Erin's Journals

Just a thought… The biggest mistake is you think you have time. Time is free, but it’s priceless. [Buddha]

The days ahead are full – so busy with pre-listing home pandemonium and getting the place ready for photos and video tomorrow that we called the realtor and asked for another week. Panic averted.

Of course, the week is heavy on the heart, too, with May 11, our daughter’s day of leaving this life, and then Mother’s Day the following day looming. But we’re keeping busy, busy, busy. It helps, somewhat. That is, when we’re not melting down. SERENITY NOW!!!

As I’ve packed and sorted, I’ve had a lot of time to think. Not all of the thoughts are cheery today, but if I can’t be real here, on my own blog, I don’t know where I can.

With that in mind, some observations:

In addition to gift bags I mentioned last week, it seems I am unable to throw away something that has been framed. It must be precious, right? Whether it’s a certificate for “best this-or-that” or a photo of which I’m not overly fond, I’ve carted those things across the country (and from home to home when we were in the GTA) for, oh, two decades. So on the weekend, I painstakingly emptied the frames and loaded them into boxes for donation.

I’ve even started to give away or toss things from Lauren’s childhood: stuffed toys, a plate with her time and date of birth on it, a Precious Moments birthday train we added to year after year, a little snow globe with a girl on a fence and the caption “What will I grow up to be?” on it. We got our answer, and that is enough.

All of these mementoes, trinkets and items that were special once deserve to be loved by someone else, where appropriate. By holding on to them by the boxful, we’re only leaving someone else to toss them when we move on.

Another thought: do people who are younger than we are have any idea how much care homes cost? We’re looking at a private place for my dad that promises to cost at least $11,000 a month, all in. Even with a lifetime of frugality, good earning and shrewd investing, Dad could live there for only three years before his money is gone.

There’s public care, but it is harder to get into than Harvard, and there are many folks further along in their health deterioration than Dad. As he’s a veteran, we could apply to a place for them near us here on the island, but the waiting list is probably longer than his life span (and maybe ours), and he has to be hospitalized before they’ll consider admitting him.

What a situation we’re all in now! It’s like no one we elected 20 or even 30 years ago listened to the studies saying that there was going to be this massive silver tsunami in demographics as Boomers aged. Honestly, I’m starting to think I’ll check out before I let myself run out of funds late in my life. Dark? You bet. But realistic, too.

When you’re 20, you think 40 is old. When you’re 40 you think your whole life is mostly still ahead (and, usually, it is). But time goes faster than any of us can imagine, and soon you’re moving for the umpteenth time and packing up your memories for the dump or for charity. Who ever saves for a decade (or longer) of senior care at the end of the road? My dad did: he paid into a type of insurance for years. And what’s his dividend? $2000 a month. That won’t even get you in the door.

What on earth are the people who can’t afford a place to live now going to do in forty or fifty years?

And why are we trying to extend our lives, if they won’t be worth living?

All questions to which I have no answer. I count our blessings that Rob and I have security now and hopefully well into the future. We’re the lucky ones. We keep telling ourselves that.

“Except,” as we always add, “for that one thing.”

May this week treat you well. I’ll have a new much happier version of our podcast Gracefully & Frankly with Lisa Brandt this Thursday (Episode 72). We always laugh together; our half hour is a bright spot amidst the packing paper and memories, the decisions and the fatigue. May our time together each week be something you look forward to as much as we do. And Happy Mother’s Day – in whatever form it takes in your heart.

Just a thought… Optimism isn’t a belief that things will automatically get better; it’s a conviction that we can make things better. [Melinda Gates]

If I titled these journals, which I don’t, I think I’d call it “My Life in a Gift Bag.”

As we continue to sort and donate (including to DeclutterforDiabetes.ca – details in a video tomorrow on their weekend pickups all summer), I found myself on Saturday in the laundry room, knee-deep in piles of gift bags.

About three-quarters of them were Christmas bags: some had been labelled and relabelled, some used only once. A few had the store-attached labels on them filled out, but most were in good or fair condition.

I piled them according to their destination: new condo (see last week’s journal here if you missed the story of why and where), donation pile, and garbage or recycling. Here are a few favourites that made the “condo” pile. Bought these ones full price – and you know how rare that can be in these dollar store days!

As I posted on FB Saturday, someone needs to stage an intervention the next time I find myself carefully peeling off a label and tucking that bag away. And then I wondered what it is about gift bags that tells me something about myself, and I figured it out: it plays perfectly into the whole idea of who I am.

