One Year

It's hard to believe it's been an entire year.

It seems like only yesterday we coloured your hair pink, but in comparison it feels like it has been forever since I felt one of your hugs.  So much has happened in the year since you died, so many times I wanted to call you and tell you about my day.  It is an impulse that will always be there; you were always the first person I told about everything.

I still tell you, I just don't need a phone to do it.

I miss you, but you are always with me.  I channel you more and more as each day goes by--when I laugh, it is your laughter I hear; when I chat up the person next to me in line at the grocery store, it is you who is being friendly to a stranger; when one of my customers flirts with me on the phone it is you they are flirting with.

There have been some dark days this past year--it's been a tough road for this family--but we have made it through.  I know you would have been proud of me, of all of us.  We've lost so much, but gained a stronger bond with each other.  I know you'd want to be there to comfort us, but we find strength somehow just in the knowing.

Is it strange I still want to be a better person for you?  A better daughter, sister, niece, partner, friend.  I still strive to make you proud of me, even though you're no longer here to see my efforts.  I want to be that person you always believed I could be.

It's a work in progress.

Maybe it always will be.

Sad Day

I found out today that, 1) friends of mine had a miscarriage, 2) my brother's dog had a seizure and is in the doggie hospital and, 3) my friend Katie has pneumonia which is aggravated by her downstairs neighbour who won't stop smoking indoors which likely means Katie will have to move out of her new apartment (which would really suck because she just moved in and she loves that apartment.)

I'm done with today.

Trying to Get Into the Christmas Spirit

I decided to not put up a Christmas tree this year.  I've had a Christmas tree every single year since being on my own at age 19.  I bought my first tree for $9.99 at Canadian Tire--it was 3 feet tall and that first Christmas I decorated it with a homemade popcorn garland (which was entirely too much work and I never did that again!)  A couple of years ago, when we moved into our current apartment, I bought a larger tree since we had a bigger space that would make a larger tree fit better.  It was also purchased at Canadian Tire, cost $24.99 and was 4 1/2 feet tall.

The other reason I had to get a larger tree was I've accumulated a tonne of ornaments.  I try every year to get a "special" ornament and these have grown to a large number which just couldn't all fit on a 3 foot tree.  Then, last year my Mom gave me the family collection of "special" ornaments so now even my 4 foot tree seems to bend under the strain.

So why did I forgo the tree this year?  A few reasons--I am concerned about the potential danger to Jacques who is a quick little bugger and might do some damage to it or himself if I let my guard down for even a second; I won't be here at Christmas, I'll be in Huntsville with my brother and his family so I will get my fair share of tree there; My Honey isn't able to come home for Christmas this year since he's used up all his vacation time so he won't be here to appreciate it; and lastly, it's been a tough year with more losses than I care to name and I just don't feel like it.

Now I know some of you will think these excuses are just that--excuses.  You'll think it would be good for me to put up the tree, embrace the Christmas spirit and chase away the blues with tinsel and lights.  I appreciate your concern, but I'm here to tell you you're wrong.  There's nothing more depressing than putting up a tree by yourself that no one (besides yourself) will see and then taking it down by yourself after Christmas when the sugar-high has worn off and the reality of 3 more months of freezing cold and snow is setting in.

By not putting up a tree, I can worry less about my dog, I can get my fill of Christmas cheer back in Huntsville without the work of putting up or taking down the tree, and lastly I don't have to look at all those "special" ornaments that will flood me with bittersweet memories of Christmas's past with my Mom.  I'm just not ready for that.  Instead, I'll be making new memories with my adorable nieces and my wonderful brother and sister-in-law who really need me there this year to bring the festive and not the sad and depressed.

So, instead of having my own tree, I've installed a Photos of Christmas Trees widget on the right-hand side of my blog.  Here I go, bringing the festive!  You're welcome.

Merry Christmas!

