Five years ago this week, my two sons, their Dad, and I were
organizing our first band rehearsal.
With much excitement, we converged on the house that the boys had built
together with Al. I remember, with crystal-clear acuity, watching the two of
them drive their jeeps up the steep driveway, and I thought about how proud I
was of both of them... they had good jobs, were happy and we all were in the
throes of creating something new and joyful together. We played many songs that night –
Duncan inspiring us to new musical heights with his beautiful guitar solos, and
Sean knocking us off our feet with a voice that we hadn’t realized was so powerful and
perfectly pitched. We played Gary Moore’s “Still got the blues for you”,
and as I left to go home, I turned to him and said, “I love you, Dunc.” It
was the last time I saw his precious face.
I am very grateful. That
those were my last words. That we spent our last hours together doing something
we all enjoyed immensely. That we spent
it as a family even though we were not together any more. That the first face
he saw when he was born was mine, full of love. And our last glance was one of
deep love as well.
As the five-year mark of his passing looms, I am having more
than usual moments of indescribable longing to see his handsome, smiling face,
to hear him speak to me again, and to have him give me one of his trademark
bear hugs. God I miss that kid. And yet he is with me all the time. And most days, I feel his radiance and I know
others do too.
I don’t know whether he has anything to do with this, but it seems
when I need him the most, someone who needs me more shows up. A mere
acquaintance that I hadn’t talked to in a long time happened to run into me and she was
obviously upset. When I asked her what
was going on, she said it was exactly a year ago that she had to make a
decision to take her young son off life support. It was her first anniversary and I know, deep
in my bones, that we were supposed to talk. While she believes I helped her
with her process, she was just as instrumental in helping me regain my
perspective in that moment. The same
thing happened with a 22-year-old who just lost his Mom. He was in complete shock and reached out to
me for consolation. I hope he knows that I was just as consoled as he was (if not more).
Yes, these are sad stories but at the same time I’m
inspired by the human spirit that we all have within us that chooses to grow
from these experiences. This is my life.
It’s
because of, not in spite of these events that I am opting to squeeze every
last bit of juice from the fruits. Not
always easy, to be sure, but there is sweetness if you have a thirst for it.
I will probably go to Whistler on the weekend and have a sit
on his bench again. I am hoping for good
weather so we can light a little bonfire in his honour at the beach where he
grew up. I am looking ahead to a year of new learnings, more sweetness, and a
renewed zest for what already is a wonderful life.
Branded by indomitableness,
Authentically yours,
Buns
P.S. I just realized
that I wrote a similar piece a couple of years ago and included Gary Moore's
song for you to hear. I decided to
change it up a bit ...
Ah, Christie you are a gem, a breath of joyful air. Thank you for sharing this poignant story. We are privileged to have shared such love from beginning to end, and onward. xoxox
ReplyDeleteWith tears in my eyes and gratitude in my heart I just want to say how blessed and honored I am to know you and to know Duncan's fearless shining spirit. As proud of him, of both your boys, as you are I know Dunc was equally proud of you.
ReplyDeleteYou are a woman of grace and courage and I love you.
Marty
So wonderful to see you today with your sisters and families and to now read your blog....I look forward to new learnings from you in the future
ReplyDeletexoxoxoxo
Kathy Dohaney Loucks
xo