Thank You For Being You

Nothing will ever replace my husband's gentle kiss, the encouraging touch of his hand or the sweet "I love you" he would express each and everyday. Our love is what many dream of. I truly believe the deeper the love the more agonizing the grief. Since Ron's diagnosis it has been a very difficult and trying journey.  Ron, my greatest teacher in life has been my greatest inspiration. His spirit, his zest for life and his love of adventure are what help me start the day and your love, kindness and compassion move me through the day. For what you have done my words of gratitude would be less than sufficient.  For your encouragement and support I will be forever grateful. For what you have taught me I will be a better person.

I Believe

These past couple of weeks I have given a lot of attention to ‘things’.  Things like  superfluous items on the boat, switching summer clothes for winter and all the sympathy cards that I have received. 

After Ron’s Celebration I sat and read each and every card.  I then placed them in a bowl.  This bowl has significant meaning.  It is our last anniversary gift to each other.  The bowl, carved by the master carver Sanford Williams of Yuquot, Nootka Island is adorned with hummingbirds.  The bowl was designed to be used for items such as fruit, nuts, chips, etcetera.  It was not designed for sympathy cards. 

This week, I read each and every one of your cards again.  When reading the cards, I cherished the kind words that honoured Ron and the grateful words of encouragement.  The poems and quotes imprinted on the cards were profound – some sad, some uplifting and, some encouraging – all true.  I am so proud of my husband.  He was an exceptional co-worker, a true friend and a caring neighbor.  All this came through loud and clear again – it is written in the cards. 

The cards.  Regardless of the messages written within, I could not bring myself to keep them any longer.  Looking at them in our anniversary bowl, they brought me not comfort but despair.  Me and the cards parted ways.  I truly hope you understand.

Next item that deserved my attention were much deserved and overdue thank you cards.  I had been thinking about this task for months but could not bring myself to tackle it.  Simply put, it was too painful to even think about it.  As soon as I started to craft the message or choose the picture I shut down.  I walked away from the computer.  This week I conquered the challenge. 

This challenge, as with reading the sympathy cards, brought the emotion to the surface.  I worked on the thank you cards for five days before I felt I had chosen the perfect picture and created a sincere message.  I cried while dropping the cards in the mail, I cried delivering them to specific locations.   Ron’s work place, for instance.  I had intended to ask for Cheryl.  As soon as I drove to the building I knew I could not do it.  I left the cards with security to deliver on my behalf.  It was tough, tough because it is another act of acceptance that Ron is no longer here with me. 

I believe… I believe that time will heal.  I believe that there are people out there who are suffering more that I am from their own set of circumstances.  I believe I have a bright future.  I believe that I will be better than OK.  

Searching. Not Running

Ron used to tell me that I think too much.  I used to tell Ron he did things without thinking.  Perhaps that is why we made such a good match.  Ying and Yang, Gracie and George, Mutt and Jeff you get it.

I have been doing a lot of thinking, so much so that sometimes my head hurts.  People will say things to me.  These questions and comments cause me to think and think some more – ‘What are you running from?’  ‘ How are you doing?’  ‘What are your plans?’  ‘When do you go back to work?’ ‘You don’t have anything holding you back.’ ‘You will be fine, give it time.’  ‘Take time to heal’ and so on and so on and so on.

Upon reflection of the past seven months I have come to realize that I have tried to take grief by the horns and wrestle it away.  I put a time constraint on when I should have been back to normal.  First of all, Ron and I never knew what normal was so why would I know what it is now.  I beat myself up for not having finished grieving and clearly moved on.  In July it was like I had to start over again.

 

I have also realized that my past experience with people who have lost a spouse has been minimal.  Nobody really teaches us about grief.  I do exactly what they have done.  I put on my happy face, I dress to feel good and out I go.  The optics are that I am OK.  That is good because that is what I want you to see.  Often it is like I am playing a role. 

The reality is that behind closed doors, or in my case below decks, you have no idea.  I have shed enough tears to sink Ta Daa.  I have agonized over why.  Why Ron?  Why now?  I have writhed in the pain of a wounded heart and soul.  My eyes have been opened not by what others have said or done but by my own gut wrenching experience of losing my beloved Ron. 

Since our first date, Ron and I always had a plan.  In fact, we had Plan A, Plan B, Plan C  D E F... Z.  With a blended family of four kids, more than one plan was necessary.  Ultimately our plan was to sail around the world.  It is out of character for me not to have a plan or a goal. It is unnerving.  The truth about a plan is that I am at wits end without one but at the same time afeared of making a plan.  I am afraid of making unwise choices.  I am afraid of commitment to a plan.  I am afraid of letting people down.  The other reality is that nothing entices me.  My heart and soul are hollow and empty.  There is not an ounce of passion in my bones.  The only things that have brought me pure joy are the children in my life, being out on the boat and Winston.   I do believe that passion will return I just do not know when.  Until then, I will continue to fill my days.  I will continue to put myself out there. 

