For the past 9 years I have been blessed with the sweetest little companion I could ever want. “Kendall”, a Tibetan Spaniel cross who was four years old when we got her, was advertised in our local paper in the “free to a good home” section. She had already been with two families and the present family claimed allergies had developed and they could not keep her. I had been looking for a pet for my youngest son, who had ADHD, hoping he would learn responsibility and compassion in caring for an animal under our supervision. I sent my husband and son to meet her and bring her home if it seemed like a good match. They returned a short time later with the most beautiful, golden haired, soulful eyed dog I had ever seen. I have always loved animals, and considered myself a cat person all my life, but in the months that followed I fell completely in love with that little dog. She became my shadow, almost always physically right at my heels and if she could not be with me she would place herself where she could follow me with her eyes. When I went to bed at night Kendall was there curled up at my feet, and when I woke up in the morning she was waiting to follow me around during my morning routine. If I managed to get into the bathroom without her, I would open the door to find her waiting. If I sat down she was either at my feet, or on the couch with me. She never showed signs of separation anxiety, never chewed anything that wasn’t hers; never got into the garbage or made any mess in the house. She adored neck, ear and tummy rubs, and nothing was more exciting than a walk with both my husband and myself together. She loved walking through local woods and parks with all the sights and smells and a dip in the creek along the way. She wasn’t perfect; she was rather territorial, protective and unpredictable around strangers, but never with family. To us she was just the loveliest, most loyal creature that ever lived. She loved us totally, and unconditionally. She seemed to know when I was sad and needed comfort, if I raised my voice she was there in my face making sure I was okay.  She figured her job in the family was to protect us from every squirrel, bird, and bunny that dared set foot on our property and only just tolerated the family cat out of respect for her seniority in the house. Kendall was turning 13 this Spring. She had only just begun to show what we thought were signs of aging. She was getting creaky when she stretched. She was tiring faster on walks, she wasn’t eating as much, and her breathing had changed. Over a two week period we noticed her breathing becoming shallower and more rapid and figured her heart might be failing, so an appointment was set at our local animal hospital. After a few restless nights I became more concerned and left work to get her checked out sooner. Her heart sounded fine, but the vet suggested xrays of the lungs and a short time later came back with a grim diagnosis. Her lungs were full of tumors. He believed cancer had developed in either her liver or spleen and spread to her lungs and there was nothing that could be done for her. We took her home hoping to get a little more time with her, but within 24 hours her condition had gone downhill rapidly. She had stopped eating and could not even move from the couch. her breathing was very laboured and it was apparent she was slowly suffocating. We knew we could not let her suffer this way and an appointment was made immediately at the hospital. I was devastated and could not see her go, but made my husband take her and promise not to leave until he was sure she was gone. I will never forget the look of confusion on her face when she realized I was not coming with her as she left the house. She stared right into my eyes and refused to budge until my husband picked her up and put her in the car. I’m told that right before she went to sleep she put her head right down on my husbands hand and gazed into his eyes. It has been two days without her and we have all cried buckets over her loss. Everything is different. Coming home to an empty house, waking up and finding an empty space at the end of the bed, no water bowl to freshen, no time to be set aside to take her for a walk, her treats are packed up, her harness and leash sit empty in my car from her last ride, The back door blinds have not been opened since she left the house. I shopped tonight and realized I had no dog food to buy. It’s going to take some time to get used to all these little changes. I still can’t believe she is gone. She was one of the best things in my life and brought me joy each and every day. I feel utterly heartbroken and miss her so much. I’m sure the pain will lessen with time, but I will never forget the amazing impact that little dog made in my life.

Every February a close knit group of relatives from my Mother’s side of the family gets together at the Mandarin restaurant to celebrate  the Winter birthdays. There is usually between 15-20 people from the youngest who is presently 4 to the oldest who is now 83. Tonight as I sat listening to conversation and watching the interaction of these people I thought how very lucky I am to be part of this family, and how each of the women were amazing role models who greatly influenced my life.

My Nana is the matriarch of the family. She has been a moral compass for me my whole life. She has influenced my love of reading, the importance of imagination and instilled in me a strong sense of family and friendship, compassion, and of right and wrong. She is well read, intelligent, opinionated and still has a strong sense of curiosity and knowledge about life in general. I love that we can openly discuss and debate just about any topic under the sun when we are together.

