Monthly Archives: November 2024

Things I Cannot Change

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I am enjoying Katherine May’s Wintering, the Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times. It reads to me as I am going through this difficult passage in my life. Her thoughts are my thoughts. Her feelings are my feelings. It is very strange how the book came into my awareness. Someone up/out there knows I need a little help. I did beseeched my mother if she could just give me a little help here. I know she’s up there.

I find myself bartering with the powers that be that if I could come out the other side of this, I would be ever so good. Have you ever done that? I take some deep breaths, position my hands on the keyboard and try to find words and sentences to heal myself. The Serenity Prayer came to mind.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference.

The words are calming, giving me confidence. I am accepting the things I cannot change. I am doing what I can to help myself. Now I have to chill and not waste my energy in ways that will not help me. I am remembering St. Teresa of Avila’s prayer that have always been so comforting.


Let nothing disturb you,
let nothing frighten you,
all things will pass away.
God never changes;
patience obtains all things,
whoever has God lacks nothing.
God alone suffices. Amen.

Sunrise, Sunset

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Life surely is hard. I wonder how any of us can survive it, but we do. There is no choice. I had given myself permission to check out for awhile. There was no other choice. Now it is time to check back in. I am starting my days with my qigong practice of 18 movements. It begins with a sunrise and ends with a sunset. The in-between movements can be done in any order. I like to keep the same order as it is easier to remember.

It’s only five and a half weeks since my mother’s passing. She left on a warm October day. Her flowerbeds were still blooming with marigolds, petunias and snapdragons. She saw the sunrise and the sunset. She left in the evening, well before midnight. She was always thoughtful in that way, not wanting to cause us too much trouble.

I have not had much time to process her leaving. There was so much to do. There was my father’s grief and health to tend to. Then there was mine. You can’t get out of Dodge very fast or easily, especially when you are not Wyatt Earp with a speedy horse. So we’ve limped along slowly but surely. I think we are out of the danger zone into recovery now. One slow day at a time.

Saturday Chatter (#NaBloPoMo)

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Tomorrow will be 3 weeks since my mother left this earth. I’m not sure it feels real yet. When I wake in the morning, I feel a vacuum in my heart. It leaves me breathless, grasping at straws. How does one fill the space? How is one suppose to proceed? Not having a handbook to go by, I have to find my own way.

I proceed as usual, according to my motto by Regina Brett – No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up. It’s a good way to start the day. Since I am not one for punishment, I’m working on ways to comfort and ease myself through this period of mourning. I find it restful to sit with my cuppa in silence and the morning darkness. Then I went through the 18 movements of a qigong practice I had started years ago. They’ve been neglected for a long while. They came back after a couple of days. Pain and suffering called them back.

Sometimes it is hard to go out in the world. I am unsure and jittery just stepping out of the house. I do it anyways. It is hard backing the car out of the garage. It is hard to drive it anywhere. My nerves are raw. I talk them down. My senses are altered. I take it slower. But it is good for me to venture forth this morning, to meet my dear friends for breakfast. They are the glue that holds me together.

My guy is the other glue. We went to see an art exhibit in the afternoon. It would be hard for me to navigate a crowd on my own. The art collection was by my art instructor. Her work is beautiful. She’s so talented and such a good teacher. She’s also very warm, kind and generous. The show was at the art store where we feel a small part of its community. It was all good for my soul.

Meditation Friday (#NaBloPoMo)

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I’m struggling along this road of life, waking up in the dark of another November morning. I’m not at all steady and confident. I have fears and anxieties. Are they one and the same? It does not matter. You get my drift. I am not leaping with joy. I get up anyways, put on my pink fuzzy housecoat, turn up the furnace and head towards my bathroom. Another day of showing up and doing my best no matter what.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not feeling terrible. I am neither happy nor unhappy. I’m in that grey zone of resting and just observing. This morning I sat with my cuppa in the morning darkness, trying not to think, trying not to feel. I’m trying to cleanse my mind and body, letting go of the debris. It works for my computer. When I got rid of all my sites on my browser except the one I’m working on, it works much better and faster. Multi tasking is not good for us/me. Feeling too much is not good for me.

