When my daughter and I planned our weekend away so close to our birthdays, we decided to make it into a birthday celebration. Just the two of us. A trip to enjoy the mountains, to shop, try a new restaurant or two and to rest. Both of us have been going at full speed and we needed this time to rejuvenate. I couldn’t wait.
We left for our weekend on the 11th, the date of the day that my father passed away. That was thirty years ago. There is something surreal about that. He had passed just before Payton was born. I spoke at his funeral. And went on to lose my Godfather the next week, my own birthday the following, and then gave birth to his first (and only) granddaughter. We toasted to my dad on our sunny patio, facing the mountains, with a chardonnay. A fitting start to a spiritual weekend.
The weather graced us with a full moon and then lots of snow. The first night I woke at my usual 3 a.m. from the brightness of the moon shining into my room. It is the ‘pink moon’ and symbolizes the importance of renewal, hope, balance and growth. Fitting to be in my magical place to feel this. I heard Zane’s voice, “get your camera, mama, don’t miss this.” And so, I spent the first night snapping pictures with the spirit of my boy.
The next day, the snow arrived. It was a bit surprising, since the previous forecasts were sunny and warm. We adjusted, took out the umbrellas and headed out. A magical day started with mimosas, then shopping, a shared lunch, more shopping and dinner. The conversations melted away the hours. Not that my daughter and I have ever had a shortage of topics to speak of, but this day, included the sharing of past encounters that may or may not have helped shape us into who we are now, sitting in front of one another.
It makes sense that our past shapes our future. What our relatives went through, their stresses become part of our own make-up. We reminisced about our own family history and how this may have made an impression on her pre-birth. And how it included that each of us were forced onto this shaky path after Zane was killed to handle unbelievable grief.
We shared the discussions we have had with others who lost a child or siblings and the unspoken responsibility of supporting those who follow our own fate. We talked about tips, quotes, and antidotes to the incredible pain we live with. And as we chatted, I was reminded of the strength within my daughter, for others. Her desire to shelter those from the pain that was bestowed upon her. I heard her testimony of how tired she is and yet, the need to stay strong fuels her to go on. And I went to bed with a heavy heart. This is her life. I cannot change this. Ever. For either of us.
When someone you truly love is taken away, you change. You become a person who must survive. How you do that becomes a unique journey. But each grief warrior finds a way to face the questions to which there are no answers. Each finds a way to travel a path of eternal heartbreak. Each finds a way to stand and keep upright. And, most importantly, each of us finds a way to re-open our hearts to those in our life and those who join us through their own personal loss.
This trip, Canmore reminded me of its deeper side. The power of the mountains. The solid, breathtaking, can’t be shaken rock solid symbols of how we can stay calm and carry on. The area that became my salvation, my son’s happy place, my husband’s playground. And this weekend, I saw, has become my daughter’s guiding light.
Recent Comments