I am, as I’ve often said here, the kid digging in the pile of manure who’s sure there’s a pony in there somewhere. I have this uncanny (and often unfounded) sense of optimism that is enough to drive Rob crazy: when the Amazon truck comes, I think it might be a gift. When someone arrives at the door, I wonder if perhaps it’s flowers.

I think that the reason I hold on to the bags is because I am always expecting happy events: ones where you would give a gift to someone you love. Maybe there’d be one in return – it doesn’t matter. My outlook is often disgustingly, impossibly cheery.

Then there’s the other part of saving bags. When I took the time to read some of the labels, to make sure that I wasn’t donating ones that had someone’s writing on them, I was taken back to family events of 10, 15 years ago: there was the name of nieces with whom we haven’t shared a Christmas in that long a time, a bag for my aunt (how I ended up with the bag, I’m not sure, but I’m pretty good at squirrelling them away before the recipient knows they’re missing) and, of course, the labels on which we’d written our late daughter’s name.

One very small one had a sticker on it upon which I’d written “Open Me Last.” Was it her “big” gift that year? A cellphone, perhaps? A message that told her where to go look for a surprise gift that wasn’t under the tree? I couldn’t recall and wish that I could. Or maybe not.

As our family Christmases likely come to an end this year (we’ll probably go east in the fall for birthdays and Thanksgiving) I wonder about whether we’ll be somewhere warm for the holidays, if Rob takes hockey retirement or a hiatus. I can’t picture anything beyond trying to get the house ready for listing right now, but time will march on, as it tends to do.

As with all things in life, we don’t know what lies ahead: what challenges, what changes – and always – what gifts.

So I’ll pack away a few and hope to fill them with the ideas of happy moments that still lie ahead. Memories yet to be made, for many years to come. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a pony to find.

Just a thought… Your life does not get better by chance. It gets better by change. [Jim Rohn]

Wow! Who knew at this age I could find a NEW addiction? Turns out it’s selling on FaceBook Marketplace. Now, I have my challenges: for one thing, I have several FB accounts (public, family only, the old one that anchors them all – don’t ask) so I have trouble getting in and out of the selling spot, but I have mostly figured it out and it’s working! We’ve been selling pieces of furniture of all sizes, most of which we moved from Ontario and have rarely used as they lived in the basement.

You know, stuff like that. And then there was this glistening antique table with flaps that fold down to make it super narrow; the perfect piece of furniture in a not-overly-roomy house years ago. It, too, sat unused downstairs here in BC and then made its way into the apartment down there as a desk. It sold too (a real bargain at $200).

But here’s the “eek” story we were told when we bought this from an antique dealer on Bayview or Mount Pleasant in Toronto: in its previous life, it was a coroner’s table. Thus the flaps that dropped at the sides. So I told the lady who bought it, “If you cook as badly as I do, it won’t be the worst thing that table has seen!” She laughed…and believe me, I sussed her out before telling her that story. Didn’t want to sink the sale!

Speaking of sunken sales, after a really good yard sale day on Saturday (the neighbourhood is allowed one per year) I had a really bad experience with a Facebook Marketplace customer. I’ll fill you in on Thursday’s Episode 70 of Gracefully & Frankly. I have to get to another topic here now.

All of this sales talk is to tell you that we are leaving this glorious quiet neighbourhood with its views of mountains, oceans, deer, flowering trees and, yes, Victoria International airport’s comings and goings for a place with ocean and a marina and restaurants out our windows.

As we did when we left Ontario in 2016, we weren’t just going to let unfortunate life changes come without taking control and writing a new chapter. So Rob and I have purchased a condo overlooking the ocean in nearby idyllic Sidney-by-the-Sea. It’s walkable, so much more cycle-able than up here on the mountain, and closer to our friends, now that family is moving away.

Did we consider moving to Ontario? That would seem a no-brainer, but not even for a moment. We both want to live out our days in British Columbia, surrounded by natural beauty (and yes, we know our home province has plenty of that, too) and serenity. What we couldn’t do is stay in a home where three bedrooms had been designated for children to sleep and play in; the sadness of our situation was not going to singe us, so we moved through the flames and found a new place to grow old(er). Top floor, great views, next door neighbours we already know (!) and just a super friendly, liveable location. Although, I will have to stop walking the dogs in the dark in my pyjamas, lest people recognize me for the crazy lady I actually am.

