Erin's Journals

As I write this, my heart is bursting with the kind of joy that at one time not so very long ago I never thought possible. And it comes with seeing two little boys who had never met hugging, laughing, playing like they’d spent so much of their lives together.

My sister Leslie and I are both members of what has been named by someone “the club no one wants to belong to”: that of bereaved parents. If you read Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy (HarperCollins Canada) you’ll know Leslie’s story: she lost her son Michael six years ago in a drug-related murder (yet unsolved and getting colder by the year) in Kelowna. Hers is a jagged kind of grief where she feels the life he was trying to flee at the time of his death can’t be properly or publicly mourned because of the grief his own life choices brought to others, or the judgment that accompanies her loss.

Like us, Leslie was left with a grandchild when her own child died; also like us, Leslie adores her sweet grandson with all her heart. And so it’s long been a dream that Dominic (who lives with his mother, her partner and their new son, his brother) would one day meet his cousin Colin.

That joyous day came last Thursday when Leslie, along with her daughter Ava and grandson Dominic, came by highway and then ferry for a visit to our island home. Les and I took the boys up island to a beach resort for three fun-filled days and two giggle-filled nights (sleeping together in a Murphy bed).

Before the children had even met, Colin’s sister Jane had decided she already loved Dominic “so much.” And, sure enough, it was only minutes after the trio met that they were running around, laughing, hugging and posing for pictures together.

Our getaway was everything Leslie and I had hoped for. From hours in the pool, to sand-in-your crevices, sun-drenched adventures at the beach, the boys bonded in ways we can only hope they remember as they grow older. Getting them together is a challenge that includes more hurdles than simply geographical ones (Leslie hasn’t even been informed where Dominic actually lives, so there’s that…) but we’ll push through. Family is everything, and grandchildren hold a special place in our hearts; I know of other grandmas who visit here having challenges with estranged inlaws after losing their own child. It’s a heartache you never want to know.

And so on that note – and to turn it into a much brighter end – let me thank a very special birthday girl. Today, just a few weeks before Phil and Brooke’s 5^th wedding anniversary, our daughter-in-law turns XXX years old. (I’m not allowed to say a certain number, but I don’t think she mentioned Roman Numerals…shhhhh!)

Her determination and love for our grandchildren helped bring their family our way three summers ago, and our lives – while so much busier – have been filled with that same joy I mentioned off the top. Thank you, Brooke, for all that you are, all that you’re becoming, and for letting us love you and your children (and husband, of course!) with all our hearts!

I love you more than licorice ice cream – and that’s saying something! You too, Les. Helluva busy visit but SO worth it for us all.

Have yourself a week as tasty and, yes, messy, as these cones were, and I’ll be back here on Monday. A brand new Drift with Erin Davis sleep story is uploading tomorrow: Candy’s Dandy – But Watch Those Magic Bonbons! L. Frank Baum wrote this wizardly tale of what happens when some loaded candies get passed around a staid dinner party. Enjoy! And Lisa Brandt and I return Thursday with Ep. 28 of our Gracefully & Frankly podcast. Join us wherever you download podcasts, won’t you? Both podcasts are 100% free thanks to enVypillow.com.

And oh yes, if you’re on @threadsapp I’m there @erindawndavis. And I wonder why I’m busy…LOL.

Just a thought… Whenever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness. [Seneca]

First off, a very happy July to you, and thank you! You may have been one of the 800+ who answered a question I posed on my Facebook page as to whether it would be okay with you if I went back to posting only a written journal, which is the format I started posting blogs in 20 years ago and to which I only added video three years back during our days of isolation and fear thanks to Covid.

The answer, overwhelmingly, was written (or do what’s best for me) and I’m relieved. My life has been so full, so joyously full, over the past year or so with three podcasts and two grandkids and a dog – all on the go – plus a patient husband on the sidelines, that something had to bend just a bit. SO, thank you again. Of course, I’ll post videos on occasion and let you know when and where to click, but for now, let’s just spend some quiet time together. And if you don’t mind, I won’t do my hair or makeup. Onward we go, and here’s to connection in all its forms.

There’s nothing as connecting as a long talk, spent leisurely catching up with friends or family. We all need to do it more. But sometimes starting a chat with a total stranger can give your heart a spark that you might otherwise have missed! I have two such conversations to tell you about today.

First, one in the dark on Saturday night. It was Canada Day and well after 10 pm when Rob and I took Dottie for one last walk of the night (which, thankfully, ensures a late sleep-in for us all the next day). As we walked down our street on the left side, I was startled to look up and see that, inside the parked, dark car that we were about to walk around, were two people. The driver’s side window was down and to cover my surprise I blurted (as is my way), “Hey, you two, this isn’t lovers’ lane! Move along.”

Of course, I was kidding. As I came up to the driver’s door, I saw a man about Rob’s age, with a bag of popcorn in his hand, and next to him, a lady who was also smiling. He said, “Oh, we’re just waiting for the fireworks”.

I said, “Well, unless you’re creating your own, you’ve missed them; they were last night.”

You see, our nearby town of Sidney, which our street overlooks, holds its fireworks on June 30^th. I suppose it’s so as not to compete with nearby Victoria’s display. In fact, we had just gathered our family in our darkened dining room with chairs, some Stravinsky playing on my iPhone and, yes, bowls of popcorn, to watch the show the previous night.

I imagine there was some embarrassment mixed with their disappointment, but in true Canadian style, we apologized to them that they’d missed them (as if we’re the town criers, for heaven’s sake)!

