Monthly Archives: October 2010

My Family - Big Dad's Side. (Sadly, several of the cousins couldn't be there for the photo.)

Even though last week was incredibly difficult, through all the tears one thing became blatantly clear: I have an amazing family. Losing our Gumpo so unexpectedly was very hard, but we all pulled together and supported each other through the week.

And it wasn’t all sad. There were moments last week where I laughed harder than I have in a long time.

Many stories were told, memories shared, and there was Princess Pea.

My little niece is growing older and getting bigger, and in the process her personality is developing and she is absolutely hilarious. She is also pretty clear about what she likes and doesn’t like.

And right now, she loves The Wiggles.

Until a few weeks ago, I had never heard of The Wiggles. I grew up with Sesame Street, Polka Dot Door, Today’s Special and The Elephant Show… and The Wiggles is an Australian show that’s a little newer to the kid scene. It’s four men who sing songs, go on adventures in a big red car and eat lots of fruit salad (and sometimes creep me out). I knew that Peeah was “enjoying” The Wiggles on repeat, but until last Wednesday I was blissfully unaware of their TV show.

Peeah had to work last Wednesday, so I happily offered to babysit Pea during the day. Want to know what we did?

We danced. We ate. We napped.

…and we Wiggled.

It's Wiggle Time.

(I took this just after she finished breakfast, hence the no shirt. I promise that she didn’t stand in front of the TV like that all day, she was just so excited to get out of her high chair and wiggle that she ran straight for the TV. And I laughed hysterically and had to capture it on film.)

Peeah left me two DVDs to put on in the background for Pea, who loves the music. I just didn’t realize how much until that day.

We watched them over, and over, and over… and let me tell you, they get better every time. I have them all memorized. Try me. I can sing The Wiggles on command.

You’ll notice that in the above picture she has some very pretty, very sparkly shoes on.

She is definitely my niece.

These are her “dancing shoes”. Peeah bought them a little while ago, and even though they are a little bit big for her, Pea loves them. If she finds them, she runs around with them in her hands until she gets you to put them on her, and then… she dances. It’s actually looks more like a chicken trying to jump, but she looks so cute when she does it.

And so, that was our day. We ate, danced, and Wiggled. And I memorized every song on those DVDs, as has most of our family.

Flash forward two days: my Gumpo’s funeral service has ended and we are all sitting together as many family members and friends mingle and enjoy refreshments. We are sitting in two rows facing each other, and Pea is running around in the middle, being her cute self. She was beginning to get tired, so my brother-in-law started to try and amuse her. After trying a couple of tricks, he started quietly singing one of the songs from The Wiggles, hoping to engage her.

Instead, he engaged all of us.

As he sang the first words, “Everybody Clap!” we all responded with the corresponding three claps from the song. He continued, “Everybody sing!” and we all echoed the corresponding “La la la la la!” before bursting into laughter.

It was maybe a silly little moment that no one else really noticed or thought anything of, but it was such a pick-me-up that day. It made me love my family even more than I already did. In an attempt to entertain our niece my family created a moment that I’ll remember forever.

…and I know I’ll remember it forever because that song has been stuck in my head ever since.

Enjoy. haha

Bear is now asleep… Shh! Shh! Shh!

Last Monday I got one of those phone calls that you hope never to get.

It’s taken me a week to be able to write about it, and I’m still not sure that I have the right words. But I find myself wanting to talk about it… needing to talk about it.

When my phone rang just before 3pm, my fridge was full of food ready for me to make our lovely Thanksgiving dinner. I was sitting at my desk, doing nothing in particular when Peeah’s ringer began to play. I thought it was a bit odd that she was calling me right then, but I assumed it was to gave me a hard time for skipping our family Thanksgiving dinner the day before.

When I answered I could barely understand her. She was sobbing, and she said “Gumpo died” three times before I understood the meaning of what she was telling me. She didn’t know many of the details, only that there had been an accident. I told her I was on my way before hanging up the phone and collapsing in a heap in my chair, the Hubster’s arms around me as I began to weep.

It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

He held me together until I could get to my feet, and I began flying around my apartment, throwing things into a duffel bag. I didn’t know what I was packing, or for how long, but I needed my family. Within the hour I was on a bus to meet Choppy, and we went home together.

Teep picked us up at the bus station, and the three of us tried to piece together the bits of information we had found out from family members. My Dad’s father had been out in the bush cutting wood with my dad, uncle and cousins, a chore he loved and had been doing for years. While pulling a load of wood in a trailer on his beloved ATV (“Big Blue”) it had somehow flipped and landed on him.

Other than that, it was still a blur. And it wasn’t real.

My parents, and my siblings that were close enough immediately left for Muskoka to be with my Grammy as soon as we heard. Six of my Dad’s siblings had already arrived, and the last was boarding a flight to be there by the time the sun rose the next day. Choppy, Teep (and his girlfriend, M) and I made it home shortly before the rest of my family did, and it was then that we tried to face that this was a reality. We all sat in my parent’s living room and talked about the accident, my grandmother, funeral arrangements and other things that were all too overwhelming to comprehend.