Slow tapping is good for me. I’m enjoying sitting here with it, my fingers on the keyboard, my feet vibrating on Dr. Ho’s Motionciser. I’m exercising fingers and feet. Not yet ready for more. The sun is out. It is 8℃ out. Maybe I will go and have a cuppa in front of the woodstove and catch some rays and serontonin. If I get cold, I can duck into the greenhouse to warm up.

Thursday (#NaBloPoMo)

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You can tell I’m tired and uninspired by the title of this post. I haven’t really realized what a mess I am and what a mess I’m in till the last few days. I woke up and saw everything after my mother died. These past weeks were busy taking care of the business of her passing. I was surviving on adrenaline.

Now I have to get into the business of my own life. I haven’t thought about that for a long time, that I had a separate life. There was just the 2 of us for the first 6 years of my life. My parents married when they were one month shy of 18. They were still babies in an arranged marriage. My father was still going to school. That was how it was in China then. When I was 2, my father immigrated to Canada. I had no memories of him during those 2 years.

I did not meet him till I was 6 when my mother and I reunited with him in Hong Kong. He stayed for a year. My sister was conceived and born. I have no memories of my father during that time either except that I was reprimanded for not calling this stranger ‘father’. My sister was almost 2 when we joined him in Canada.

My mother did not know English. Being in a small town in Saskatchewan there were little resources in learning for immigrants back in those days. My father was busy in the cafe earning a living for us. My mother had no one to talk to except me. So that is how I became my mother’s confidante. She was a very good story teller. The times she lived through had many stories. Her family had a very interesting history. I heard them all and more besides. I am sure I became part of my mother with all her feelings of hope, happiness but fears and anxieties as well.

Now comes the challenging part for me – to unravel all of that and put them to rest. I need to to do that to find myself and my own life.

Wednesday (#NaBloPoMo)

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It’s Wednesday, the day after Tuesday, the day after the US election. Donald Trump triumphs again. It’s surprising that so many American women are rejoicing and singing such high praises for him. We humans are such mysteries. I’m starting to get it now. It’s no use trying to figure it out, to understand. The only recourse is to accept that each of us are different. We feel, see, hear and interpret the world through different senses.

It’s been such a grey morning. What I do best feeling grey is drink and drink tea and decaf. It makes me feel better because I’m doing and moving. I’m putting the kettle on and fixing my cuppa. Then I have to go to the bathroom a few times. Any motion is good. I am not stagnant. The sun just came out. Though its rays are weak, I still feel lighter and not so dark.

I’m happy that I am able to tap out some words each day for the National Blog Posting Month (#NaBloPoMo). It helps release thoughts and feelings going round and round in my head. This exercise helps me to find understanding and work out solutions. It’s helping me out the door though I’m a bit shaky and wobbly. I’m feeling very vulnerable. But I’m out there – driving and not getting lost.

We Are All the Same

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Photo by Leeloo The First on Pexels.com

It is hard to know what to do with myself in the darkness of a November morning. I am at my keyboard tapping out my thoughts for the National Blog Posting Month. I don’t have it in me to write a novel in a month. I’ve tried and failed each time. A few mutterings will suffice. It will help me to breathe in and out. Difficult times and feelings are not strangers to me.

This human experience is not easy. Life is not for the faint of heart. It gives and then it takes away. I wonder how I can survive the loss without my mother. She was always there in her house down the block. We’ve always had her love as she had ours. She was presence. I have to remember that this journey is not unique to just me. We all travel the same road. We all are given this gift of life and suffer the grief of loss. We are all the same though we may experience it in different ways.

My house is not as clean and orderly as my mother’s. I’ve never had her knack. It is full of clutter and dust. I guess I’m drowning in my disorder physically and psychologically. I’m keeping my head just above the water. This writing helps sort and organize the mess in my head. I’ve rescued my pot of broth from the deck. It’s heating up on the stove to make something for lunch. After lunch my father, my brother and I will go to the bank to sign papers. Life goes on, one step at a time.