We take possession in a month and haven’t even listed our house yet. I don’t know how we’re going to get through the next month-and-a-half, but when we left Toronto, we had two places to sort, clear out and move (condo and cottage) so we’ve done this before. We have a storage unit and stuff is going in there before the house pictures are taken. I’d like to say it’s our last move, but we said that about the house we so love that we’re in right now. So we’ll see.

Yes, we’re busy. Thankfully, for what we don’t sell or choose to donate, DeclutterforDiabetes.ca is starting regular weekend drop-offs as of May 4. I’ll tell you more about that soon – and again, wish us luck!

Just a thought… The whole time, I was looking for someone to grow old with, until I found the one I wanted to stay young with. [@kirkdiedrich on @threads.net]

Welcome, and thank you for being here today. Especially today.

I stumbled upon that quote on Threads last week and it took my breath away. I mean, here we are with Rob entering a new decade and me nine years behind him and I’m fighting off fear of living without my partner, the one I want to stay young with.

The highlight of our 10-day birthday trip to Henderson, Nevada, outside Vegas, was not a Royal Flush or Four Deuces; it was my absolute ace of a former co-host who flew down from Toronto for four days and made us laugh almost every minute. Bless friends like Mike Cooper, who, like us, has had his share of life’s greatest highs and deepest lows, yet keeps smiling and laughing. We are so truly blessed. (And if you missed the hilarious video and outtakes in last week’s blog, see it here.)

My news now turns darker as we share a development we’ve literally been running away from. In about six weeks, our grandkids and their parents are returning to the city where Colin and Jane were born, where Phil and Brooke met and married, and where our Lauren left this life: Ottawa. Having given it four years here, they’ve decided that they need to go back and start again after their lives were disrupted by Covid and then enhanced by family (us) in BC; back to parents, cousins and friends, school walkability and job opportunities.

More astute followers of my FB posts and journals here probably sensed that I’ve had some less-than-cheery days over the last few months, and you’d be right. So, this is why I’m focussing on letting go. Just for the record, we will not be going with them back to Ontario. Our life is now in BC.

However, coming to terms with losing this family has once again dragged us through the jagged stages of grief we endured nine years ago. But as our therapist pointed out to us about this upcoming change, “You’ve survived worse.” And he’s right.

But here’s where I’m going to ask you this kindness.

Our therapist is allowed to remind us of what we’ve survived; no one else is. Just as I have said repeatedly that at least are two words one never relays to someone in grief (even out of the kindest motives) Rob and I are not in a place to receive gladly the reminders of what we should be grateful for. Don’t worry, we know.

As we did so at Lauren’s funeral in May 2015, now I can list some of the newer “at leasts” that we know:

• we had four of the best years of our grandkids’ lives, shared just a six-minute drive from our house. Sleepovers with Grama and Toot were a regular event to which we all looked forward

• Rob got to teach both kids skating, we showed Colin how to ride a bike, and tutored both kids in how to endure being a Leafs fan

• we were able to take them on road trips big and small: to cabins and amusement parks, restaurants and local wonders

• we shared hours of silliness, teaching them games and making the most of outdoor play 12 months of the year

• we listened attentively to their ideas and feelings, their thoughts and opinions, and we got the opportunity to know these amazing little humans, maybe even helping to shape them along the way.

We. Made. Memories. Christmases and birthdays, holidays and ordinary days. And they will not forget Grama and Grandad Banana (aka Toot). We know all of these things.

Finally, let me share a few dreaded “at leasts” that we don’t need to hear:

• You can always visit, at least it’s not (put faraway country here)

• There’s always FaceTime and Zoom

• You’re lucky even to have grandkids

We know, we know, we know. The list could go on and on, but it won’t. We’re done feeling deeply disappointed and sorry for ourselves: we realized and said out loud to them that the kids weren’t doing this to us but for them. The heart doesn’t always hear what the brain is saying, though, and this will take time.

But you know me – I don’t sit in sadness for long. I push through to find it where I can. So next week here I’ll tell you what Rob and I are doing to control what we can change, accepting what we can’t, always with gratitude.

I guess the quote about staying young with the ones we love doesn’t only apply to a life partner, does it?

Hello – and Happy Eclipse Day! May this not be the most disappointing four minutes in Niagara Falls since it was the Honeymoon Capital of the World!

Okay, I have a VERY special friend with me here on vacation. You remember him from our radio days in Toronto (I hope), so enjoy this video (with outtakes) of Mike Cooper and me. We had a terrific time and I guarantee, so will you!