Tag: #zaneforever26 (Page 6 of 6)

Savoring Tiny Moments of Clarity

January 14, 2024 / Mama Fish

This week has been nothing I had written in my calendar to be. It all changed when I answered the phone to hear the frantic voice of my friend’s son. “Dad went for a walk and got lost. We can’t find him.” The local weather dictates staying indoors and somehow my friend has chosen to go for a walk and is nowhere to be found. This is brain cancer.

His son did find him, and we began to work as a team, spending a whole day in emergency, pleading with doctors, and then working with home care, social workers, lodge staff, trying to put parameters in place to ensure my friend is safe. It has not been easy, and it has been all consuming.

One afternoon, it was just him and I. We talked about doctor appointments and what results we hope for. Memory recall lasts only minutes, so the conversation is repeated. He is so very positive about life, about finding a cure. “One step in front of the other,” he says. I ask him, “have you given any thought to if the doctor says there are no more treatments they can do?” I ask this because we know this is the case. He looks into my eyes, and I gently touch his arm. “Just for a minute, go there and tell me what you think.” He ponders this. I am not sure how much understanding he has about this notion. He looks up and says to me, “well, what will be will be”. I lifted my coffee cup, and we clinked as if to toast the moment.

The doctors have said that the end-of-life stage has begun. But we know better. End-of-life does not exist. It should be defined as end-of-earth. We knew 16 months ago when he was diagnosed that this day would come. Somehow, all that knowledge does not make it any easier for us. And the person who we love we now watch, slowly, losing his brain power, not knowing what is happening in his own life. It doubles the grief.

The days are spent in hyper mode calling the experts, driving to appointments, the worry about support…it makes the time go by fast and at the end of each day, we are more like caregivers than friends and family. My friend senses this. It confuses him as to why we have all these new people coming to visit. Why he must spend time in hospital waiting rooms. Why he must spend the cold weekend at his daughter’s house. He doesn’t understand it is because he can no longer rationalize what is best for his own safety and comfort. This is pre-grief, the early stages where we know the inevitable is near, but we are too busy in the present to be present.

I suggested to his son that we need to focus on the moments of clarity. These moments are few and far between and will continue to become fewer and farther but right now we have these moments. We must stop thinking in these moments of the grief, of the future. We must open our hearts to feeling the moment. Really feeling the blessing of the moment. These moments will become the memories, kept in our heart, for the days after grief arrives to stay.

“Shattered”- by Gary Roe

January 7, 2024 / Mama Fish

If more reading was one of your New Year’s goals, pick up a copy of Gary Roe’s book, “Shattered”.

I am not sure when I read this book or if I wrote about it before. I can’t seem to find proof of either happened. And yet, when I open this book to share, I know I have read and written about it. So, what the universe is doing with tricking me into thinking I haven’t, led me to believe that perhaps there is something about this book that is worth repeating.

What one can expect with this book is truthful, applicable learning of a community who shares grief. Divided into 6 categories, Gary takes the reader through each emotionally charged area with stories, facts, questions to ponder and ideas to try to support your grief.

It is worth a second read and when I reread it, I got even more out of it. Different time, different stage, I leaned into the idea that negative thoughts and self medicating is natural, I don’t have to be brave. I empathized with the parents whose physical ailments are real but the energy to heal is not there. I heard that my anger is about the loss of so very much and most importantly, it is ok to be mad. Mad is good. Mad is about acknowledging the unfairness, the insanity of having to live without the physical presence of our child.

This book is a must read. A repeated read. Gary brings through this book, a reminder that grief is an individual journey, but we are never alone.

Thank you, Gary, for taking the courage to write on a subject that had not hit you directly. Thank you for working with and sharing with all of us, your compassion for our pain. Thank you for identifying the dark feelings our society feels should be ignored or fixed. Some things can’t be fixed. Thank you for reassuring us that we will never be the same and that is ok. Thank you for giving us hope that one day, there might be moments we will not cry in pain but rather in joy.

I don’t believe that I will ever heal, ever get over, ever get pass my loss. But I find a small comfort in the words of others who travel the same path that peace can be found. Gary’s work, and the collected stories inside his book truly support good mourning.

Conversations of New Year’s Eve

December 31, 2023 / Mama Fish

New Year’s Eve always took me along for the ride. When Jon worked, I would drive up to the club to hang out with friends and members, bringing in the New Year with him in between his duties. I grew tired of that and opted to stay home later, spending New Year’s Eve with the dog and a bottle of wine. It was blissful. Payton would want to spend it with us if there was no boyfriend in her life. Zane almost always worked that night but would never miss sending a “happy new year mama” text from wherever he was. Somehow those nights didn’t feel lonely, they felt peaceful.