My Mother is the strongest woman I know. She left a bad marriage to raise 3 young children almost entirely on her own. She was widowed soon after her second marriage and  went back to school to become a nurse so she could better all our lives. She has suffered through hard times and health issues and never crumbled that I am aware of. She has supported me my whole life and continues to be there for me whenever I need her. She does not rely on anyone but herself and in so doing lives her life exactly as she wants. She is the heart of my family and has instilled a strong sense of independence and freedom in me.

My Aunt is the sensible, most giving of herself, kindhearted soul of the family. She is the philosophical, spiritual, considerate, soft spoken, and gentle peacekeeper. She garners respect through kindness as opposed to sternness, although you somehow know never to cross her. She has taught me common sense and acceptance, optimism, faith, and the importance of keeping family close.

My Great Aunt is a vibrant, energetic, intelligent woman of 8o. She takes great care of herself, always puts her best foot forward, and is always ready to keep the conversation going. She keeps herself very busy and active in the world around her and has taught me that growing older does not mean being frumpy or out of the loop.

Each of these wonderful ladies have been a blessing and an inspiration in my life and I love them all dearly.

I’ve been to several funerals in the past decade; mostly older relatives who have passed.  There have been differences of course, services with cremations to follow, viewings and burials on different days, some were drowning in flowers and photos, and some sparse of both. but they all seemed pretty much the same up until now. I’m not particularly good at dealing with death. I don’t know how some people can be so stoic and stand up and eulogize the dead. It takes a lot for me to stop from blubbering all over everyone. Just the look of grief on another person’s face and I turn into a puddle of tears. Today I attended the most wonderful funeral. I know that sounds horrible, but it really was wonderful. It was the service for a very long time family friend. He and his wife were neighbors and best friends of my Grandmother and they have known me since I was born.  I was raised calling them Aunt and Uncle, and have many good memories of time spent in their company at Christmas parties, picnics, swimming in their pool, sitting in lawn chairs in their yard or my Grandmothers, seeing them at baby or wedding showers, birthdays or weddings. As I got older I saw less of them, and I had not really seen him in a few years, but heard that he was ill and knew his time was coming. I honestly had not really expected his death to come as much of a surprise, or that I would attend his funeral let alone feel so sad at his passing.  This gentleman was a bit of a rascal, always a devilish twinkle in his eye, spent his days drinking and smoking at the local legion, but he was also the friendliest, kindest and most generous man I ever knew. He could strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere and leave them feeling like family. He adored children and made them feel so special. He was a loving family man and well known, respected member of the community. On Saturday November 14th he passed away. I found out that evening when my Mother, Grandmother and Aunt came to visit. I was okay at first, but seeing the grief on my relatives faces started me thinking about what a great loss it really was. This was a man who impacted the lives of so many people in such a good way. Over the next few days I found myself thinking about him and his family a lot and knew it was important that I attend the funeral and pay my respects with the rest of my family.When I walked into the funeral home it was like going back to my childhood. So many people had turned out that I had not seen together since I was a little girl. There were tears mingled with lots of very happy memories. Everyone was so happy to see and catch up with each other and share their grief while reminiscing about the good times they’d all had with my “Uncle”. We visited and hugged and renewed acquaintances. We all laughed together at parts of the eulogies and cried through others. The chapel overflowed with people whose lives had all been touched in some way by this man. Not one person in attendance would say he was perfect. He had his share of flaws, but the hand of friendship he extended to anyone and everyone, the generous spirit, the ease with which he could strike up a conversation and the sharing of his life and wonderful sense of humor was a gift that had left an impression on all who met him. It really made me think about the person I am and what effect I have on other people.