Happy Birthday Mom

You would have been 64 today.  I remember a time when I thought 64 was "old"--now it represents a life cut short unfairly by an illness that has targeted too many of our friends and family.  As I write these words, your daughter-in-law's brother is barely clinging to life, the tumour in his head robbing him of him of himself, his sister of a brother, his parents of a son, his nieces of an uncle.

I miss you.  I knew I would and I'm not even surprised by the intensity, but living it is harder than I thought it would be.  I still listen to that voice message you left for me--I feel so lucky to have that connection, to be able to hear your distinctive voice so strong and happy.  I was worried I would forget--forget your face, your hugs, your laugh--but I can remember you so clearly it's like I just saw you yesterday.  But you've been gone 10 months now, and in some ways you've been gone even longer than that.

Happy Birthday, Mom.  Today I celebrate your memory and your legacy.  I celebrate your strength of character and strength of spirit.  I celebrate all that I have learned from you and all that you still have to teach me.

Today, I celebrate you.

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

Today I said goodbye to a trusted friend.

We had traveled down countless roads together, had even been in a few scrapes and jams.  And boy had we weathered our share of storms. But whenever I needed her she was always there for me and I knew I could count on her to never lose her cool.

She came into my life at a time when I really needed her, and today it was time for her to move on.  It was hard for me to admit that I didn't need her anymore, but as fate would have it, I knew someone who did.

That someone is My Honey's cousin and now she's the proud owner of my old Mazda.

Treat her well, Kath, and she'll never let you down.

Sisters

I spent a wonderful day Friday with my two beautiful nieces. They're growing up so fast, every time I see them it's like meeting new people. Two-and-a-half year old Rylie is a baby no more and she's talking up a storm. She follows her older sister around everywhere, copying her every move. Amazingly, they get along wonderfully and Hayden is enjoying her role as big sister and teacher. I'm sure my brother and sister-in-law hope this will never change, but of course it will and before we know it they'll be fighting like cats and dogs. But for now we'll enjoy the peace and joy of watching them explore the world together in sisterly love and companionship.

Memories

Family and friends gathered yesterday in Huntsville to honour a wonderful friend, partner, sister, mother and grandmother. It was a beautiful, bright and cold sunny day--perfect Ontario winter weather. The numbers were impressive--at least 100 people came to share their stories and express their gratitude at having known a woman who handled life and death with grace and courage.

I got the short straw and therefore had to speak first. This is the speech I gave on Saturday at my Mom's memorial:

"I was worried about the weather being bad today, but I should have known better--there’s no way Mom would have allowed that to happen on “her day.” I joke, but when I was a kid I was firmly convinced my Mom controlled the universe. She knew things--I could get away with nothing. Now of course I know that’s because whatever my imagination could come up with she’d already thought of herself because she was diabolical. But at the time it was like she was this all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful being.

Maybe it’s because of that perception of her that I didn’t really take her first breast cancer scare back in 1993 all that seriously--to me, she was bullet-proof. That, and the fact that I was so busy in my first year of university experiencing my first taste of life as an adult and the all freedoms and adventures that come with that and didn‘t have time to worry about something that there was no way she could actually die of. Did I mention I was a selfish, self-absorbed brat who took for granted that life would always turn out the way I thought it should? The universe reinforced that perception when she did in fact successfully beat her cancer and life returned to normal.

It would take a long time for the realization that I almost lost her to fully sink in. I really became an adult in that moment--when I realized my Mom was a mere mortal with faults and guilts; that the laws of physics did apply to her and that she wouldn’t be around for ever. The idea of living without her was crippling--I realized how special and important she was and that realization changed our relationship. We never talked about it, but I knew she recognized something had changed between us--what had changed was I now realized her full worth and value while at the same time I no longer put her on a pedestal, holding her and, by extension myself, to a standard neither one of us could ever have achieved.

