Life is Your Story

Do you ever catch yourself in that perfect moment when you  are conscious of breathing? Making love, being held, sleeping on a hammock in the shade with your arms wrapped around your lover, walking in the silence of the forest with your dog. Do you ever breathe through someone else? Their lips dancing across your body awakening every molecule of your being. Have you ever breathed for a family member, a loved one as they sat bent and broken; their head to their knees looking down because they could not find their way up?  Do you ever breathe through your art? Your creative spirit taking you to places you have never been while it whispers in your ear “This is where you paint, sculpt, draw - this is where you share your craft - your gift with others.” And your masterpiece, a wedge of your soul, whisks them away in it's beauty and they are reminded to stop and breathe. Have you ever sat by the bed of an aging parent and breathed for them for all the times th

We all share pain The way we share love The way we share ourselves We all feel pain Some of us more than others We all understand pain We've all met pain Walked around the block with pain Joined it for coffee and a cigarette We all fear pain And loath pain And wish it would let us be No one should be alone in pain But so many are Pain visits us throughout our lives It's there at the end To remind us Of the good parts The sunsets The sunrises The kisses Being held Being loved We drift off Say goodbye Follow the steps Of one last dance And pray Wherever we go There is no such thing As pain

How do you comfort your mom after your dad passes away? How do you convince her that everything is going to be alright when you are unable to convince yourself? How do you expect her to just move on after having having spent most of her life with the same person? He was her best friend. They loved each other, they hated each other, they put up with one another, they ate breakfast together, they ate dinner together – he asked “how was your day?” and she asked “how was your day?” and other times they ate in silence. They forgave and forgot, they gave and they took, there was hurt and pain and joy and laughter. There was all that life could throw at them and all that they withstood as a united and powerful force created from love and devotion. They sacrificed for you and your siblings as all good parents do in wanting more for you than they had for themselves. They made a promise – in sickness and in health – knowing one would eventually fall ill while the other w

My mother has always said that the sweetest time in her life was when we were little and she held us in her arms. We would rap our hands around her neck and stare up into her eyes and watch her lips as she spoke and it was the purest form of love and affection one could find in this life. But what happens when children grow up, move out and starts lives of their own? What happens when they end up living in another city or country? Well, they have no choice but to learn to have less of us. They suffer inside because they are not able to witness all of the magical moments in our lives on a daily basis. Their Grandchildren come into the world and although they may be there for the day they are born and the celebrations thereafter, sooner or later they have to return home. The distance feels like a million miles away and every moment they miss will never be repeated. I wonder how many parents keep secrets in regard to the status of their health – mental and physical from the

What will you remember about your life when all is said and done? Will it be the people who accompanied you on your journey? Will it be the places you explored and traveled to along the way? Will it be a cat or a dog that showed you the meaning of true friendship? Will it be the last word spoken to you by someone you will never get to speak to again? What would you choose to remember if your memory could be wiped clean of just one thing that happened to you in your entire life? Would it be the fist time your parents told you they loved you? Would it be the first time you realized you loved yourself? Would it be the first time you held your child? Would it be the first lips that brushed against yours? Who would you choose to remember? What would you say to them, if you could have them there right in front of you for just a few moments? Isn't it amazing how much detail we are capable of remembering when we shut out all the noise, close our eyes, and feel

Our parent’s age and they either go suddenly or slowly – either way is awful. And as much as we prepare ourselves for the obvious inevitability; we are never ready to say goodbye. I would say the worst thing by far is witnessing their demise. When they first become ill, injured or otherwise incapacitated, they are still themselves but as it drags on and drags everyone along with it, the family is left exhausted, spent and staring at a petrified, confused stranger in a hospital bed who use to be their parent. There are medical professionals who are very kind and do all they can.   It’s important to realize that every patient who is admitted to their floor is followed by a long parade of characters consisting of family members all with their own personalities and idiosyncrasies, opinions and demands. They are upset, tired and fed up and that can make for a very unpleasant atmosphere for all. It is hard to remain neutral when you find your loved one curled up, shivering i

If there is one day we all hope will never come, it's the one where our life partner has to be taken from us whether in life or in death. However it is all so common with the increase in Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, Cancers of every sort, that one of the two has to be hospitalized and evaluated and most always, inevitably the call is made by medical professionals who are doing their best but have far too many aging patients to monitor and evaluate and far too few specialists available to support them and so the call is that the said parent will never return to their home again. This crossroad means so many different and sad things to various family members. So I will use the Dad as an example. Your Dad has been told that he will never regain his independence - perhaps he can no longer walk or go without diapers or oxygen. Maybe he has a progressive disease that is moving at rampant rates. He is already frail, depressed and practically throwing in the towel after months t

So I recently spent 3 days in the ER of a local Montreal hospital with a loved one who was in a ski accident. I myself along with everyone in my family and many friends have spent some time in an ER. It's not a place you want to be and well, chances are you've been there too so that is something you already know. One of the first things I noticed was how many elderly women (majority to men) there were lying in the beds behind or not behind curtains, alone and afraid. Whose mothers, grandmothers, relatives are these people and where are their visitors? Why are they alone in the ER without anyone to offer them support or advocate on their behalf? Maybe I'm just too idealistic and have to come to the realization that not everyone has someone to care for them. There are people who are alone in this world even if they are not actually alone. Montreal is a prime example of a Canadian (as it is so common in the USA) city in which the vast majority of Anglophone child

Unfortunately and inevitably we find ourselves in a position of caring for our parents at the same time as we are parents ourselves. This stage of life and/or phenomena has been known as the "Sandwich Generation." It's painful to watch your parents grow old and become less autonomous, less able to make choices and care for themselves fully. It's tragic when one of your parents dies leaving the other behind. For the first time in 30, 40, 50 years their best friend is no longer by their side. They won't be at the breakfast table in the morning discussing all the things they have to do and planning for the weekend ahead when they will babysit their grandchildren, watch a movie and go out for Brunch. They won't be jotting down the never ending doctor's appointments that they go to together and the list for the pharmacy. They won't be ordering in their favourite food and watching the Oscars. Imagine losing the person closest in the world to you. You lo

It creeps in slowly and tactfully, systematically erasing the images and memories that make up the scrapbook of your life. It floods your foundation causing deep cracks and crevices and it crawls into the well lit tunnels that send messages that guide you in how to chew, swallow, speak, walk and think and it darkens them with its filthy dirt. It confuses, mystifies and destroys. It holds you hostage and when your loved ones try to free you, it throws you into solitary confinement - no trial, no jury, just a corrupt judge, hammer down on an iron table. Yet day in, day out, they return hoping to find a trace of you. They need to do something that makes them feel like they are doing something. So they brush your hair, rub lotion on your arms and back, buy you new slippers. They nurture and nourish you with your favourite food that they prepare when they return home because they can't sleep and they need to feel like they are doing something, anything that may make a differenc