The ones that love us.

Product: Simple Stories: pattern papers and stickers, Bo Bunny & Crate Paper: alphas, Studio Calico: doily, American Crafts: "love"

This layout was created for Creative Scrapbooker and published in their Summer 2016 issue. I am so grateful that I was asked to contribute for this issue and even more grateful that they keep asking. The call for this page was "layout with movie quote". I used a quote from Harry Potter from Sirius Black that really resonated with me. This is the first photo, the first page that I created of my Dad since his passing. It was the first time I could even think about it. When I got my issue I just held the page open and cried. 

Creative Scrapbooker, formerly known as Canadian Scrapbooker but they now have print available in the USA... and that's freakin' awesome!

You can find my work on page 55, I got the whole page!!! 

You can also see 2 cards I designed on page 121.

One Year

Today marks the one year of my Dad's passing. Not a day has gone by where I haven't thought of him. I still ask myself to wake up. I still sit in disbelief that this has happened. 

It has a been a very long year and at the same time I can not believe that it is this day again. I have spent the last year riding a wave of calm and a wave of pain. I have had countless hours hearing the phone call over and over again in my head. I have heard over & over again every voice I spoke to while I searched for him in the emergency room and police station in Ft. Mac Murray. Knowing the truth despite no one telling me. I knew by the sound of their voices and by the way they called me sweet heart. I knew. I finally heard the words I prayed I wouldn't. And then I had to phone my Mom. 

I have dreaded every holiday, every birthday, every trip back home. I have wished I could move far away so I could hide from all the pain and broken hearts. I asked Cory multiple times if there was a way for him to get transferred. Running away seemed like a good idea. Still does some days. 

I encourage Anna to talk about him. She tries not to and I came to realize it was because of me. Because I cry. So I now make sure to talk about him with her and tell her about how she is like him or how funny he was or how much he loved her. I tell her to talk to him, that he can hear her. The more I talk the easier it gets and then more fun, funny and joyful things come to memory. She laughs and asks me to tell her my stories again and again. 

I am not sure what comes next, friends that have been down this road before tell me that the pain never goes away but that it doesn't always hurt so bad. I have had those days and they are a blessing. I count myself lucky that I love someone so much that I feel this type of pain. Not everyone can love like that. I don't think I will ever understand why it happened when it did. 60 is so young. He had so much more to do and so much more love to give. 

I miss my Dad terribly. I wish I could have just one more conversation where I drove him crazy with my thoughts on things.  Or watch him sing & dance in the kitchen just one more time. Or hear him loose his temper just one more time and then I could laugh at him and make fun of him one more time (mostly because I have that same hot temper). Or take one more poke in the rib cage from him. There are so many things. 

The only advice that I can offer is to take pictures, take a lot of them. Make a point to take video, I scour my computer looking for a video where I can hear him. You will never regret those 2 things. I also want you to tell your family that you love them. Tell them that you're proud of them. You may feel vulnerable and scared but I want you to do it despite that. I want you to know they might not say it back, and that will hurt but you will know that you did everything you could do to put your love out there and trust me, it feels good. 

Today I will do my best to hold my memories close and smile at his life and his love. 

Forward Momentum

Where do I start? 

Getting in here to write feels daunting.

 I feel like I have too much to say and nothing to say all at the same time.

I would tell someone else to just start. Pick something. Share a story. Share a picture. Share inspiration. Just start.

I will take my own advice and share this picture and start there. 

This fabulous family picture is from Thanksgiving. It took quite a few attempts but the end result is worth it. We all look good, we're all smiling and for the most part we are looking at the camera. It's hard however to look at  this photo without getting a lump in my throat. It's hard to look without staring at the missing person. I feel like there is a giant sign that hangs above and says "Dad should be here!" with an arrow pointing down.

We took a family photo at Christmas, like we always do, I couldn't even look at it. When it was given to me I turned it over, face down and put it somewhere. I have no idea where. I put it somewhere that didn't matter because I didn't want to see or accept that this is how our photos will look from now on. One man down. 

