2020 Vision

"Hindsight is 20/20" - Old Adage

In a few short hours, the calendar will turn a page on the decade. 2020 looms on the horizon.  Rather than make resolutions, I like to choose a theme for the coming year.  It provides me with a framework for my decisions and learning.  This year, 2019, was my year of saying "yes".  Unless I had a really good reason to say "no","yes" became my default response.  Of course, as Dr. Phil would say, no matter how flat you make a pancake, it always has two sides.  There have been times when the "yes" experience might have been better as a "no" experience but on balance, my year of saying "yes" was a resounding success.  Many of the highlights of my year came from saying yes to invitations to join friends on their adventures.  My favourite time of 2019 came early in the year when we accompanied our dear friends Tom and Denis on a Cuban holiday.  On one hot, sunny morning, Denis and I set up our easels and painted.  It was a magical morning spent with a man that I love as if he was my own brother.  Those hours alone, defined the wonder of our Cuban vacation.  Our time together was a gift that I gave to myself.

My 2020 theme is a bit of a departure from saying "yes" though I still intend to keep it as my default response.  I am deeming 2020 to be my year of remembering.  Not remembering events or experiences but rather, remembering me.  The last couple of years, I have been challenging many of my long held beliefs about who I am and what my limitations are.  And while some of those beliefs are true, I have found that many are not. It turns out that I am the domestic type.  I do have some artistic ability.  I'm not chickenhearted.  And now that I know what I'm not, I want to remember what I am - who I was before the world told me who I was and what I could and could not do.  2020 seems like exactly the right time to do that.  Hindsight with 20/20 vision in 2020.

Lest anyone should believe I am feeling lost - I am not.  I am strong, smart and courageous.  But there is much change in my life right now and many demands on my time and energy.  My husband is newly retired, my sisters are unwell and I have many health challenges of my own. And yet, as I enter the year when I will begin to collect my Old Age Pension, I feel that I am finally coming into my own. 

Resilient On the Eve of 64

"Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four" - The Beatles

Tomorrow marks the tenth anniversary since I began writing this blog and my 64th birthday.  I used to write in it quite frequently but a glance at my last entry shows me I have not written in it since January.   I guess I've been living in my head quite a lot.  I've been in my pre-birthday reflective period these past couple of weeks.  I've been trying to figure out a bunch of things - not just the direction of my future but also the truth of my past.   That is to say, I've been trying to get to the core of who I really am, free from the roles, confines and expectations that have been both self-imposed and imposed on me by others.  Becoming an orphan has been hard on me.  But after all the months of introspection, inside my grief and pain and even joy, I discovered one truth about myself.  I am resilient.

No matter what hand I get dealt, I have so far managed to play it the best way I know how and when I have to fold, I keep getting back into the game, no matter what.  I am resilient.  I have three times come back strong from critical illness.  I am resilient.  I have walked through hell and kept on walking because I am resilient.  I don't know why it took until 64 to figure it out but I'm awfully glad that I did.

The Colours of Me

I am a woman in pieces of colour.  In the prime of my life, the vibrancy of the rich reds and purples and greens caught the eyes of those around me.  A million shades of love.  A million shades of hope, of belief, of wonder, each piece shining in its own glorious way.  The colours of youth.  Pieces held tightly together in the sureness of my body and the clarity of my mind.  

I am not young anymore.  Pieces have shifted or crumbled away.  Pieces that used to shine in brilliant hues are missing now, colours faded into dark voids that hold the emptiness of lost loved ones, lost hopes, lost beauty.  Pieces whittled away and others added, not in blues and yellows but in the grayness of wires and steel.  The colours of my aging self no longer catch anyone’s eyes.  

I can no longer tell myself that I am middle aged.  In a couple of years, I will qualify for old age benefits.  My world is shifting and changing.  There will inevitably be more losses, less usefulness, less clarity. Pieces will continue to crumble.  Colours will continue to fade until I am invisible.