I went to bed, and I cried.

It was real.

The next morning Choppy and I traveled to Muskoka with my parents so that my Dad and his brothers and sisters could make arrangements with the funeral home. Family continued to trickle in throughout the day, as did details of the accident. My uncle, who was there that day, walked us to the woods to show us the accident site so we could try and understand what happened. Something had caused him to turn up a small embankment and strike a tree, which in turn caused the ATV to flip. At 81 he was still a force of nature, but his reflexes weren’t as good as they used to be and we can only assume he wasn’t able to jump clear. He fell, and the ATV fell on his chest, killing him instantly.

I’ll always wonder what caused him to leave his trail… no one knew those woods better than he did, and most of my childhood memories with my Gumpo involve ATVs and rides on “Big Blue”.

That night, after all the arrangements had been made, I spent some time with my Dad’s family. Through the tears, some wonderful stories were told and we began to laugh again. We drove home late that night, and I was exhausted.

I didn’t remember how hard it was.

The visitations were on Thursday. By this time ninety percent of my family had arrived and we gathered at the funeral home. The first visitation was hard. I wasn’t able to make it up to the casket to say goodbye, being in the same room with him was hard enough, and I knew I couldn’t go alone.

The Hubster and Doodle arrived in time for the second visitation, and the Hubs walked with me to the casket and held me tight so that I could say goodbye to my Grandfather–my Gumpo. It was so strange… I felt terrible, but I could think was, “This isn’t really him. His face isn’t right. Gumpo would be smiling or smirking or ready with a witty quip.” As I wept the Hubster held me close and my Dad came up and squeezed my shoulder tightly.

Friday dawned a beautiful, sunny fall morning as we drove back to Muskoka for the funeral. It was one of the most beautiful mornings I have experienced in a long time… the sky was clear, and it was as if a paintbrush had swept across the trees and painted them in beautiful reds, yellows and oranges. It was peaceful.

As my family assembled together, I realized that this was the first time in years that we had all been together. My Grammy and all of her eight children, with their spouses and children had come together to celebrate the life of my Gumpo. People had traveled from Alberta, British Columbia, Utah, and all across Ontario to be together. Every single one of the 26 grandchildren and great grandchildren were there with their parents. And it was wonderful.

The service was incredibly hard, but incredibly beautiful. My sister, Spart, began the service with a moving memorial video with photos and footage of my Gumpo. My uncle, the oldest son, delivered a beautiful eulogy that captured the man that my Gumpo had been in his earlier years, as well as the man that he had become as he became a grandfather and found peace in his life. Each one of the children shared memories and a tribute that brought both tears and roars of laughter. It concluded with a beautiful message about how families can be forever.

After the service, the hundreds of people who had come to honor his memory stayed and shared stories of how he had touched their life before we left to have a private family graveside service… a chance to say one last goodbye.

Each member of our family–all 40+ of us–took a moment to place a rose in his grave as my family began to sing “Families Can Be Together Forever”, a well-known hymn in my church. My Dad stood with one arm around my mom, and the other hanging on to me.

Eye make-up was probably not a good idea for that day.

…and then, it was over. I hugged my Grammy for dear life and sobbed as she told me how proud my Gumpo was of me. We walked back to our cars, and drove back to her house to spend some time together.

After all the tears, it was time to laugh. By the time we made it back to the house my aunts and uncles were already in comfy clothes and their pajamas, exhausted after a long week. We snacked on unhealthy food and gathered around tables, telling stories. It was a side of my family I hadn’t really seen before–we’ve always been close, but this week really seemed to pull us all together. My aunts and uncles drew back from their childhood, telling stories I had never heard that left us all laughing until it hurt.

We collapsed in chairs, on couches, on the floor–not caring about space, but just wanting to be together. No one seemed to want to be the first to leave.

And then it was time to go. I had planned to travel home that night, but I was so tired, and if I’m being honest, I wasn’t ready. I needed one more day with my family. We drove home, but as tired as we all were, Mom, Big Dad, Doodle, Spart and I crowded around the table for a game of Uno. Doodle left first, then Mom went to bed. I thought Dad would be right behind her, but he, Spart and I ended up throwing a movie on and staying up way to late.

And by “staying up late”, I mean I fell asleep on the couch next to my dad 5 minutes after the movie started.

I meant to leave first thing in the morning, but then we all decided to have lunch together. Princess Pea stole the show.

By 2pm I knew it was time to leave… so I packed the car, gave Big Dad one last hug, then drove home. It’s been a whirlwind of cleaning, unpacking, church and work since then, and it’s really starting to sink in.

This is real.

On Thanksgiving Monday–October 11th–my Gumpo had an accident and died. I can finally say it without wanting to burst into tears, but it doesn’t do anything to heal the ache in my heart. I hate that I didn’t see him before he died. I know there’s no way that I could have known, but the guilt is terrible. I know it will take time.