 

I have come to realize that everything connected to me and Ron has a story.  More often than not it was a funny story.  It may have not have started out humorous but we made it so.  Why?  Because were Ron and Janice.  It is what we did.  You could point to almost anything on the boat and I could tell you a story.  From the solar panel arch to the wine glasses to our wedding vows in Hawaii.  Lately on the boat I feel the stories.  I miss making new stories with Ron.  I miss it so much so that when I look at something, I am whisked away by its story and then I cry my eyes out.

 

Where I am going with all this is that my life is one huge void.  I am missing Ron, the touch of his hand, his love, his romance, his smile, his laughter, our laughter, our conversations.  The abyss feels vacant and endless. I have not been running; I have been searching.  Searching for something to fill the void.  

Pirates In Port Townsend

I am having a peaceful time in Port Townsend.  Winston and I have been walking a lot and I even went for a run.  Considering that I have a half marathon to run in less than a month I had better get my buns moving more often, farther and faster.

While in Desolation Sound, a friend who shall not be named, had a few vodka and while on board Ta Daa misplaced her foot through my canvas.  Now in Port Townsend, I took the opportunity to have this little mishap repaired.  I also took the opportunity to have Canvas Guy give me advice about my dodger windows. 

Winston and I went for a walk into the old town to view some of the boats before the official opening.  It is going to be a grand showing of wooden boats.  While at the dock I bumped into the Customs Officer Jeff.  He let me know the Ciao had arrived and that Ritidian would be arriving about 1400 today.  He is such a nice guy.  He clearly puts to shame some of the other Customs Officers who do not think that you can be nice and still do your job well.

Once back at the Boat Haven I smelled a rat.  Upon approaching my boat, I noticed three lowly pirates in close proximity to Ta Daa.  They were trying to hide behind one skinny little life jacket.  Where is the fourth I wondered?  She had ran off.   Her pirate friends claimed she was looking for me.  Ha ha ha.  What a wonderful surprise to find the crew of Ciao waiting on Ta Daa for my and Winston’s return.  They also brought booty – a fine bottle of cool white wine.  We had a great time catching up and making plans for today.  Soon after, they toodled off into the sunset before it was too dark to navigate back to Ciao in the dinghy.   

 

Today will be a fine day.  While I am confortable on my own and I enjoy my own company it cannot get much better than to be with friends and family.  Did I mention the pirates are also neighbours and friends from Westbay Marina?  

Arriving tomorrow is Tara, another neighbour from Westbay.  Tara will stay with me and Winston aboard Ta Daa and she will sail home with us on Sunday.  

Keeping Busy Day By Day

I arrived home from Salt Spring Island on August 24.  I must admit, I did not want to be home but for the sake of keeping appointments home I came.

I only make the absolute necessary appointments and only make commitments to those close to me.  Hence, I was home for a day and a half then headed up to the Comox Valley, via Volvo, to help Stewart and Clare with their move.  Honestly, I got the better end of the deal.  I got to spend lots of time with Juliet and Amelia while Stew and Clare humped their butts with a garage sale, cleaning old quarters, and organizing new abode.  Juliet and Amelia came out ahead too.  They got new bedding and curtains for their new bedroom.  Also, a day at Kye Bay was in order so I ask, how tough was it for their Minnie?  It was pure pleasure, I say.  I can see why grandmas – in my case they call me Minnie – migrate towards the kids when they find themselves alone and grieving.  They add the joy to my life.  I love to see their little faces light up. I love to see their excitement and awe at discovering new things. 

Back to Victoria for more appointments – home for a day – then off to Whistler for the Labour Day weekend. I left on the Thursday to miss the mad exodus out of Victoria.  This is where my friend Cecilia lives. Cecilia, true to form, had the weekend planned.  Hiking, hiking and more hiking.  I knew this so invested in a pair of hiking boots.  Boots for my size 5 feet are not easy to find.  As usual I scoured Victoria for just the right boot.  Ron always encouraged me to purchase the first pair that fit properly.  I would rebut by saying that the next place might have a better pair at a better price.  He was usually right and would have been this time too.  I found myself returning to MEC to purchase the kids size that fit perfectly. My choice was outstanding for comfort.  The first day out no issues, the second day out no issues and the third day, the most grueling, no issues.

Ron bought me hiking boots for a wedding gift in 1997. We were heading to the Queen Charlotte Islands.  Not to conjure up a vivid image but one night after receiving my wedding gift, Ron, in an amorous mood crawled into bed.  I, responding to this idea ran my foot lovingly up and down his lower leg.  He immediately leaped out of bed and said “What was that? “  I said with the straightest face possible “My hiking boots.  I just love them so I wore them to bed.”   

First hike – well, it was really a walk around Alta Lake to break in my boots.  It was warm and beautiful.  We took time to visit the cabins of Myrtle and Alex Phillips.  The sides of these cabins are adorned with informative and nostalgic pictures of days gone by.  We topped off the day with a rest on the floating swim dock before heading back to Cecilia’s.  We did 10 kms and that was enough in the heat.  After lunch we threw in another walk around Lost Lake.  As we walked past the nudie dock we got to see more than expected – wink wink.