When her cancer came back, we were all shocked. This wasn’t supposed to happen--she was cured. She’d patiently journeyed though that 10 year window and had made it to the other side where the chances of a reoccurrence were supposed to be smaller than chances of being killed in a car accident. Why was this happening? Surely she would beat this again. It didn’t take long for me to realize this time, things were different. Very early on I accepted that she was going to die. She tricked us there for a while--she spent an entire year looking healthier than anyone I’d ever known!

I am so thankful for those 72 weeks of successful treatment--she got to enjoy a relationship with my two nieces, Hayden and my Mom’s namesake Rylie Glorianna, who was conceived after she was diagnosed! She crammed so much life into those 72 weeks. And I soaked up her presence in my life up like a sponge. I got a voicemail from her on her 62nd birthday thanking me for my gift to her. She sounded so healthy, so vibrant, so like my Mom. I saved that message--I still have it. I listen to it every week when the time comes for me to save it again.

I’m very glad I chose to take 3 months off work to be with her on the final leg of her journey. We talked about things that we never would have talked about under a different set of circumstances. I can’t overstate how important that time was for me--it helped me to come to terms with her death and it ensured I had no regrets over things left unspoken. So few people have that opportunity to let someone know much they matter, how much they will be missed. The day before she died she told me she loved me and was proud of me, and I told her I loved her and I was proud of her. We never meant it more than we did right then.

Our mother lived life on her own terms and she died on her own terms. Make no mistake--the day she died was no accident: she didn’t want to die at Christmas, she didn’t die at Christmas; she didn’t want to die alone, she didn’t die alone; she didn’t want to die in pain, suffering the indignities that accompany long term illness, she died peacefully, with her dignity and her faculties intact.

I’ve been reading this web comic recently--it’s called “Something Positive.“ In it, one of the characters said something that really stuck with me. He said, “it’s not what happens to you that people will remember you for, it’s what you did with it.” Our Mom will be remembered not for having had cancer, but for how she lived with it--how she never lost her positivity, her courage or her strength. It may be what ended her life, but she beat cancer. She never defined herself by it. It took her body but not her spirit."

Thanks to everyone who came out and to those who were there in thought and spirit. It was the perfect day and the perfect send-off.

A Light Has Gone Out in the World

My Mom's long, courageous battle with cancer finally ended at about 9:30am on Monday, January 18th. My brother and step-father were with her when she peacefully took her last breath. I was able to see her on Saturday and Sunday and I'm so glad of that--she was so tired of fighting and I knew it would be the last time I would see her alive.


My Mom has been the guiding force in my life for as long as I can remember. Her personality was larger than life and she had a presence that couldn't be ignored. For a long time I was intimidated by that, I felt I could never measure up to her example. I feared her and loved her in equal parts. We had many rocky periods over the years, but she was always proud of me and never withheld her love and support. As an adult I grew a very close bond with her and learned to embrace those things we had in common and not be afraid what our similarities and differences may imply. I stopped seeing her in black and white and realized we're all just human and do the best we can with what we have.

She touched the lives of so many people--I don't think she ever realized how much of an impact she really had on all of us. I've never met anyone like her and I know I never will again.

I love you, Mom. I miss you more than mere words can convey.

Taking Stock

To say this year has been difficult is an understatement of infinite proportions. It started with a painful whimper and went downhill from there. Sitting here recalling all the shit I've witnessed over the last 365 days is depressing but also weirdly empowering. I've said it before and I'll say it again: you don't know how strong you are until you're tested. This year has been quite the test.

The Defeats:

-losing my first karaoke contest

-my Mom's near-death morphine overdose at the hands of health care professionals

-serious upheaval at work, followed by major career soul-searching

-my stepfather's near heart attack followed by quadruple bypass surgery

-the tragic death of a young co-worker by a hit-and-run driver (who's still at large)

-recurring lower back issues

-my Mom's continuing decline culminating in a broken arm, broken leg and finally admission to palliative care

-the sudden passing of my father-in-law

-my brother-in-law's brain cancer came back after 10 years

-my parent's dog, Murphy, was run over by a car and killed

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, we can remember the many happy events of the past year.