I felt a little lighter about this one. I love it. It's beautiful. Each one of these faces loved Dad.  Each one had a piece of their heart taken that day. Each of these faces miss him. When I see this photo I am so proud of these faces, including my own. Proud because we have woken up every day and moved forward. Whether it was many steps or just one, the momentum was forward.  When we feel the weight of grief push us to our knees we can all be proud that we stood back up on wobbly legs and pushed forward. It is all so raw still. It still stings. It still makes no sense, I suspect it never will. However,  I take comfort in seeing him in our smiles. And hearing him in our stories. And feeling him in the air around me. 

I miss you Dad. 

Saying Goodbye

Last Saturday my family gathered to say goodbye to my Grandpa. He past away on April 24 at the age of 92. He lived a long life that was full of trials I can't imagine but it was also full of so much happiness & so much love. He immigrated from Poland as a very young boy, he grew up & worked his finger to the bone. Giving and giving, helping to be a part of building our province. He worked hard until he could no longer give anymore. He married my Grandma almost 60 years ago, how amazing is that. 60 years. He raised 5 daughters, most likely the hardest work of his life. He had 10 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren. 

Loosing him was hard, I cried and cried for loss. For death. For no more second chances. For no more "I should go before it's too late" trips. Death is final. I cried hard for my Dad, this all felt too soon, too much to deal with. I cried hard for my Mom, who too has no father now. 

As they opened the doors to carry my Grandpa to the hearse, it rained the prettiest rain. They stepped outside and the rain stopped. A good friend reminded me once that this rain is the angels sharing your grief. I smiled when I saw the rain. At the grave side service I was struck by a moment that was absolutely beautiful. The sky was black, all around us were black clouds that promised rain. There was a part in the center of those black clouds that allowed the sun to shine down onto us. As we stood there placing roses on his casket the warmth from the sun could be felt on our backs.  It shone like that until we all walked away, then the clouds closed and the rain came. I smiled again and said goodbye. 

Spring Break 2015

We are back to our routine today, work & school. Spring break was full and went by too fast. We celebrated Easter weekend back home at my parents, was nice and it was hard. You can feel Dad's absence in the air. I can not begin to imagine the pain my mom feels but I am so very proud of her, she is so strong. 

This past week we celebrated, played, remembered, laughed, cried, ate too much, stayed up late & slept in. I hope everyone had a wonderful break, here's a peak into ours...

Play dates.

Build-A-Bear

First haircut.

Celebrating this guy's birthday.

Easter basket goodies.

Giggles.

Cuddles. 

Hunting for "puffy" willows.

Crafting.

Finding eggs.

He is in my heart.

I wanted to share a story here that I shared yesterday on my Instagram account. I shared it because it spoke to a piece of my heart that needs healing, that needs some sense of understanding. My story seemed to resonate with my followers and touch them as it did me.

Today my Dad has been gone for 4 months. 4 heartbreaking months. I struggle to understand, how am I suppose to explain to Anna, an innocent 4 year old, when I don't understand this all myself. Some days wrapping my head around his absence is too much, I just can't believe it. I just want to wake up from a really terrible dream. 

I purchased this globe yesterday so that I could spray paint it gold. When we got it home Anna & I started talking about how amazing our planet is, who lives where, what the oceans are, etc. She asked all kinds of questions and kept saying "Wow". 

She then asked me where Heaven was.

I froze and immediately started to cry.

I told her Heaven wasn't a place on the Earth. That we couldn't go there. I then realized I needed to try and make sense of that for her. I talk about Heaven all the time, I talk about it like it's a place, Papa went to Heaven. To her, if Papa went to Heaven then we should be able to go see him.

She asked where it was then.

I walked her to the window and pointed to the sky. 

Heaven is up there somewhere. Somewhere up there, far away with the moon & the stars & the sun. We all see the same ones. They are the same moon & stars & sun that Papa sees from Heaven. That we can't go see Papa but that he can come see us in our dreams.

She looked at me as I spoke through tears and told me not to worry. 

Don't worry. I keep Papa in my heart. That's where he is.

And just like that she was off to go play. 

My heart is broken right now and I struggle to see inside it. I am put together on the outside but inside I am raw.

I speak to the stars constantly, I feel a sense of peace when I look up to them. I feel closer to him, that maybe he is there with me as I talk to him and take in the night sky. 

Yesterday I was left at the window sobbing realizing that maybe she is the one teaching me and not the other way around.