I haven’t told anyone yet, but I have a blog. Little old me. I’m probably the least technologically savvy person I know. I never did have an interest in technology. I still can’t get over the fact that someone came up with the idea to create the television, camera or telephone, never mind the computer. I have no idea where I was while the other children were playing with their Atari’s in the seventies, or their Nintendo’s in the eighties. I think that was what set me back.  I have been unable to learn, or retain any of the normal things the average computer user finds common knowledge. I don’t understand much of the lingo or terminology. I don’t chat, use MSN, have a web cam, etc. I don’t have an Ipod, MP3 player, Blackberry, or even a cellphone. I don’t know how to text message someone or set the DVD player. My kids just don’t get it. My Husband the computer geek can’t fathom it either and gets extremely frustrated at my frequent pleas for help, or at my disgust when the laptop loses it’s connection. I do have Facebook; and I’ve been on a couple of message boards. I can find just about anything anyone wants to know with Yahoo search. I know how to find directions and I love browsing through local real estate sites like the MLS, but the idea of me having a blog is pretty inconceivable. Thirty years ago we still had record players and rotary telephones. I can’t begin to imagine what the next 30 years will bring.

I grew up with an alcoholic Father. It was a pretty turbulent childhood. Eventually my parents divorced and by the age of thirteen my Father was absent from my life. He moved to another province and I did not hear from him again until I was in my twenties and had a child of my own. During that time my father never contributed financially to my upraising. My Mother raised myself and my two brothers on her own. There were no Birthday cards or gifts, no cards or phone calls when I was hospitalized once for a serious asthma attack and once for an unknown virus that had me quarantined and in isolation. There was no attempt to contact me as I graduated first from High School, and then from College. There were no notes of congratulations when I got married, although he actually sent a card when I gave birth to his first Grandchild. I tried very hard to understand how a parent could bring a child into the world and then abandon them. I also tried very hard to forgive him; so when my son turned two and my Grandmother told me my Father had moved back to the area I tried to reconcile. I thought maybe he hadn’t been much of a Father to me, but maybe he would be here for his Grandchild. It wasn’t long before he was gone again. I had two more children while in my twenties and heard nothing from my Father. When my Grandmother passed away my Dad asked to be part of my life again. He was older and in the twelve step program, and trying to fix the damage he had done in the past. He virtually stalked me for the first week even showing up at the Mall looking for me when he couldn’t reach me at home. I felt really uncomfortable with all the sudden attention. The last time I’d spoken to my Grandmother she had asked me if I hated him and I said no. I didn’t want to hate him. I didn’t particularly like him, but most of all I just didn’t know him. I called this man Dad, but in almost 3 decades I’d only seen him a handful of times; nevertheless, I decided to try to get to know him better. We started communicating by email, but when he discussed coming to visit I found myself lying and saying we would be away. As time went on he would come in and out of mine and my children’s lives several times. Then he fell ill. He was Diabetic and had Cancer and he started updating me on his health. I guess the last straw for me was when he told me he had something really important to tell me, then completely stopped all contact with me. I heard from a cousin that he’d had surgery and was not well, so after 4 months of no news I contacted an Aunt who told me he was doing well and talked to her all the time. I was livid. When my Father left us, his family left us too, so getting information from them was hard for me. I’d been wondering for Months if he was even alive and here he had just forgotten all about me again. I had finally reached my limit and could not take it anymore. Something died in me that day and I finally came to terms with the fact that I did not have a Dad. Biologically I had a Father, but he had contributed nothing but confusion, violence, and heartache to my life and it was time for me to give up on the idea that he would ever be a real Dad to me, or a Grandfather to my children. It’s been a few years now since I’ve talked to him. He still sends the occasional card to try to get my attention, but the pull isn’t there anymore. I’ve tried to put him out of my mind, but the recent passing of my Father-in-law has brought a new realization to me. I’ve known my Father-in-law for about 25 years and only spent a couple of days a year in his company, but he was more of a Dad to me in that time than my own Father ever was. I always knew my Father-in-law was there if we needed him. He was supportive and caring and loved his Grandchildren. I cried repeatedly in the days following his passing and came to terms with the fact that I probably would never shed a single tear when my own Father dies.