Our tradition, since Zane was killed, is to spend the evening together, the three of us, huddled in the keg lounge at the ‘early seating’ to enjoy our favorite foods and a great glass of wine. It is a time we talk about what we want in the new year. The conversation is light and enjoyable. We then come home to watch a movie or chat some more…I’m not sure where the endless conversation comes from. But it does and I am grateful. We are all tucked into our own beds before midnight, and I end the night with a meditative visit with my son. As in the past, this year will go something like this.

“I wonder what you would be doing this year”, I ask him. “Probably working”, I hear him laugh. “Really?”, I ask as I run my finger along his picture, “would you not have a day job by now?” I smile at his smile. I continue to talk out loud about what I think I could do to honor him in the upcoming year. “It’s going to be hard to beat your modeling gig of this year.” I wink. “Maybe your photography needs to take a bigger spot.” I watch his face, happy, looking back at me. I can see the twinkle in his eyes. The room is quiet. The nightlight, his nightlight, softly illuminating my room. My thoughts go to what the new year might be like. What worries it will bring. What sadness it will bring. And I send a little prayer to my angels for strength to handle it. And for sight, the ability to see the joy and newness the year also brings. I don’t want to live in the worry. I want to live in the possibility.

As I think of these things and feel the hope of the new year, I notice it is midnight. I close my eyes. “Happy New Year Zane”. “I love you mama,” I feel him say. As was always my reply, I whisper, “I love you more.”

May 2024 be gentle. May it bring with it what each of us needs to relish in this life we have. May it bring supernatural experiences, proof that those we love are chatting with us each and every night.

My Son, Larger Than Life

July 16, 2023 / Mama Fish

Each year since Zane was killed, I have tried to do something to honor him. He has a business degree I advocated for as he was only one semester short of graduating. I started this blog in honor of his love of writing. We have started a mindful photography program and a bursary in his name. What could I do to mark his upcoming fifth year…. five seems like a gigantic milestone.

Then I came across a marketing campaign for Pierson’s Funeral Services. A fresh campaign called “Life by” which posts a larger-than-life picture that captures the spirit of the person. The first one I saw was “Life by Mary”. She was a woman in her golden years in a wet suit on a beach carrying a surfboard. I wanted to know her. She looked like she loved life and would make you laugh. I enjoyed looking for these billboards. Each picture told a story of the person celebrated. So, I reached out to Michael, a friend, and the owner of Pierson’s to discuss an idea.

“What if your campaign also captured those individuals that passed way before their time”, I asked Michael. What might the impact be of someone seeing your ad of a young adult? “If ever that was an idea, perhaps Zane could be a model”, I suggested. And Michael agreed.

He introduced me to (another) Michael, the artistic zealot behind Make More Creative. We talked about Zane and his personality and his antics and the reason why I would like him to be in the campaign. I shared pictures we had of Zane and left Michael to produce his magic. When he called to invite me to his office to see what he designed, I brought Jon, who was unaware of this meeting, and introduced him. I said, “Jon, I would like you to meet Michael, he is Zane’s modeling agent.” Tears of joy followed.

With Payton’s input too, our family selected the picture of choice. When the time came, we were invited for the unveiling. Our son, larger-than-life, covering the entire back of a Calgary City Transit bus! Words are unavailable to describe the emotions that flooded us. The absolute honor, a gift, given to our family to share ‘life by Zane’ with the people in the city that he was born and raised in. A City he loved.

We opted not to tell anyone. We thought what a surprise it would be to have his friends driving along and spot it. Without disappointment, we have had feedback from those who have seen him. “My heart skipped a beat”. “A perfect picture and right at Stampede, his favorite time of year, how cool.”

It has become a game to check the back of the bus passing to see if Zane is there. It is so much fun to be driving and spot him. It feels as if he is in town. That big contagious smile. That happy-go-lucky sense of play captured in a photo and now travelling through town for all to see. I wonder what Zane might say. He was never one that needed to be the center of attention. But he did bring the party and that is the essence one feels when they see my son, larger than life!

Big thanks from my heart to both Michael’s for making this possible. How lucky are we that you two are part of our tribe.

Celebrating You for 31 Years

August 14, 2022 / Mama Fish

Yesterday we gathered in our daughter’s back yard with family and friends to celebrate Zane’s 31^st birthday. I found it hard to smile and celebrate a ‘happy’ birthday to a situation that is anything but happy. Then I read somewhere that birthdays are a way to celebrate the number of years that this person has been. Period. Their birth brought their soul here in a physical form. Death removes only the body. Their soul is still alive and well. It is the soul we celebrate. I liked this advice. Zane was killed at 26 but his soul has been with us now for 31 years.