Finding Comfort on Dark Days

I have had a really hard week. Or maybe it's weeks, this one was just extra hard. Today is the 6th. My Dad has been gone for 3 months. It's not uncommon for me to go stretches like that without seeing him. Or talking to him. Except now I won't. Ever. And that keeps hitting my like a powerful wave. Knocking me down. Leaving me a puddle on the floor begging for this all to be a bad dream. I do believe that someday, at the end of our lives we will all be reunited, but in this life I find no comfort in that (for now). I woke up on that day and poof, he was gone. No word, no warning, no goodbye. No answers. No closure. I then find myself angry, like someone stole from me and in a way I guess I was stolen from.

I am writing this post because it helps me and I then think "maybe it's helping someone else", not helping by cheering them up with my wit and awesomeness ;) but by letting someone know they're not alone. I know I can't be alone. That someone felt this way before me and that they're ok, they're thriving, they're joyful more than they are sad. That is what gives me comfort. Knowing that one day I won't feel so lost.

For now I will do my best everyday to be joyful, to shine, to let the waves knock me down when they come. I will pray for the strength to get back up, to move forward and honor my Dad's wonderful, cheeky, silly, beautiful life.

(image sourced from Pinterest)

Let's do coffee...

Let's set the tone for this post, imagine we're in a trendy coffee shop, sitting down in cozy plush chairs with our feet tucked under our bums, there is beautiful, cheerful music is playing in the background, we're relaxed & comfortable, we're happy to see each other. In each of our hands is a big mug, we're holding on with both hands, the heat between our hands makes us sink even deeper into our chairs. We take the first sips of our favourite drink and... Mmmm... they made it perfectly, just like we knew they would. We're happy. You ask the inevitable question... How are you doing? I begin to talk...

I'm ok. I realise this is a loaded word but I am... I am ok. I have some really great days and then some really bad ones. The kind where I barely make it off the couch or eat or notice the world goes on around me. And that is ok. I am coming to terms with the fact that my grief will never go away. It never ends. I will just learn to live with it. I will never be the same, I can't be. A part of me died along with my Dad. I will shape & build a new me. A new me who is kinder, more caring and more compassionate. A new me who is stronger and braver for having faced such loss. For having faced it and continued to put one foot in front of the other. For getting back up when my knees give out and I think I might not be able to catch my breath. I will never be done with this grief, the spaces of pure sadness and desperation will grow wider but they won't go away. I will burst into tears or completely zone out and you'll wonder what is wrong but it will be the grief. You still need to ask, you need to ask with patience & compassion. You need to ask so that I can tell you I feel empty today so that I don't have to carry that all on my own.

Our Christmas was ok. It was hard, really hard but we did it. We put up trees, we went shopping, we wrapped presents. We made a beautiful, delicious dinner and we ate it beside the photo of Dad in "his" chair. I made breakfast without him on Christmas Day and I cried. I tried to remember the year before where we worked along side each other. We took our family photo without him and I held my breath as we set up. We also smiled and laughed and talked about him. We opened gifts, watched more episodes of Border Patrol that I care to admit and played Lego. We did it. We did Christmas and I am so proud of us. Wherever he is I know he looked in and was proud too. I will admit though that I could not wait for the holidays to be over! I felt like a rock was lifted off my shoulders when everything was said and done.

New Years. Wow did New Year's Eve catch me off guard. I was excited for it, we went into St. Albert for dinner at Karen's, tobogganing and then to fireworks. The dinner was delicious, the weather was perfect for being outside & the fireworks were amazing. The first firework went off and I felt like I was hit by a bat. I lost my breath. I was saying goodbye to 2014, the year my Dad past away and I then realize 2015 meant the first year without him. I sobbed. I sat by myself in the snow and watched these beautiful fireworks and I sobbed. We went home after and I cried. Cried so hard. The hardest I have cried since this all began and then I went to bed. I woke up on January first and started thinking about how I was going to move forward, how was I going to shine and how I could help myself.

We're headed to Jasper soon for a little getaway and I am so very excited! I have never been in the winter. Imagine how beautiful it will be!

I have been scrapbooking for myself and it feels soooo good! I have been trying to organise my office so it makes sense and makes being in there fun, exciting and most importantly- makes it inspiring. I have been thinking about teaching at the store and I just don't want to. I can't quite put my finger on it but I don't want to. I have been trying to figure out where I want to go next and if I really don't want to teach.