Yes

“Always say 'yes' to the present moment... Surrender to what is. Say 'yes' to life - and see how life starts suddenly to start working for you rather than against you.” - Eckhart Tolle

A couple of years ago, my friend Ellen's husband passed away suddenly, far too young and unexpectedly.  I was concerned about how Ellen would do without her beloved Michael.  They were as close as any couple could be.   Ellen has done amazingly well.  She misses Michael terribly but her life is busy and she is full of joy.  I asked her the secret to thriving in such difficult circumstances.  She told me that she adopted a new life policy.  Her default answer to most things is to just say "yes". "Yes" to time with friends. "Yes" to trips and adventures in exotic lands.  "Yes" to opportunities to learn something new or try something new.  

Inspired by Ellen, I have decided to also adopt "Yes" as my default position.  When my friend Colleen asked me to attend a chocolate making class with her, I said "Yes".  It was fun.  When my friend Geraldine asked me to attend a holiday cooking class with her, I said "Yes".  We left well fed with a few new ideas for holiday entertaining.  "Yes", I will go with the girls to the spa.  "Yes", we will happily accompany our friends on a Cuban vacation this winter.  "Yes", I will try a new craft with Joanna.  "Yes", I will learn a new area of law to help my friend David as he expands his practice.  Unless there is a good reason why I can't say "Yes", I am going to keep saying it.  So far, I'm having the time of my life.

Jangled

"Set up another case bartender! The best thing for a case of nerves is a case of Scotch." - W. C. Fields

It has been a couple of months since I've written an entry in this blog.  Since I started writing it in July of 2009, I have never gone so long without an entry but life has rather gotten away from me lately.

The death of my mother in July has left me in a state of grief far greater than I would have imagined.  She was old and had been sick for a very long time.  I knew the day was coming that I would lose her but when I did, I was overwhelmed by a sense of profound loss.  She was my mother.  No one has ever loved me the way my mother loved me.  No one ever will again.  Though she hadn't spoken for years and gave no indication that she could understand anything I told her, I still told her everything.  I talked to her about my hopes and fears, victories and defeats.  I told her all my troubles.  It made me feel better.  But now she is gone.  There is no one to tell.  No one who will not judge me.  No one who just listen and love me the way my mom did.  I just want a few more hours.  Just to look at her beautiful face and run my fingers over her smooth, soft skin.  Just a few more hours to sing to her and speak to her, to see her smile one more time.

There is so much to do after someone dies.  It is not just about funeral arrangements or writing and giving her eulogy - the hardest speech I've ever had to make.  It's also about settling her estate, about banking and taxes and notifying what seems like a thousand people and sending out a thousand copies of her death certificate. 

Tucked into the chaos of these difficult days, there has been a trip to Vienna with my husband, the annual charity work I do with my son, assistance for a young friend in preparing for her wedding, a two week visit from my husband's niece and a series of stressed and emotional clients.  I have a lot to say about Vienna but I will save it for another time.  I am too tired tonight.

I've noticed the smallest of things are jangling my nerves - a teenage boy bouncing a basketball for two blocks along the Queen's Quay this afternoon, badly behaved children at the airport last evening, crying babies, old ladies driving the wrong way in the Loblaw's parking lot - it doesn't take much.  

I've been cleaning and organizing like a madwoman for the last couple of weeks, trying to prepare for the arrival of Merv's niece.  Instead of just plowing through it with some sense of satisfaction, I plowed through it while berating myself at every turn for letting things get so disorganized and out of control in the first place.  It wasn't until yesterday that I stepped back and asked myself what the reality of that was.  The truth is, I have dealt with constant physical challenges for the past four years - three herniated lumbar discs and two rounds of heart failure.  It's a miracle things were in as good a condition as they were.  The house was clean, though disorganized. It's not disorganized now.  When I felt better, I did better.  It's time to stop berating myself for not having supernatural powers.  Old habits die hard.  I'm going to have to work on that one.  

And sometime in the weeks ahead, when our company is gone and I've finished the business of my mom's estate, when the wedding is over and all my closets have been cleaned, I'm going to take a few days, just for myself.  I'm going to read and binge watch all the old episodes of This Is Us.  I'm going to eat chocolate in bed and take long leisurely baths using all the bath bombs in the basket by the tub.  And I'm going to soothe my nerves at least enough to not feel I'm coming unglued because a teenager is bouncing a basketball as he walks on the road ahead of me.