The Third Week

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It’s the Monday after the Sunday night 2 weeks after mom has gone. I’m starting the 3rd week without her. It feels unreal. It feels like she’s still here, just a half a block down the street. I still expect the phone to ring. I would pick it up and it would be mom giving me her grocery list. Or I would think, I have to ask mom. Now, sometimes I hesitate to look at her photos, afraid that she wouldn’t be there. When I do look, she is still my same mom.

Today, I went over to vacuum for dad. My brother and niece had taken him out. I was in mom’s house by myself. It still feels light and bright as always. Not too much to vacuum up except a little in the kitchen. Not much dust anywhere except in dad’s room. All the windows and screens looked clean. I wonder if mom’s been back, cleaning and dusting. She was always meticulously clean and tidy even up to her last moments.

I was almost finished when my dad returned. He said that my brother and niece had taken him to Market Mall, brought flowers, coffees and muffins and drove out to lay flowers for mom. He is full of grieve and weeping. What can I say or do? Some words of comfort? He has lived longer than me. I try to console. The reality is, this is something none of us can escape. I tell him mom is still here, looking over him. And we, his children are also suffering and grieving for our mother. It is early. Only 2 weeks ago. Time will ease the sorrow. We are all ok, doing the best we can, looking out for each other.

I’m writing for the National Blog Posting Month. It gives me one goal a day. It keeps me a little sane.

Navigating the Early Days

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Photo by Binti Malu on Pexels.com

Early November mornings can get me down. It is so dark at 7 am. The sun did not rise till 8:07 Saskatoon time. I’m basking in its glow in the warmth of my sunroom. I’m sitting in front of my keyboard with my second cup of tea. My mother is watching over my right shoulder. Tonight will be 2 weeks since she’s left her earthly body. I’m sure she was greeted by Sheba at the gate, tail wagging and looking for her treat.

I do not yet know how to feel or how to start each day. I feel she’s still in her house with dad. I still see her face in my head. I still want to say “I’m going to mom’s”. I feel the loss of her upon waking in the dark of autumn mornings. I feel ok at night going to bed, knowing I don’t have to worry about her at night. Most nights I can sleep without a sleeping pill though I wake between 3 and 4 am. Now I can make myself stay in bed till 6. It’s better to stay and perhaps to fall back asleep again.

I am fortunate that I have the tools of words. I have always found relief in spilling onto the page. I haven’t found my way back to meditating yet but yesterday I did some qigong movements. Having neglected them so long, I couldn’t remembered them all. Fumbling and flailing works. I was moving. They will come back in time as surely as grief will recede. I ran into 2 of my mother’s friends the other day. We hugged and got misty eyed together. Both are widows of many years. One shared that it took her 3 years after losing her husband to feel ok again.

Though I am no stranger death and grief, it is my first at such a personal level. I’ve lost grandparents and other relatives and friends. I felt the sadness and loss. But it wasn’t the same. I have gotten off relatively easy. With my mother, I was still tied as if by the umbilical cord. I felt what she felt. At different times, like when I am at the kitchen sink, I’ve felt as if I was her. Have you ever had that phenomenon?

Enough words already for today. I have to move on with the day. Shake myself loose with some qigong and try to clear my growing clutter. Later, my sister and I are taking our father out for dim sum. He’s doing ok. We are taking good care of him.

National Blog Posting Month

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November can be a bleak month but it is also National Blog Posting Month. So I will blog the bleakness away. I missed day 1 yesterday. I was visited by a darkness that drained my energy. I wasn’t paying attention. I was naive and left myself wide open. I’ve made a nice recovery. My atennas are up and functioning. I will not let anyone’s darkness in.

I think of mom in the morning. We watched the sun rise. I made my steelcut oats in the microwave, added a bit of coconut oil, a few haskaps and pecans. It was tasty and filled me with warmth. Then I read a few pages of the murder mystery book from the library. Charlotte Vassell’s The In Crowd is pretty engaging. It takes my mind off things that needed to be offed, at least for a little while.

I have a load of laundry on the go. The breakfast dishes are done. I had a pileup yesterday that took me forever. I like to manual wash. It feels like I’m washing off the grime from yesterday. It feels like cleaning off evil. Now it’s time for lunch. And I have laundry to hang up. Not a novel and not much of a post, but it is something.