I have been reading blogs and magazines that have women authors and they talk about creating tribes. Having a tribe: a group of women that gather, share, celebrate, laugh, cry, support, encourage. I thought- YES, and I emailed a group of ladies I spend time with and set forth on creating our own little tribe.

I have been getting up each morning and doing yoga and then setting my intentions for the day. To be joyful, to be kind and patient to myself and to others. To strive for progress over completion and perfection. To shine. It has truly changed my energy and affected my day.

Oh... look at the time. I have to get to playschool and pick up Anna. Thank you so much for listening, for being here and supporting me. It means the world, it truly does. I am grateful.
xoxo

Body Art with Ink

Last Tuesday I went to meet with Steve at Kamakazi Ink to get a new tattoo. This is my fourth but it is the biggest and the one that holds the most meaning for me. This design was created as a tribute to my Dad. I knew exactly what I wanted and Steve brought it to life. My Dad hunted, my parents house has many mounts a few sets of antlers that are beautiful and that he was proud of. The antlers were a must in my design. The roses are the flower for June, that was his birth month so I knew they would be perfect as the centre. I sent Steve images of what I liked and had in mind, explained that I wanted it to be feminine and beautiful and he worked his magic. 

I love it, it is way bigger than I had imagined but after I saw the stencil on my arm I knew that I wanted it that big. It took just over 2 hours and for the most part the pain was pretty minimal. I only winced a few times. It is healing great... other than the being super itchy part. 

I can't say thank you or recommend Steve enough. 

Searching for Moments of Peace

source

It is hard to believe how fast a month goes by. It is still sinking in that this really is happening, that my Dad is gone and not ever coming back. There are hard days, wow are there hard days. The good days and moments of pure happiness are becoming more visible to me and I am so grateful for that. There are moments that I just stop and loose my breath. I suspect this will go on for a long, long time.

Christmas is coming, coming fast. I am excited because of Anna but there are plenty of moments of anger, anger that our lives will never be the same. That we are missing a huge part of our energy and dynamic. Anger and sadness that there will forever be an emptiness in our holidays and lives. I know that this is all part of the "process" but I find I get angry at the anger. What a mess.

I look for him, I look for him everywhere. I find that certain things catch my attention and when they do I feel a peace. I smile and say Hi Dad. Sometimes I cry and sometimes I just keep on smiling. There is just an emptiness, one I can't quite describe. Finding these small moments is such a blessing & I pray for them everyday. They help deal with that emptiness and I'll take all the help I can get.

The Ebb & Flow

I went back to work on Friday. It was awful. I felt so overwhelmed. Like the walls were closing in on me. Customers didn't know about my Dad, I knew that that would be the case. I guess I just hoped everyone would know so that I wouldn't have to talk about it. Or that people wouldn't complain about things that just didn't matter to me. That I wouldn't have to pretend to be OK when all I wanted to to was scream. Everyone just went on with their life when mine came to a crashing halt. That is difficult to accept. That life will and must go on. Everyone is just "themselves" but not me,  I am a different person on a day to day basis. I am sad and indifferent about many things. I have a different outlook I am numb. But thankfully I am also still funny, I can find beautiful things to smile about, I can laugh. Then a wave of grief crashes into me and I am back to the hard stuff. I can see that there will be an ebb & flow to this but I am struggling. There are days when I am so exhausted by all of it I can barely form thoughts. Friday was one of those days and I wasn't sure what to expect at work. I got in my car at the end of the night and burst. All the emotion I bottled up at work came flooding out. I cried the whole way home. I yelled in my car. I got into bed and crashed. 

Then I hosted my Project Life crop on Saturday night and it was completely the opposite. I was ok, I had a good time. I kept busy to keep my thoughts at bay. I spoke to friends about my Dad and didn't break down. I got hugs and sweet wishes. I even made a new friend. I can say that I was sick to my stomach to go to that shift but once I got there and saw a room of familiar faces I slowly eased out of the sickness. I hope every shift won't be like that but I suspect it may. Much like my days that are "one step at a time" I think working will be the same. Facing people and "moving on" will be the same. The ebb & flow is hard. Feeling broken is hard. Not knowing what to expect next it hard. 

Today I am typing this out, drinking coffee in my jammies, and watching Anna play play doh. It is nice and feels "normal" in a place of unbalance and I am incredibly grateful for those moments.