20 Years

Dear Dad;

Today marks 20 years since you left. It seems like a lifetime ago in some ways. I'm 40 now - not much younger than you were when you died. I think about that a lot. I remember vividly you and the rest of the neighbourhood parents turning 40. You had no idea that less than a decade later you'd be gone. I try to be mindful of that and appreciate every day, because it's true - we really don't know how long we have to do all the things we want to do.

You've shown up in my dreams a lot lately. That hasn't happened for years. The dreams are always present day and it always seems like you are just stopping by to see how things are. It's funny how I can't picture your voice when I'm awake but in dreams it's as clear as anything.

There is a day sometime this upcoming June where I will have officially lived longer without you than with you. I regret not getting to know you as an adult although I am sure we would have had some challenges and my life would be very, very different. I wish you had seen me emerge out of the awkward, self-centred clueless teen years. I'm not perfect but I think I've done a lot more of "living up to my potential" than I did (of didn't at all, lol) as a kid.

We're all doing okay. Jamie (who prefers James now) is smart, successful and has made a great life for himself in Texas. Sometimes in certain pictures he looks just like you, other times he's more of a blend. I think he got a lot of his drive and determination (stubbornness?) from you. He's good at figuring things out from a technical perspective and he's handy - other things for sure he got from you as well as both his grandfathers. I think you'd be super proud of how he turned out.

Mom is pretty good too. She's happy. She found love again which is important and I've always been glad it was with someone who was like a second dad to me, someone you liked and respected.

Of course there is the cancer situation. I hate the fact that Mom's had to fight cancer too. I think it was probably that much scarier for her having already watched you go through it. I can tell you I could have done without having to have the "I have cancer" conversation with both my parents but that's life I guess. It doesn't seem fait but I guess that's also how life works. I'm hopeful she'll be okay. She's really positive about things and I know that makes a huge difference - we saw that with you. Had you not fought so hard we probably wouldn't have had the three years we had after you were first diagnosed. So in some small way I think you've helped her with this battle by setting an example. Thank you.

And then there is me. I've done some cool stuff. Like moving to Calgary and the kidney thing. You wouldn't have approved of the kidney thing (out loud anyway, mostly out of worry and fear) but I think it would have been one of those things you'd secretly have been proud of. You know, hiding newspaper clippings etc. in your desk drawer or your car like you did with some of my school projects or stories/letters I wrote. We found some of those after you got sick. It showed me a different side of you I didn't really get to know. You weren't great at showing or talking about how you felt, and I feel like maybe that would have evolved if you had gotten to know the grown-up me. These are the things I think about. Sometimes, especially in the last couple of years when things have been tough, I've "talked thing out" with you. Pretty one-sided conversation (lol) but in my head, especially around some of the career stuff, it made sense. And it helped.

The fact that its been 20 years seems like some kind of a turning point. As though I'm moving into some kind of new era, moving on, moving further away from that part of my life and leaving it behind. I'm such a different person than I was when you last knew me. Part of that comes with age, I know. But I also know for certain that had you not died when you did, at that point in my life,  I would have taken a completely different, unrecognizable path. And that despite not being around anymore, you have influenced and shaped many decisions I have made as an adult - professionally, in relationships and in general.

We never know how things are going to turn out. I do absolutely wish I had the chance to know you longer in life. At the same time though, going through the loss of a parent at 20 taught me some valuable lessons that have made me a better, more appreciative person. A stronger, more compassionate person.  Everything does NOT happen for a reason, but life events do shape how you evolve and grow as a person. And even the worst events give you fresh perspective.

Happy Valentine's Day, Dad.

Favourite Birthdays

We all have birthdays - that's certainly not unique. However for most people, their "favourite" birthday(s) are a little more individual. For those of you thinking "I don't have a favourite" - you probably do have a few if you give it some thought.

What makes a particular birthday a favourite? A lot of personal factors probably go into that. What happened that year, was there a fun celebration or activity, was it a particular milestone? Did turning a certain age have a specific meaning in the outside world? Did people remember?

For me, my top three birthdays were my 10th, 18th and 30th birthdays. No particular order.

My 10th was exciting because I was double digits (finally) and got every single thing I wanted, right down to the "grandpa hat", a sleepover party with about 7 friends (my poor parents) and a chocolate chip Snackin' Cake.

My 30th was awesome because I was so full of hope and excitement about a new "first number" meaning a better, more interesting life. I was desperately trying to flee the ups and downs of my 20s. In the year leading up to my 30th, I had really made some changes in my life and had a much better understanding of who I was, and was anxious to apply these new learnings to a whole new decade of living. At the time, I was also unemployed and really wanted to move forward in my career and life in a more meaningful way. At about 4:30 on the afternoon of my 30th, I received a call offering me a new regional marketing manager role with a food service contractor. That position would give me the opportunity to move to Calgary less than a year later - which was one of the smartest, rewarding decisions I've made which setting off a chain of events I never could have envisioned.