The Victories:

-I celebrated my first anniversary as a blogger

-Holy crap! I was in a karaoke contest!

-I got to see a fabulous Andy Warhol exhibit

-I got in touch with my inner bob

-I was chosen to be a contributor to a newsletter at work

-I joined a band

-my step-father made a full and speedy recovery from his quadruple bypass surgery

-I had the opportunity to take 3 months off work to spend with my Mom, sharing her journey with cancer and in the process growing a strong bond with my nieces

-we gave The Fonz the finger

-my Mom's story helped raise money for a palliative care home in Huntsville, finally making it a reality

-Kiki and Randy got married

-my Mom made it to her 63rd birthday and was ushered into the 21st century

-I started a new hobby and a new blog

-I celebrated Christmas with my whole family, including our new puppy, Neo

In spite of all the adversity I've faced this past year, I am ultimately incredibly lucky; lucky to have wonderful friends and family, a good job, a loving and supportive partner, an affectionate (if not a little crazy) cat, and a strong and miraculous mother who continues to amaze us every day. I can't linger on the negative--I choose to embrace the positive and look forward to the new wonders and joys I will face in the new year. The challenges I face will undoubtedly compare to or even surpass what I've already seen, but I know now that out of negatives come positives that make the negatives seem worth it in the end. So I will go forward, happy in the knowledge that my journey is far from over and holds surprises beyond imagination.

Lucky Doesn't Even Begin To Cover It

The weather held and I had the good fortune to enjoy a wonderful, whirlwind visit back home for Christmas. My amazing mother hung in there for yet another milestone--who would have believed back in August when we were told she might have 3 weeks to live that she'd be opening presents with her family on Christmas Day?! Best. Christmas present. Ever.

My other wonderful gift this year is My Honey flying back on Christmas Day for a week-long visit. Woo Hoo! We went straight from the airport to The Kenly's for an absolutely fantastic Christmas dinner--ham and turkey with all the trimmings including homemade cranberry sauce. Mmmmm! I think I'm still full...

I also was introduced to a new family member--my step-father's new dog, Neo. He's a cutie patootie and just what Fred needs. I'm sure they'll be wonderful for each other.

I hope all of you had a wonderful and life-affirming Christmas, and that all your Christmas wishes came true--mine certainly did!

Seriously Losing My Shit

Do you realize Christmas is less than a week away!?

HOLY CRAP!!!

How did this happen? I stopped paying attention for one second and BAM! WTF?

I do this every year--I wait until the last minute (and by "wait" I mean I procrastinate) to do my shopping and then freak out when I realize how much shopping I have to do in far too little time. And then I come to the realization that if I go to the mall I'll probably kill somebody. Because I hate the mall. With a passion like that of a million hot, burning suns.

So I try to come up with creative places to shop that don't involve me getting all stabby on the five teenage girls walking abreast while texting down the mall corridor or the person carrying too many bags filled with sharp, hard objects who suddenly and without warning changes direction right in front of me and takes me out at the kneecaps. You can assume that since you don't hear any stories of a woman going on a bloody, murderous rampage the weekend before Christmas that I am usually successful.

I'm a lucky person--opportunities just seem to present themselves to me on a silver platter on a pretty reliable basis. Just when a need becomes urgent, the solution is dropped into my lap (figuratively, not literally...usually). Anyway, yesterday there was a flyer posted in the elevator of my building advising that a few of the residents will be holding a sale of their knitted and crocheted creations today and these creations are rumored to include kids sweaters, mitts, scarves and toques. Hmmmm, kid's sweaters you say? Toques? There just happen to be two adorable nieces on my Christmas list who could probably use a couple of sweaters and toques since they're covered in about a meter of snow right now (literally, not figuratively--well, their house is covered).

So once again disaster is averted and I'll come through the holidays unscathed and without a criminal record. Peace on Earth.

And I mean that!