So, every year I create something that celebrates Zane, a simple activity that his friends can do to help honor his spirit. The first year we handed out pay-it-forward cards, asking his friends to buy a stranger a drink and give the card to the recipient so they knew why they had received a free drink. The second year we wrote wishes on ribbons and tied them to the tree that Zane had planted when he was in grade three. The third year was Zane’s 30^th birthday and we had a bingo game made, each square listing an activity that Zane enjoyed, challenging his friends to complete the 30 squares over the year for Zane. This year with many of his friends now traveling for a holiday or a destination wedding, we bought luggage tags with a picture of Zane, asking them to take “Zane along on their adventures” and send us back a picture, postcard, or sticker. I plan to make a collage of all the places Zane travels in spirit with his family and friends.

In the grief community, honoring is essential to good mourning. It is the way we continue a relationship with our loved ones. It is how we pay respect to their life here on earth. It is how we remember. Sharing these celebratory acts with friends, asking them to be a part of how you honor your loved one, enables us all to feel linked together.

Birthdays are supposed to be personal. We are celebrating a specific person on that day, thus finding ways to honor them that reflects their personality, their hobbies, or desires before they departed is an important way to commemorate them.

Birthdays are difficult, but every day is difficult, so I encourage you to take your loved one’s birthday as a day to smile through the tears and bring what they enjoyed in this life into your life. And to share it. Celebrate who they were, are, and will always be.

To Zane, on the Fourth Anniversary

August 7, 2022 / Mama Fish

Dear Zane,

It has been four years today,

an indescribable hell

trying to live in this realm

knowing you live in the other

It has been four years of ugly rituals

like crying every morning

and screaming every day in the car

It has been four years of not believing, believing

And then not believing again

It has been four years of mockery

watching my friends’ kids do, be, experience

what was to be for you

It has been four years of anger

Not able to comfort your sister

Or any of us from this pain…

It has also been four years of honoring you,

asserting you are still here,

friends and family include you

in our daily lives

which brings some peace

as a mother’s greatest fear is

there will come a time

when life goes on without you.

It has been four years learning

that the diminutive conciliation

of holding your hand

are unexpected symbols,

enigmatic Instagram posts

feathers on our path

dragonfly on the window

bubbles and balloons

signs that I cling to

as oxygen, for my own survival

There is also the Universe’s gift,

the subconscious reality through nighttime slumber

where I can feel your hug, hear your laugh

our moonlight conversations,

when morning arrives,

my broken heart holds tight to

giving the energy I need to walk another day

It has been four years today, my sweet boy

and if I have understood only one thing

It is that my love for you is endless

as are the tears I cry.

When 27 Candles Come

April 24, 2022 / Mama Fish

At Easter, my daughter made a toast to her guests saying how grateful she was to have them in her home. She said that her wish this year was to spend more time with those she loved as she reached her 27^th birthday; the birthday her brother didn’t get to. And that hit me.

I was told that when younger children approach the age of the sibling who died, there comes with it an irrational fear; a sense of lightning could strike twice in the same place. And from too many accounts of my fellow grief warriors, the answer is it does. My daughter is now the exact same number of days away from her 27^th that Zane was from his when he was killed. And although we have this daily ritual since that fateful day, of her texting me to assure me she got to work safe, got home safe, this week my thoughts live in a dark encompassing fear of ‘what if’.

I did not think I would feel this way. My soul knows that my daughter has a different destiny than her brother. She is a different child than he. But what does that matter? This does not reduce the anxiety. As we approach her birthday, each day I fret a bit more. I need to take deep breaths more. I wake up in cold sweats. I am a mess to which there seems to be no distraction.

I try to rationalize with this paralyzing emotion in me. I tell myself, she will make it, and we will celebrate her and if my heart knows this than I must focus on just this. I think back to when I was planning Zane’s 27^th. I had the perfect gift, a day with an award-winning photographer to take him into the Banff Basins to shoot pictures. Zane had suggested that we start his day with brunch, just the two of us. He commented on feeling excited about this birthday and the future it would bring him. There it is.

It is not so much that something will happen to Payton. Although we know too well tragedy can happen to anyone at any time. It is that Payton will be the age Zane wanted to reach. This day, her 27^th will be overshadowed with all the plans and all the hopes and the dreams that we had for Zane, shortly before his fate was sealed on that early morning highway. Her 27^th birthday should be her own day of celebration and yet it will not be. Intuitively, she is preparing herself to feel the pain of having her older brother not at THIS birthday. She knows this one should have been his to celebrate years before her.

