Archives for the month of: August, 2012

Twenty-one weeks, three days

Today, I am overwhelmed. I cannot process anything. I am picking away at menial tasks like updating my credit card information for my Nexus pass. I am dusting random surfaces. I can’t work at my job today. I can’t do anything that requires any real brain power. When I walk around the house, everything I see and touch is Ray. I’m looking for things. He knew where things were, but I can’t ask him now. There is “stuff” that I flop from wanting to bundle up and throw away so I don’t have to be reminded of my loss, to thinking I can’t touch at all. I have no idea how I will deal with the truly personal things that were his. I feel like I’m drowning in decisions and, even though my home is quite orderly, I suddenly feel like a hoarder.

On days like this, I think that I probably won’t be able to continue to exist without Ray. Things seem meaningless. I am weepy and feel as heavy as a pile of bricks. How can I feel like this on a sunny, warm day? How in God’s name will I be able to manage in November? I feel like an empty shell, simply going through the motions of living because I’m supposed to.

And yet, I know that a week ago, I was functioning just fine. So, is this really how I feel and I’ve been burying it, or is it just “one of those times” where I can’t stand up by myself? It’s kind of shocking how you can be emotionally whipsawed from stable to frail in what seems like the blink of an eye. I feel like I can’t count on myself. Will I be like this tomorrow? Or will I be the powerhouse that people think I am?

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Twenty-one weeks, two days

It was our youngest’s 24th birthday on Saturday. Cass and I celebrated with a decadent shopping trip to Seattle this weekend. It was loads of fun, eating and shopping and having some giggles.

I got back tonight aware of that giant hole again. Where was he? Why couldn’t I share this all with him? Sometimes this ache is so huge, I can’t even look at it for fear it will swallow me whole. Everything in my adult, and virtually conscious life, has involved Ray. Even if Cass and I did something like we did this on a weekend, I would come back to Ray, to tell him the stories, and we would laugh. GOD DAMN IT! IT’S SO EMPTY IN MY LIFE WITHOUT HIM!

It’s such as weird dichotomy. I feel joy…I do. I don’t feel guilt about it. But I am so aware of these vast empty spaces where Ray just isn’t any more. There is NOTHING to fill that void. Nothing ever will. Again…that soulmate thing. I could have the best friend in the world again, but never this one. Never that person who knew my thoughts and knew my joy…even before I felt it. No man, no woman will ever fill this space. And I don’t mourn that I won’t have it with someone else. In fact, I don’t want it with someone else. I just can’t imagine that what I had is actually gone. It’s so hard to look at, I avoid it studiously. It is, in a word, unfathomable. And I guess that’s where it stays. Unmeasurable. Unimaginable. Unfathomable.

Cass celebrating the wild surf at Cox Bay

20 weeks, five days

I’ve fallen in love. Besotted, drunken, stupid love. But it’s not with a someone. It’s with a some place. Ray and the kids and I went to Tofino, BC last November in the worst weather. But that’s the objective with this crazy place, open to the Pacific with only Japan to spoil the view. It blew. It rained. It did what the Pacific Northwest does best, but in an environment that one couple from Minneapolis I met described as “fairy-like”. There is a reason that this is where they filmed Twilight. It is a deep, magical place. It is wet, mossy and spectacularly green. During our three days there, we walked on the beach, stood in the wind and cuddled by fireplaces — both in our cabin and in our favourite restaurants. Where could someone like me — deathly afraid of dark, sunlight-starved winter days — feel so happy in one of the wettest places on the planet. We vowed to return.

Tragically, we returned without Ray this July. We decided to test Tofino in “summer” (in quotation marks because we have waited patiently for summer here on the “wet” coast and it has just shown up in the second week of August). It was cool but not raining. One day, it was even sunny. I have never felt more relaxed or more well than when I returned after that trip. Something about this place is so healing and exceptional. I don’t know what it is, but I am drawn to it like a bee to honey. On returning from this trip, I felt compelled to see if I could find a place to live here….at least part time. And it is here that I have started to doubt my sanity. I have listened to my sisters with their gentle caveats: don’t rush into it; it’s your “first year”; don’t do anything rash. And, having lived these 50+ years, I know that it’s important to hear out the people who love and care about you. My life has taught me the perils of ignoring those who have the guts to stand up and say,” look out”. And yet, I am thinking about this place all day, every day.

I went back on an exploratory mission to look at homes and land there last week. My idea is to have a place that my family and I can use, but rent when we’re not there. I’ve consulted with one of the better rental agents in Tofino to learn what will rent well and what I would be best to acquire. I didn’t love any of the houses. One was okay, but in a “neighbourhood” that felt like a street of houses. I can live anywhere and have that. What I did gravitate to was an uncleared lot — a half acre, across the road from a path to the beach.

The lot, as yet untouched

I walked it and timed it. 12 1/2 minutes to one of the most spectacular beaches on earth, Chesterman Beach. I have walked through the lot twice. It is soft and silent and beautiful. I can see my friend Paul, a seasoned and talented architect, designing a magical place for us to be. I can see it built. I can see my dog, Willy and I setting out each morning to walk, having coffee and then settling down to work — remotely — with my office in Richmond. I want my family to use this place. I want friends to use it. The bonus of renting for 10 – 20 weeks a year makes it feasible and worth considering. So, am I mad? Wouldn’t something somewhere else work better? Couldn’t I skip the 2 hour ferry ride + 3 1/2 hour drive on a road that would make Mario Andretti pale? How about a nice rancher in the Cariboo? Or a house looking over the orchards in Kelowna? Why not any Gulf Island: Mayne, Pender, Galiano, Saltspring? I guess there are a few reasons. One: I’ve never been to any of the Gulf Islands save for Denman and Hornby, lovely as they are, I could never see myself there. And when I broached the subject of the other Gulf Islands with my kids they said, “but that has no sentimental link for us. Tofino is linked with Dad”. No other place we have ever been as a family has had this impact on us. We are all besotted to a point. So, what do I do. Stop drinking the Koolaid and get a grip? Listen to my heart and buy the land? Would not buying it be my greatest regret? Or would buying it be a massively stupid decision. Am I mad? What should I do?

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