Until we meet again....thank you Ken

I remember when we first met. I fell in love with your witty sense of humour and laughed at the stories you told, while your son just glared at you. He wasn't sharing our humour at all, which made it even funnier.

It didn't take long at all for you and Mrs. D. to welcome me into your family. I've always looked forward to our visits; especially when we would all sit down stairs, by the fire, while you and Mrs. D. would share more stories.

And I'll always think of you when we play with the Wiiiiiiiiiii.

Your wit and intelligence showed through as did your many talents and I can certainly understand how Mrs. D. fell in love with you.

You were a wonderful father and grand-father.

I just want to make it clear that my only reason for saying this is NOT just that you delivered your first child, on your own, at the age of twenty-one. That alone says much about you. Then there are the many stories of canoe trips, camping trips, travel and sadness.

 

And my own experiences.  

I will always carry with me memories of you telling me stories that Barry didn't want repeated; you and Mrs. D. and the amazing relationship you both had; how you would translate all the English humour for me to understand it...I always thought it was so sweet and didn't have the heart to tell you I could understand it just fine.

Of course there were the times you would act grumpy even though I could see right through you. I can't tell you how many times, I've told Barry he reminds me of you. That is a huge compliment to both of you.

The day before our wedding. I was a bag of nerves and the tasks I had that day didn't help. You were like a father to me. I will always remember you telling me "Eat!!" as I was blabbering away at the table, holding onto my sandwich.

And Barry will never let me forget you telling me the day we were married that there were no refunds or exchanges.

 

I feel honoured that I had the time to get to know you as my father in law and thank you; not only for welcoming me into your family but for your part in delivering and raising a wonderful, sensitive, witty, intelligent son.

I know you've not truly left us but it saddens me that it will be some time before we meet again. I miss you already.

In the meantime, I'll be watching for you in the night skies...you'll be the star with the cutest wink.

Has anybody seen my brain???

After spending two years in isolation, I've been really working lately on getting a life again. If you read my last post, you'll get an understanding of how worked up I get making my way into town for an appointment. 

I can't understand how much of my independence was lost and, living rural with no car still; I find it interesting just how challenged I've been feeling.

I had an appointment with my doctor in Whitby today. The fun actually started when I was convinced that it was on the Wednesday. That would have made it yesterday. 

Yesterday came and I remember my husband, Barry telling me before he left for work that he had checked the time. I also remember checking the calendar.

Now in all fairness to both of us, we had just spent a very stressful weekend with Barrys parents and a serious health issue that I won't talk about right now.

Sure enough...yesterday Barry came home from work early to get me to my appointment. To my astonishment, we arrived 24 hours and 6 minutes early. We were both sure I must have written it down wrong but when we arrived back home, I checked....all three calendars. 

And on all three calendars....it read very  clearly...in red ink...THURSDAY APRIL 21, 2011 @ 4:15.

So as we looked at our options, neither one of us liked the thought of Barry taking more time off work and I'd been checking out the Go Schedule lately and thought it might be a good idea to give it a try. 

As I went through the schedule, I saw that with two transfers (Oshawa and Whitby), I would be taken directly to my clinic. The only decision I had to make was between where to board the bus (Peterborough or Cavan). I decided I was in the middle and chose Cavan. 

That was my first mistake.

My second and worse mistake was trying to navigate the Go-Train from Oshawa to Whitby, without carrying on to Ajax. I saw a lot of the Whitby station...from closed doors. It turned out there is construction being carried on at the station and they're not opening doors from certain cars. Only they don't tell you until you're on your way so you have a whole ONE STOP to try to get to the right car. 

Needless to say, by the time I actually made it to the clinic, my husband had just pulled in to pick me up....after working until 5. 

So... I can now expect to be anywhere from 24 hours and 6 minutes early to two hours late. 

Needless to say, I have to reschedule that one and hope I can still remember who I am by then.

It's a damned good thing I can claim old age now.

The Pity Party....

We all have them....a week when it seems that nothing goes right, no matter how much we try.

Well this has been one of those weeks. There's no point in going on about every little thing this week but what really didn't help is that I had to go to the hospital for a test yesterday. Nothing life threatening; I can be grateful for that. It's the trip into town that does it to me.

Funny; this kind of goes with my post just prior to this when I talk about how independent I've always been. Growing up in Toronto, I was used to taking the Toronto Transit everywhere. But as I said...things have changed.

My body is not what it used to be; obviously or I wouldn't have been going for this test to begin with. And I was stressing out further as the time came for me to leave.

One thing I did do for myself was to find out if anybody would be home that afternoon so that I could go by for a visit with my sweet, adorable grand-daughter. Emmy will be three years old in July and is constantly amazing me. She is blessed with intelligent, wonderful parents who take the time out to teach her constantly. And though she has very little 'other' family members, she knows how much she's loved by each one of us.

Well yesterday was my big day. I had to be out the door by nine o'clock to catch the ten o'clock bus into town. It wasn't until I was going through my bag at the hospital that I noticed my camera was not in it. I hadn't left my bag unattended once.

I remembered (or so I thought), putting it into a certain 'safe' pouch with a velcro folder in a zippered compartment. I've always been extremely safe with my camera. It's my passion.

At the same time, I remembered how much I was rushing to get out the door and decided that I must have pulled it out and forgot to put it back.

Now, much of my anxiety about getting into town is just that; getting there. It's an hour long walk to the nearest bus stop and as I've said, my body is not what it used to be. My 22 year old son suggested I take the short-cut across the train tracks, which made perfect sense. What I hadn't realized was how difficult the journey would be as I was constantly stumbling.

But I managed and after my test had a wonderful visit with Emmy and my daughter-in-law, Caroline.

It wasn't until evening, at home, when I came to the conclusion that my camera was definitely missing. I didn't sleep well last night and decided this morning to hook up Mollie and we'd cover my tracks; so to speak.

We walked all the way, including the tracks but no sign of my camera. It was on our way home that I found it on the other side of the road, just off the road. It was crushed; obviously been hit by a car. And I have to say that I was just as crushed.

We got home after our three hour walk and I fell asleep on the couch feeling sorry for myself.

When my husband came home, I recall him telling me that the memory card was gone. I find that a bit funny considering somebody had to have picked my my camera, open the compartment that holds the card and my batteries, then close it back up again.

Unfortunately for whomever took the time to do that, the only pictures left on there were of our furry critters and the card worked about 80% of the time for me.

When I think about the big picture, I can't help but think of my son's journey to the bus a couple of hours after mine. He came across a dead cat on the side of the road...just a young one. And afterward he had the task of passing this news onto the owner of the cat.

In the big picture, as much as I miss it; my camera can be replaced. My dog and our cats cannot.