last said.  My Dad loved jumping in his plane and going through his ‘daily inspection’ list.  He was a perfectionist in his aircraft, him and his plane worked well together…they were a good team.  I loved getting into my Dad’s plane and listening to him go through his routine, I ate-up listening to the airwave commotion and hearing my Dad taxi off with a great deal of authority and confidence.  During one of my favourite day-dream experiences yet, I heard my father review what would be his final flight checklist.  This is what I heard:

Charlie Foxtrot Golf Lemma Alpha, we have taxied out to runway 1-9-2-0 and are holding short until clearance has been granted.
Departure is from Springbank Airport with a landing into Heaven at approximately 1:48pm, Friday September 24th 2010.
As always, Jesus will be flying as pilot in command and I will be sitting in co-pilot position.
We will be flying at unlimited altitude and beyond perfect weather has been cleared for the flight.
Our load is light today as we have left guilt, pain, and sorrow on the ground in order to leave enough room for ample blessings to join us on-board.
Daily inspection has been completed, there are no snags; this flight will go exactly as planned.
Seat-belts have been fastened and we are now prepared for the most amazing flight of our lives.

Roger that:
Charlie Foxtrot Golf Lemma Alpha, you are cleared for immediate takeoff…