My oldest boy who is 23 years old is thinking about coming home. He moved from Ontario to Alberta in October and is missing family so much more than he thought he would. This might have been brought on by a very bleak Christmas; or possibly the loss of his paternal Grandfather who passed away yesterday, or the fact that reality has sunk in and working seven days a week at two different jobs just to cover rent, food and bills is not a lot of fun. He went out there previously to join a friend, worked at a resort, lived in the hotel, and had a great time. This time around he is on his own, paying a steep price to share an apartment, and he has been sick on and off for the past month. I would be happy to have him home. We had our difficulties with him when he was a little younger, but he had been doing really well for the past few years, and he is the type of young man who can charm the socks off of you when he wants to. He knows coming home does not mean a free ride. He gave up his big room in the basement to his sister when he moved out and will now have to stay in a much smaller room upstairs unless he finds someone here to share an apartment with. He must start the job hunt right away and take whatever is available until he can find something better. He must contribute to the household. Lastly he must work on some goals to improve his future. He may change his mind after thinking it all through, but I’m just glad he is starting to realize how important family really is. He is going to miss his Grandfathers viewing and service and he is devastated, but he may make it home in time for his Grandfathers interment. Whatever decision he makes, when he does decide to come home he will be welcomed back with open arms and happy hearts.

Sometimes as parents we spend so much time trying to make our children happy that we forget about the bigger picture. Around this time last year my daughter was learning to drive. She took advantage of every opportunity to practice  and I have to admit I was very uneasy with her behind the wheel. I do not particularly like to drive myself, but if I am in control of the car I am fine. Giving that control to someone with little experience was very difficult for me, but being the mom that I am I tried to be supportive and give in to her desire for independence. One night last February we had met up with some other relatives at a nearby restaurant to celebrate some family birthdays. It was a cold, wet night as we were about to leave DD desperately wanted to drive the whole family home. Now the Mom in me began to struggle with this. We were not far from home, but it was not the best conditions. She was still having some difficulty with turns, it was dark, and I worried that if something happened it would involve the whole family. I really felt uncomfortable with the idea, but DD was laying on the guilt trip, and she knows how to push my buttons.  I turned to my Aunt who overheard the discussion and half jokingly whispered “I’m scared”. Now my Aunt is someone I have looked up to my whole life. If ever there was a Saint living in this day and age it would be this woman. She has been a teacher for over 40 years, a soft spoken, old school, stern when she has to be, lady with a heart of gold. Her simple words hit me like an epiphany that night. She turned to me and straight forwardly said, “You can always say no”. Simple common sense words that seemed to have completely eluded me at the time. I just had not wanted our lovely evening to end with DD sulking and feeling that I did not trust her. My desire to make my DD happy had blinded me to the bigger picture. My head suddenly cleared. Of course I could say No. I am the adult. It’s not my job to please my children all the time. When safety is an issue it is my job to say no. I don’t know how I got so side tracked from the big picture, but those words really hit home that night and I had no problem saying no loud and clear from that day onwards.

Every year we celebrate Christmas at our house. We have an open house buffet for my relatives on Christmas Eve and at midnight when everyone has gone we open gifts with our kids. Now our kids are older, so this works well for us as we can all sleep in on Christmas Day before all the relatives arrive again for Christmas dinner. Christmas is a big event in our family. Everyone contributes to the feast and we really enjoy chatting with each other and doting on the youngest family members. There are gifts of course and everyone is always trying to find the perfect item that will bring gasps of joy, or even an emotional tear to the eye. We try to instill a sense of family and tradition in the children whenever possible and these holidays always bring us close and reinforce our ties to each other. Discussions always tend to lean towards which of us have similar traits in the family. Why all the girls are strong willed, stubborn and hard working, why most of the men are very bright, have similar interests, but tend to lack ambition. I love to hear stories about the past. My Grandmother likes to recount how things were when she was young, the hard times, and the good times. She retells funny stories about her children, myself, siblings, and my cousins, and her experiences with her Great Grandchildren. Some people might find themselves bored by these tales, but I love them. There is something very comforting in hearing these little reminiscences told again and again, always with a sparkle in her eye and a smile on her face. My Grandmother should have been a writer. She has made up stories for many of her Grandchildren and Great-Grandchildren and has inspired us all with her great imagination and love of the written word. Nana is a very wise woman in my eyes. I don’t think she realizes how much she has influenced her family simply by sharing the knowledge and experiences of her own life with us. Hope everyone enjoyed Christmas with their family as much as I did with mine.

I am a married Mom to three teen/young adult children and an Early Childhood Educator by profession.