Part of the agony I feel as her mother is knowing that I can’t bring her brother back. We can’t celebrate her birthdays with her older brother. We are travelling into unknown territory again; there is nothing she can compare her upcoming experiences to…”when Zane was ‘my’ age”. She is now the age he will never be.

Fear is a primary emotion connected to loss. That is all this is. It is not all about her reaching the birthday that Zane did not. It is the loss of turning 27, an age that will not bring with it the past comfort and experiences her older brother guided her with. And for me, the fear I am experiencing is not of the unknown dangers of life. What I am feeling is the loss of Zane replayed so very loudly with this menacing 27^th that did not happen for him. This birthday emphasizes our loss. Simple. And yet, so very complicated.

Joy In Its New Form

April 10, 2022 / Mama Fish

When we downsized it was with the plan to buy a small weekend retreat in Canmore with the extra money from the sale of our house. Over the last year we have been looking for just the perfect spot. What I thought would be a simple and exciting adventure has turned into a battle of endless meetings with mortgage specialists, bankers, realtors, and insurance agents. It has not been easy. At the end of the day, we did find a little treasure with a beautiful mountain view. It checks off all the boxes of a place that will be there for family and friends to rejuvenate in. So why am I not ecstatic?

Grief has a way of playing with our emotions and depleting our energy. The work we have put into getting this place and my fears around will this investment pay off have clouded the fact that I now own my small piece of heaven. It is further complicated by the fact that this is Zane’s wish, and he will not physically be able to join me. I have no energy left to feel joy.

When joy tries to enter our lives after we have lost a loved one, we seem to question it. Perhaps because it is different than the joy we had experienced before loss. Joy has become a stranger to the heartbreak we have been consumed with. When it arrives now, it is softer. It is quieter. It brings with it that nasty bittersweet taste. It brings with it guilt. It brings with it a tone of sadness. The reminder of ‘how life should be’ is not what we hold. Joy, after grief, is more complicated.

I heard my husband say to a friend that he watched me walk into our (new) condo and my smile was something he has not seen since Zane left. I didn’t realize I had smiled. I do know that on the balcony, facing the mountains, I could feel his spirit. I could feel an invisible hug from the mountains whispering to me, “welcome home”. And that feeling brought me to tears and standing there alone I thought to myself perhaps there can be healing here.

With that wee bit of hope, I pondered later how could I bring the joy of this place to fruition. How can I let go to really be happy about what we have? And I realized that I need to bring Zane in. I need to do what we grief warriors have been taught to do. In everything we do, we must honor those we have lost. If this is going to be a place of healing, it must have some characteristics of those I miss. It must reflect their likes and it must be filled with treasures that bring me peace. How do I turn our revenue property into a place of healing? Not just for me, but for anyone who comes into our place. How do I create an environment that will bring comfort and joy?

With that, my energy raised. I have a place that I can turn into a safe spot where my soul can experience a reprieve. I can take my bittersweet, melancholy life and plop it in front of the majestic mountain view, allowing nature to do what she does best. Ground me. Connect me. Remind me that Zane is still here. This plan of action opens my heart for joy, in its new form, to arrive.

Three Years Later

August 8, 2021 / Mama Fish

I woke up August 7^th, the day marking three years since Zane was killed. I poured a tea and sat in the early morning light and wrote to Zane. “I went to bed last night, begging you to stay out, to not be on the road as if somehow that plea could take us back in time and I would wake up from this nightmare”.

At three years, shock is not the right word. Disbelief is better. Anger is still the number one emotion. Hope is the same; that I will be able to have a relationship with him in some new cosmic way. Loneliness has increased alongside heartache. The messages from friends and loved ones who say they hold us in their thoughts are comforting. I am grateful that they remember.

Our family discusses how the last three years have been. We agree that the first was numb; we are only now starting to remember the details of that year. The second was brutal because shock is less which leaves you feeling the pain of grief more accurately. The second year also brought with it the realization that grief will be with us, for the rest of our lives. And that is disturbing. It leaves you to try to come to grasps that you will never be the same.

So, what does the third year bring? I am thinking we should take the learnings and the awareness of our last two years and start to shape our new beings. We can’t escape grief. It is a huge and everlasting part of our make-up now. Maybe the third year will offer us a bit more strength to face our grief and build around it. Maybe it will introduce us to ways we can do that. Maybe we can hope that this is the year grief doesn’t beat us up as often. (Although I will not hold my breath about that.)

Whatever it does or doesn’t bring, it is here. And we summon the courage to face it.