Murphy

I found out today that my parent's dog was hit by a car yesterday morning and was killed. My step-father is absolutely devastated--Murphy was his constant companion and provided him with much comfort after my Mom had to go into the hospital and Fred found himself alone in the house. Also, a large part of his successful recovery from his quadruple bypass last June was having to get out and walk the dog twice a day. I'm worried that not having Murphy to look after is going to throw Fred into a downward spiral--he's already struggling with my Mom's situation and this is a set-back he may not recover from.

My Mom seems to be handling it a little better, although I haven't actually spoken to her directly--email correspondence is often lacking when it comes to such emotional circumstances. I'm afraid it hasn't really sunken in yet and that over the next few days the full brunt of the tragedy will hit her and she'll be blindsided by it.

When is this shit-storm going to be over? When will we have a reprieve from this incessant barrage of grief and heartache? It just keeps coming and coming; just when you think you've started to recover from the last one you're hit with the next. I've gotten to the point now where I'm not asking "Why us?" Now I'm terrified of "What next?"

The Internet May Never Recover

Thanks to the efforts of David at Huntsville Online, my Mom now has a laptop at her disposal to help her keep in touch with the world outside of her hospital room. David felt it was cruel and unusual punishment to force her to live without the interwebs, but the irony here is my Mom has never even had a personal email address let alone an Internet connection in her home!

She isn't exactly technophobic--although she's the only person I know who honestly and truly has never even tried to figure out how to set the time on her VCR--it's more like technology has never been a priority in her life. My Mom is a letter writer (you remember those people?) not an emailer; she calls you on the phone instead of sending an IM; she will never understand the concept behind Twitter or Facebook or blogging. She's an anachronism--she doesn't belong "now."

Despite this, she does seem pretty excited about this new window that's being opened for her. Maybe it's the meds, but she seems not to be intimidated at all by the scary interwebs. I hope she gets something out of it, but even more I hope the interwebs learns something from her.

If you'd like to send along emails of encouragement, she can be reached at gloriasjourney@gmail.com.

Decision

I've decided to go back to work. It was not an easy decision, and I'm still not sure it's the right decision, but it's the one I've made. One week from this coming Monday I'll be sitting at my desk answering the thousands of emails I've received over the course of the last three months.

There were many reasons behind this decision: My Honey and I are hemorrhaging money right now and I feel it's my responsibility to stop leaching and resume contributing; I think it'll be good for me to get some structure back in my life; my Mom really thinks I should go back.

The last one might surprise you, but it's typical of my Mom--she feels guilty that she's keeping me from "getting on with my life" and earning an income. She hung on a lot longer than any of us expected and I think she has a little guilt about that, too. My Mom doesn't like to be a 'burden' and sometimes feels like we resent the fact she's still alive and hasn't died quickly enough. Of course this is completely insane and I'd like to blame the morphine for her skewed view of reality, but sadly she's always been this way.

To be honest I have no desire whatsoever to go back to work. I've so valued these last few months spent with my Mom and the rest of my family--it saddens and worries me to leave that cradle of comfort and strength. I'll try and come up to visit as many weekends as possible and hopefully that will be enough for all of us. I also hope that I'll be able to focus on my job and give my employer the quality of work they expect and deserve. They've been so understanding through this whole thing, I really want to do a good job for them and not be distracted by things outside of my control. It's going to be hard--I think about my Mom all the time.

Only time will tell if I've done the right thing.

Enough Already

Just when my family could really use some good news, we get kicked again. My sister-in-law's brother, Richie, suffered from a brain tumour many years ago when he was a teenager. He had an operation and radiation and was deemed "cured" however he was left with partial paralysis and other health issues. Now in his late twenties, it seems the cancer has returned in the exact same spot.

It was discovered only last week after his doctors became concerned enough about bleeding on his brain to perform an MRI. But before the results of the MRI were available he began vomiting and was very lethargic to the point of being almost unresponsive. His parents took him to the hospital in Huntsville and then he was rushed by ambulance to Toronto where he is undergoing surgery to remove the tumour as I write this. We don't know what shape he will be in when he gets out of surgery; we don't know how much of the tumour they'll be able to remove. We're all very scared and feel very powerless.