That leaves my 18th birthday. What made that exciting? Not only was I eligible to finally vote but the federal government had taken it one step further and called its 35th general election (just for my benefit I'm sure) for a mere five days after my birthday. I had followed politics in the newspaper since the Canadian Constitution Act in 1982 (yes, I was 7 when I started getting interested). I was intrigued not only by the issues and debates, but how riled up seemingly normal people got about the people running our country. I was fascinated by our political system and some of the more well known figures and characters who had made careers and names for themselves in this field. I was also turning 18, full of ideas as to what needed to be changed and upheld in our world and how I might make a difference with my one, single vote. I had a deep appreciation (thanks, high school history classes!) of how having the ability to vote was not something everyone else had in the world. It was something that people fought for their whole lives, and of course in some cases died over - because it was that important to have that right. So I was thrilled that I could celebrate my 18th birthday by exercising my right to vote. When I gleefully showed up five days later at the polling station, one of the ladies there pointed out to my (bewildered) mother that she had never seen someone so excited to vote as I was. Incidentally, my election pick won (although my selection criteria was not very conventional).

When I was in high school, part of my master plan and life timeline was to become Prime Minister at 40. While it's fairly likely that is not going to happen (I think there is some kind of rule where you have to be on the ballot), it somewhat amuses me that another federal election is looming, with an Election Day set for the day before my birthday. It's definitely handy because I wont have to calculate how many months - weeks - days away my birthday is. The media will essentially be (constantly) doing that for me. Fantastic. While I'm far less gleeful and idealistic this time around about voting, I absolutely will be sure to cast my ballot. That said, will the election contribute to whether or not my 40th becomes a favourite?

Probably not. Ha.

Yay Mom

Jamie, Mom and I, circa 1994 ish

Today is a good day.

My Mom has her last chemo treatment today. She's made it through six months of chemo every Tuesday for three weeks and then one week off. Rinse and repeat. She had a few hiccups along the way and a week or two that needed to be skipped but she did it. She's had some pain, a little bit of nausea and some pretty "off" days but has managed to keep up a regular schedule for the most part while going through treatment and also recovering from one of the biggest surgeries you can have done.

More importantly, she's remained super positive through it all. My Mom is generally a worrier and in the past has been known to be negative about  some things. But through her whole journey of getting sick, not knowing what was wrong initially and then being faced with a pretty serious diagnosis, shes been passionately optimistic. She wants to do everything she can to beat this and be around as long as she can. I know from past experience when my Dad was diagnosed with cancer, that attitude is everything even when your odds aren't great by medical standards.

My Mom said recently she is looking forward to being done. She and my step-dad can get back into going to the cottage, which they love, more often. She obviously won't have to deal with the side effects of the chemo and the PICC line she's had to have changed and protected for the last half a year. They won't be planning their weeks around treatment, blood test and recovery days.

She's also a bit afraid of being done. She said that as long as she's been doing the chemo, she feels like she's actively doing something to fight the cancer from coming back. I had never thought of it that way and I can see where she is coming from. I am hopeful that this course of treatment is all that's needed to keep things at bay for a long, long time. We are all cautiously optimistic - and there is a lot of hope. Given the potential prognosis last Fall, we are much further ahead and better off than I think we thought we might be. So here's hoping.

Today is a good day.

Mom's Big Day

This blog has taken a whole different direction than I initially planned. That's life, I guess.

The good news: my Mom made it through her 6-8 hour surgery today with flying colours. My brother said she was quite lucid when they finally got to see her. I'm really glad he's there, not only to check in on her, but to make sure my Stepdad (Stan) is doing okay too. I worry about him (Stan, not my brother, although I do worry about him too a smidge. I worry about everyone). Stan is such a good man and he loves my Mom so much. He's always been like a Dad to me and I hate knowing and seeing how this is affecting him. This has to be so hard for him to watch my Mom go through this and not be able to help, have their future be so uncertain. I wish I could change that for them.

The not as good news is that the surgeon is pretty sure its cancer. They will know better in a couple of weeks once the pathology is back, but the science and statistics don't leave a lot of room for alternatives. And that's okay. I'd rather know what we are up against, and be part of forming a plan of attack, be ready to deal with Cancer than to pin all my hopes on something that is statistically almost impossible. I know not everyone thinks this way and that's fine, but it helps me work through things, find solutions and be as ready as I can be to help my Mom through what's ahead. Being positive and optimistic is one thing, but I like a good dash of realism too.

So yeah, they caught it early, so that's good. But she still has a long recovery ahead from the surgery alone and then whatever additional treatment she'll need. And Pancreatic cancer is still mean, even when its stage one or two. Mom is ready to fight though and that is important. I believe its that same kind of fighting spirit that gave my dad three years when he got sick, when so many who are diagnosed with his type of cancer don't make it a year. I am hopeful her attitude will take her everywhere.

Things are okay. I'm okay, today, with not being there physically. I''m okay with taking things one day at a time and jumping the hurdles with my Mom and family as they come. I'm okay with my role in things right now. I feel like things, at least for now, are less in limbo.