I also know that I’ll see him again someday, and that knowledge helps in so many ways.

Until then, I miss you, Gumpo. More than words can say. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.

My Gumpo*

I love you.

Book Club Girlies*

A little over a year ago I wrote this post about girl friends. While it was just me venting my sadness over my lack thereof, the response I received was overwhelming and I realized that I was not the only woman out there who felt that way.

Still, I didn’t really do anything about it. I met a few people over the course of the next few months, but I am terrible at trying to organize outings. I have never felt comfortable as a “host”, and I always feel like it’s my fault if people don’t have a fabulous time at something I’ve suggested.

*sigh*

Anyway, by November of last year I decided it was time to actually do something about it. As much as I enjoy spending time with the Hubster, girlfriends are just… different. And it’s important to have them.

So, I did what any enthusiastic, book-loving, new English-teacher would do: I started a book club.

Well, I tried to. I found out that one of my most favourite people from my Hippie U days lived on the same side of The City that I did, and she loves books almost as much as I do (although she’d probably dispute that. haha) so after catching up one night, we thought a book club was a marvellous idea.

I was so excited about it.

Nerd confession: I have always, always wanted to be in a book club. When I saw The Jane Austen Book Club, my heart melted. I wanted that.

So, when the idea came up in our conversation, I jumped all over it and assumed that everyone would be just as excited as we were. She invited a few friends, and I invited a girl that I had just recently met through a course I was taking at a local college. It started off beautifully–through messages on Facebook, we chose our first book, and got to reading.

Sadly, it never got beyond that. We were never able to find an evening to meet, not everyone read the book, and things kind of fell apart before they ever got started. I’m not going to lie, I was really sad about it. I mean, I was so close.

*sigh*

By March I was still riding that same wave of loneliness that had rushed over me last summer when I wrote that post. So, with a little gentle encouragement from the Hubster, I decided to be proactive and give it one more try. I still hadn’t given up on the dream of a book club, and I thought it might be the easiest way to connect people that may not know each other, so I decided to try and feel it out.

This time, I went through my Facebook and messaged every single girl under 30 that I knew lived in a 30km radius and put forth the idea of the book club. I crossed my fingers that all these women wouldn’t laugh at my nerdiness and hoped that at least a few of them might entertain the idea.

Almost all of them wrote back, and almost every single one that did was interested. I knew that for many of them, their interest may not ever extend beyond that message, but I was ecstatic.

I set up an evening to get together, and hoped that I wouldn’t be sitting alone in the restaurant. I knew it would be tricky because at the time, I was the only connection for most of these girls. They all knew me, but not each other.

I just hoped they’d come anyway.

I think there were four or five of us that first night. It was a little awkward at first, but everyone seemed to get along well and we decided to go ahead and pick our first book. We started off with “Handle With Care” by Jodi Picoult.

I was so excited that I ran home to make a Facebook event detailing our first book (yes, I’m a loser like that) and invited everyone, even the girls who hadn’t made it to our little meet and greet. I was positive it was going to be a success. We decided to meet once a month, and I could barely wait four more weeks to meet again.

There were only three of us at our first real “meeting”. Even though it was still nice to go out, I couldn’t help but wonder: was this one going to fail too? Maybe I just wasn’t meant to do the “girlfriend” thing.

Despite our small numbers, I chose another book and we set another date. More people RSVP’d for our second meeting, but at the last minute my boss scheduled me for a shift I never worked that happened to conflict with Book Club. I messaged all the girls to tell them they could go ahead without me, but they were all uncomfortable with the idea as they still didn’t really know each other well yet.

I was pretty sure that the whole thing was going to fall apart, but I set another date anyway.

More people came. For the next month, I asked someone else to choose the book and the location, and we slowly formed a core group of girls who seemed to love the idea of a book club as much as I did. We were still a tiny group, but it was happening.

Month after month our group got a little stronger, and a little bigger. One day I received an unexpected message from a friend who lives an hour away, asking if she could join. Then someone else, a friend of another girl in the group, asked if she could join. We took that above photo at our August meeting, and we’ve since had two new lovely ladies join our group. Before I knew it our little book club had taken off and we were not only discussing books, but turning it into a lovely girl’s night.

A girl’s night that we’ve since decided needs to happen more than just once a month.

We are now on our 6th book, and it’s an evening I look forward to all month. When I sent out those messages last March, it was all on a whim, hoping that I might get one or two people interested. But what came from it has been so much better than that–I finally found my group. I don’t feel like I’m the one “looking in” anymore.

I found my girls. And they are absolutely fabulous. xo

Bullying is abuse, regardless of age.

Let’s all do our part and stop this senseless cycle of abuse. Children and teens should have the right to feel secure and loved as they begin their journey to discover who they are, whoever that may be.

Thanks for this, Ellen. I heart you. xo