My heart goes out to Ritchie and his family. Having to go through this once was almost unbearable--I'm not sure how they're going to get through it again. I adore Ritchie--he has an awesome sense of humour and is so incredibly positive, I don't think I've ever seen him in a bad mood. Getting through the surgery is only the first step--since he's already had radiation once he likely won't be able to have it again. He'll probably have to have chemotherapy to treat the cancer this time around. I've seen what chemo can do and I wouldn't wish it on my worse enemy. He's gonna need all the positivity he can muster over the next while.

How much more are we going to have to endure? Just when I think my family can't take any more bad news, more of it comes--My Honey's aunt recently had an MRI to help solve the mystery of her own health problems, and her daughter is facing a potential health crisis as well. My own aunt has ridiculously high blood pressure and I'm very worried about her--she hasn't done a very good job of taking care of herself and she's paying the price now when she can least afford to. There's just too much to deal with all at once and none of us knows how to handle it.

I've forgotten what if feels like to not have knots of anxiety in my stomach. I just want life to be normal again. I want to wake up from this bad dream.

***UPDATE***

Got word from my brother that Richie came through the operation with flying colours! They managed to get most of the tumour, which is great news. So very relieved, I can't even tell you :)

You Can't Keep a Good Woman Down

My Mom is turning 63 on Saturday--it goes without saying we never thought she'd make it--and in celebration she has dyed her hair pink. Not coincidentally, pink is also the colour of Breast Cancer Awareness. My Mom was never a person to do things subtly.

Happy Birthday Mom! I'm proud of you and I love you.

Drained

I can't think too much about what my life has been over the last couple of weeks, and will continue to be for the next several, because it tires me out. I no longer think--I just "do". So much has to be done, so many commitments to people have to be kept, so much I need to do for my own self and yet, so little time. Why does it all have to come at once? Any one of these things on their own would be stressful and trying enough--why do we have to deal with them all at the same time?

It's at times like this, I suppose, that you test and learn the limits of your own endurance. We are infinitely capable; or at least far more capable than we give ourselves credit for. If I had known what was coming, I don't think I would have been able to deal with it as well. I believe that if I had known, I would have decided I wasn't strong enough to handle it and wouldn't have even tried. By having it sprung on me with no time to assess my ability to make it all happen, I've had to just jump in and do it--no time to ask myself if I'm up to the challenge.

I don't want to give you the impression I'm doing this all on my own. I have had all the resources I need to rise to these challenges. I'm so grateful to my employer for allowing me to extend my leave of absence. I'm grateful to my friends who have been such a support. I'm grateful for my Mom who has encouraged me to be with My Honey in spite of her own illness and needs.

I am especially grateful for My Honey. He has still managed to provide me with support in his own time of need. When he asks me, "How are you doing?" I know he really means it. How can this man who just lost his father still have the emotional energy to care so much about my well-being? I can only hope I will have the same concern and compassion for him when I'm consumed with grief over my Mom's death. He's incredible and continues to amaze me every day.

Mourning

A week ago today, My Honey got the phone call we all dread--his father had suddenly and unexpectedly passed away. Incredibly (and luckily), My Honey was home with me when he got the call instead of being alone in California. What has followed has been a roller-coaster ride of emotions and surprisingly organized, from meeting with the funeral home director to the visitation to the funeral to meeting with the lawyer to being on the verge of filing for probate.

My Honey's dad never threw anything out. This has been a blessing and a curse. Fortunately, he was far more organized than I ever gave him credit for, so we have (so far) been able to locate all the vital documents we've needed to locate, and in a timely manner. We found a will, we found bank statements, we found tax assessments on his two properties, we figured out who his insurance broker was, we (finally!) found the mail key...it's like a scavenger hunt with a partially complete list of items.