Our other chance encounter happened Friday in a park near Colin and Jane’s house. (Yes, their parents also live there, but let’s be honest – the kids run the place). Rob and I had walked there with the littles to play and then get a treat and enjoy a perfect summer day together. As they tackled the slides and climbing apparatus, an elderly woman with a cane, dressed smartly with a sun hat and holding a tote bag, asked if she could sit with us on the bench.

As the kids’ pup Sammy said her hellos, we started up a conversation. The woman had been on a long bus trip from downtown Victoria and wanted to catch her breath before continuing her walk home. We talked about the neighbourhood, her penchant for gardening and the hot, dry conditions of the past several weeks. She said she had to go home to water her tomatoes and that she hadn’t planted any the year before.

The reason? Well, I’m glad we were sitting down. In January of 2022 she was given a cancer diagnosis and told she had two months to live. 18 months later, here she was, chatting with us, 88 years old and just having navigated BC Transit to get to and from a medical appointment.

We finished our chat and I was just so grateful she had chosen that bench, that moment, to spend with us. You see, earlier in the day, I’d been part of an online summit talking about grief. I shared our message of hope and finding joy after immense loss. And then we had the chance to talk with her: someone whose life had had a finish line drawn out for her, who managed, not just to erase it, but to continue on through this marathon. The Stoics remind us that we are all facing that finish line – it’s just knowing and acknowledging that fact and living each day the way we’d want to be remembered: with kindness, selflessness and so much gratitude.

It is the latter which fills my heart today.

A reminder to you here that a brand new Drift with Erin Davis sleep story comes your way tonight: a fresh telling of Cinderella that I know you’ll enjoy. It’s free to you thanks to Kathy & Kim at Envypillow.com. And speaking of pals, Lisa and I will be dropping a brand new episode 27 of our Gracefully & Frankly podcast this Thursday. Thanks to Leah who wrote that she’s just getting into it, and catching up with all 26 to date! Oh, and in case you think you can’t figure out how to listen to podcasts, our soon-to-be 98-year-old friend Mira is now listening to Drift on her computer during the day. So there you go!

Talk again soon and thank you again for having your say and mostly for understanding.

Erin.

Just a thought… Little by little we let go of loss, but not of love. [Author unknown]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Well, I hope you’ve had a wonderful first weekend of summer. Rob and I once again headed to a couple of our favourite places: first, for a night at the Villa Eyrie Resort just about 45 minutes from home in Malahat, where the view of the fjord is not to be missed…

…then for a few nights at my heart home in Shirley, BC, near Sooke, where I shot my oceanside journal a month ago. We are staying in a cozy little rustic cottage with just a fireplace, a queen-sized bed and a sweet little doggy and very little WiFi. Just heaven, as you can see….

This bit of recharging is timely indeed: the coming week is gearing up to be a busy one. Of course, there will be a new Gracefully & Frankly podcast this Thursday with Lisa Brandt and me, and tomorrow, yet another new Drift with Erin sleep story comes your way: a wonderful tale from Wizard of Oz author L. Frank Baum called The Glass Dog. There are now some 100 episodes to choose from to lull you to sleep.

But this Friday I’m inviting you to join me and several other speakers online for free, as we delve into a journey of healing and empowerment. It’s the Growth after Grief Summit, organized by a woman in Atlanta who has brought together featured experts to talk with her throughout the day. It’s all about moving through grief with solace, inspiration and practical strategies. I wouldn’t call myself an expert – well, on anything, really – but having a #1 bestseller on my relationship to the topic doesn’t hurt and I’m frankly excited to get the message of Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy into the US at long last.

Although it’s been four years since our labour of love hit stores and websites like Amazon, the message remains the same. The dates that loom largest, including last Thursday’s 10^th anniversary of our late daughter’s wedding day – 10 years! – and the Father’s Day before, the weight of which prevented me from writing last week’s journal, all keep coming around again. So the question is, how do we continue moving forward while holding on to the memories, honouring them, but gradually shedding the heaviness of the sadness? How do we go on to live a life that will make those who have left us proud?

It doesn’t matter where in the world we are, or where you join us from. This summit is, as I say, free and  Host Bilancia (the Spanish word for “balance”) will be bringing us all together – you, me and my fellow speakers – for a day that we hope will bring you insight and peace. Here are some of the speakers who will be bringing insightful presentations with tools and ideas for moving forward as you reclaim your life in a very real, down-to-earth way:

Here’s a link for you. Just fill out the required fields so that we know you are coming, and hopefully we’ll see you this Friday. I’ll be speaking at 3 pm EDT – that’s noon where I am here on the coast in British Columbia – and thank you for letting me share this message of hope and transformation with the Growth After Grief Summit. See you there on Friday at 3 – it’s free. And have a lovely week.

Sorry to disappoint, but I’m taking a day – maybe the week – off journalling. It’s not you, it’s definitely me. But I couldn’t resist sharing this “dad joke” that we saw posted on a sign at a nearby used car lot.

Have a gentle Monday and thanks for coming by. All is well, and I hope that it is with you, too.

Erin

Just a thought… Time passes, but memories linger. [Eddie Stack]

As I write from the road, I will beg your indulgence to watch today’s journal, as it was late last night that I put it together in video form, unwritten, just spoken from the heart. You’ll be rewarded with moments of video and pictures and the story of how my sisters and I are learning that we make memories for ourselves, not our parents, when they we are all living with their dementia.

You can watch it on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.