Second hike – Winston stayed home for this one.  He is not allowed on the chairs or gondolas.  Up Blackcomb chair we rode.  The scenery is spectacular.  We did a loop to take in the wild flowers.  They were in full bloom.  I was stopping at almost every flower to take pictures.  Cecilia laughed and reminded me there were more ahead.  This trail was fairly busy but then again it was a long weekend. Next we took the Peak to Peak gondola to Whistler Mountain’s Peak Chair.  We were surely on top of the world.  We decided to take the High Note trail.  This choice did not disappoint us.  Breathtaking.  Simply and beautifully breathtaking.  We met few people on this trail.  We stopped for a break where we had a birds eye view of Checkamus Lake in all its splendor.  As time was marching on, we decided to shorten our hike and head up and over the peak to Harmony Tea Hut.  We found ourselves hiking over blankets of snow, up steep climbs and through bug infested areas.  I can still feel the little bug wings in my throat.  We decided this was a non talking area – but know me and Cecilia, that is tough to do.  The tea hut was not actually open but from there, there was a trail/road back to the Peak Chair.  This day we hiked 16 kms then shared a picture of Alexander Keith’s which went down rather smooth and fast.

 

Third hike – Joffre Lakes Provincial Park.  There were six women in our pack today.  Winston also hiked with me.  This was a 12 km hike that consisted of three glacial lakes.  The lake colour was eye catching to say the least.  The toughest part of this day was the rockslide rock.  They are large rocks that you have to leap from one to another and avoid letting yourself fall into some of the cracks.  It was a tough go for Winston but he did it with flying colours.  Needless to say, the view at the third lake was stunning.  We ate lunch lakeside.  While eating and chatting we heard great noises.  This is called ‘carving’.  Carving is where huge chunks of ice break from the glacier.  These carvings tumble and flow down the hill.  The noise is a little unnerving to say the least.  It is quite a site to watch the ice flow down the mountainside.  All the while, we were in no danger as the carvings are only so big and can only slide so far.  Granted, if they WERE big enough, they could flow into the lake.   We hiked to a comfortable and safe distance below the glacier.  Another spectacular perspective of the lake was caught on film – OK digital matter. 

 

At this point, all of us (except Winston) pulled out our phones to capture moments to send to loved ones as soon as we connected to cell service again.  It was quite funny as we were all 50 something in age.  It was a teenage moment you might say when it came to technology.  Funny too!

I would be lying if I said that I was not tired on the return to the car.  Winston, at every chance had a lay down.  He was pooped too.  The slide rocks were the toughest for him on the return.  Once they were conquered, he picked up the pace and seemed to catch his second wind.  I am glad he was with me as it gave me an opportunity to slow my pace.

It has been quite some time since I hiked.  My last hike was to Mt. Albert Edward in the Comox Valley.  I had forgotten how beautiful it can be in the alpine terrain.  Thank you, Cecilia for this most awesome experience.  It has inspired me to do some local hiking this fall.  While Winston will not run with me any more, he will walk anywhere with me. 

Whistler had its Ron moments.  Ron and Cecilia were great friends too.  She knew how much Ron would have enjoyed the experience.  We shared a few teary moments missing Ron.  I walked in silence and thought of Ron constantly.  Perhaps being on top of the world, as we were, brought us that much closer to Ron’s world. 

Home from Whistler for one day and I am now in Port Townsend.  This is the home of the biggest Wooden Boat Festival on the coast.  Besides the boat festival, Port Townsend is a Victorian seaside village.   Ron and I have come here often since we began boating in 2002.  Today was a tough.  Again, it was missing Ron and knowing that he would have had such a good time with me.  Winston and I walked into town.  My little meltdowns were often today.  Thank goodness Winston understands.  I am sure the strangers who passed must have wondered about the emotional woman in tears.   All is good.  In honour of Ron, this evening I headed to Safeway.  Here they sell a six pack of wine (assorted varieties of your choice) for 10% off.  Ron would have been very disappointed in me if I didn’t take advantage of this offer. 

 

I headed to Port Townsend early of the boat festival.  Two reasons – I wanted dock space for Winston and I heard that anchoring out could get dicey if the wind picks up.  I figured if I am not confident about my anchoring spot I would not leave the boat.  If I didn’t leave the boat I would not participate in the festival nor would I sleep at night.  I arrived early enough and I have a great spot and it is quiet.  The customs officer tells me it is going to be C R A Z Y tomorrow and I was smart coming early.  Moorage in the US is considerably less than at home.  I am happy with my choice.

Today, friends from Westbay on Ciao are heading over. Friday more friends aboard Ritidian arrive.  Friday night or Saturday, Tara, my neighbor will be coming to join me and Winston aboard Ta Daa.   She will also accompany me home to Westbay.  We are hoping for moderate winds so we can sail together.