I can't help but draw comparisons between My Honey's experience in dealing with his dad's affairs and what mine will be like when the time comes for me and my brother to deal with my mom's. In the majority of ways, the experiences are completely opposite: she's already arranged and paid for her cremation; she has organized her finances down to the last minute detail; I know who her lawyer and accountant are; we don't have to dispose of any assets because her husband will continue to live in the house. By contrast, My Honey has to make some very important decisions about what to do with the two houses he now owns in a northern Ontario city several thousand kilometers from his current residence.

One thing these two people will have in common in death is that they will have touched the lives of countless people in ways one only learns about after their passing. Hearing the stories this week about My Honey's dad has been wonderful and insightful. You know a person usually only in one or two slices of their life--when they die you get the opportunity to connect with people from the other slices and see that person in a whole new way. This is what I look forward to when my mom has gone--hearing people's stories about her and knowing that she had an impact on so many people in such a diversity of ways.

My grieving process for my mom started 3 years ago; My Honey's started 7 days ago. In spite of this, his strength and desire to do what was right for his dad have humbled and impressed me. I am also impressed by his family and how they have deferred to him on nearly every decision and gave him the support he needed without hijacking the proceeding to pursue their own agendas or further the strife that has existed within the family for the last several years. Again, I didn't give enough credit.

My Honey has a monumental task ahead of him, and I hope and plan to be there for him every step of the way. I have the utmost confidence in him and his ability to make the right decisions for himself because he knows who he is and what he needs and wants to get out of this tragedy. He said to me the other day, "When you have a child the only certainty is that there will be one of two outcomes--either he will mourn you or you will mourn him." In some respects, I think My Honey has been preparing for this his whole life.

Gloria's Story

Please click on this link and read this article about my Mom, written by her family doctor. The article also includes a letter my Mom wrote to the local paper about Hospice Huntsville and their plan to build a palliative home in Huntsville.

I'm so thankful to Dr. Trenholm and David Harris at Huntsville Online for helping to tell my Mom's story. Her story is an important one, not because it is unique but because it is so heartbreakingly common.

I am so proud of my Mother and her indomitable spirit. I cherish these last few weeks we have together and I am incredibly grateful for this opportunity to walk by her side on her final journey. It has been a wonderful gift for all of us.

Tinsletown Comes to Our Town

A very unexpected thing is happening in my parent's town--"The Fonz" is filming a movie. That's right, just down the street from their house Henry Winkler is chewing the scenery along with Graham Greene some guy named DJ Qualls whom I've never heard of but is apparently pretty famous. The town is obviously excited and the shoot is attracting large (by small town standards) crowds who are hoping to catch a glimpse of our favourite, cuddly little rebel.



But the story doesn't end there--a little over a month ago, my parents were approached by the production company to use their house as a main location for the shoot. The woman (whose name escapes me at the moment) fed them some line about how the director/writer grew up in a house just like theirs,* that they loved what they've done with the landscaping, yadda yadda yadda. Long story short, turns out they were only going to offer my parents $200 for what could have been multiple days of shooting which could have resulted in untold damage to the property and premises. Now, we may be small town, but we're not stupid. Despite initial excitement, the $200 up for grabs just didn't justify the potential disaster this could have become.

Don't worry! Our failure to cooperate in no way disrupted or derailed the filming of what is surely to become a Canadian independent film classic. Amazingly there is another brick bungalow in town that worked in a pinch and I'm sure the film crew is down there as we speak turning that guy's front lawn into mud and hoping to hell that all these hicks in Hicksville will (golly gee!) be honoured to let them drag their Klieg lights and cables all over their hard-earned homes for the princely sum of 200 bucks (which is pretty much all an independent film can afford to pay for a location) and the privilege of basking in the glow of Hollywood glamour.

*This house doesn't belong to either my parents or Thomas Michael, but as you can see it is hardly unique. (My parent's house is prettier though!)