Some years ago I volunteered for hospice Toronto and worked with a woman who had ALS. She was an acquaintance that I knew outside of the hospice. Volunteering for her saw me doing everything from washing dishes and cleaning cat litter to lifting a woman (significantly taller than me) in and out of a wheelchair and feeding her through a “J-Tube”. In my time working with her I organized a fundraiser for her. With the help of people like Roben Goodfellow, Stephanie Lang, and many, many others, we successfully raised just over 12,000. I found a path to a new career. I learned many things and gained some perspective on some others.

After a 16 year battle with a disease that usually kills within two years, She died yesterday just before noon Toronto time.

She died about one hour too soon for me to visit her one last time.

I’m not terribly broken up about the fact that I did not get a chance to see her one last time. By all accounts she was not conscious and would not have been aware of my presence. And in truth I said goodbye to her quite some time ago.

Working with the dying can be a richly rewarding calling, but it is not for everyone and it is not always easy. When I first thought of someone “dying at home” an image came to mind of a united peaceful family gathered around the bed of the patient, incense and candles burning softly, harp music in the background.
The reality is not so pretty. The family is devastated, the patient is in pain, sometimes so weak and incapacitated they cannot toilet themselves.

The smells are not of incense and candles.

Unlike in the book “Tuesdays with Morrie” the dying patient is not necessarily at peace with their fate. My ALS Client was not ready to die. She fought death with a tenacity and spirit that was a wonder to behold. She chose interventions that I would not have tolerated, choosing to live with a respirator and a feeding tube rather than let death creep forward any faster than she could beat it back. I believe she lasted as long as she did because of the sheer force of her formidable will.

Even though I did have a chance to say goodbye to her there are some things I would have like to say again. I believe it’s possible that she may still be able to hear me. If that’s the case then this is my message to her:

I want to thank you for the time we had together. Even though it wasn’t always easy, it stretched me and challenged me and in many ways shaped me and changed my life.

You inspired me to create the fundraiser for you, we raised over 12,000 dollars and got responses from your former PR clients including Phill Collens, Liam Neeson, and Loreena Mckennitt. I saw astounding examples of generosity, kindness and altruism. I discovered leadership and organizational skills I had no idea I possessed.
You inspired me to go outside of my comfort zones to take on challenges. You also taught me to say no, to take care of myself, to define and stick to my boundaries. Through work I did with you I discovered that I was happiest when I was helping people and that lead me to the career I have now.

You made me think about my own mortality, and inspired conversations with my family and loved ones about our thoughts and wishes regarding resuscitation, end of life care and funeral arrangements.

I can’t say that I would have made the same choices that you did but in your presence I was reminded to not be judgemental, and to be respectful of someone else’s wishes, choices and beliefs.

In end I hope that life was not so much a battle, and that fear gave way to peace.
Rest well.

Good Bye

I don’t think that you were very fond of me, but in light of the news I heard this afternoon I feel the need to reach in to my heart and forgive you for any slights imagined or not. 

You did not have an easy life, but I hope that your passage across the veil is peaceful, and that you may find oneness with divinity and reunion with those who have gone before.

Blessed be.

Days of the Dead

Its that time of year again, when the pagans and the Mexicans acknowledge those who have passed before us. This year feels strange.

Some months ago a woman I was once very close to died. I had not been in touch with her for a very long time. When found out that she had died I felt very badly that I had lost contact with her. It took me some time to remember that I had parted company with her for some very good reasons, and when I had tried to reconnect with her, she never picked up the ball. Still... it felt very strange to be at her funeral knowing that the last time we had seen each other we weren't exactly on good terms.

My very good friend Stephanie Lang, reminded me just before the funeral that "d" had been "Prickly" and she was quite certain that I was not the only one attending the funeral that felt oddly about the whole thing.

So here we are in the days when the pagans feel that the veils between the two worlds are at there thinnest and if we invite them, the dead will join us for a short time.

What do I say to "d"?

I don't know if you can hear this, but I do wish that things had worked out differently, that we hadn't hurt each other so much that we had to run away from each other. You didn't have an easy life, I hope that you found some peace and some happiness, if not during your life time, then certainly now in your afterlife.

And now in this strange in between time, I find myself standing in between life and death.

This morning we got a phone call from the Haggis's parents. One of the relatives in Montreal is very ill and has very little time to live. His family is on death watch as I type. Across the Provence a couple that we dearly love awaits the birth of there second child.

It's an odd sort of balance.

40 - So what now?

I don't, as a rule, make new years resolutions. This year is a year nor some significance, (given that I have just hit the big Four-Oh) and I may make some exceptions.

This was supposed to be the year that I ran a marathon.

HA!

The combination of working for Starshmucks and now going to school has killed any time I've had for running and I have paid dearly for that in the form of an ever expanding ass. The added weight has gotten to the point that I think my knees would give way if I tried to run right now.

I have to lose weight.

And thats not in the New Years-resolution-that-I'm-going-to-ignore-any-way kind of way....

I am heavier than I have ever been and I an concerned for my health. After all it is not unheard of for people my age to keel over and die of a heart-attack.

So I don't have a plan of attack for this weight-loss thing other than I really need to do some exercise and avoid the snack machine at school and the skanky coffee time across the street.

I need to do well in school. I have been doing that so I am not to worried about that goal.

And aside from that my goals are all kind of spiritual/metaphysical

When I was a good little Pagan I had a teacher who was not exceptionally talented . The one useful thing she said to me was "Do not attribute to malice what can much more readily be explained by ignorance." (sorry Pete I gave you that one - not the other way around)

-I need to take that bit of advice more often. I will be much happier with the world for doing that.

I need to forgive more readily and let go of anger. Because really, the people who piss me off are really not worth the effort.

And (particularly for the next two years) I need to bone up on my Spanish.

Thats plenty.
Wish me luck.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night..

Christmas is an odd time of year, and not just because its my birthday.

Its the time of the year when some of the best, and some of the worst comes out in people. Where the spirit of giving and charity come out, where we think of those who are less fortunate than ourselves, were we gather together with our friends, coworkers, and our loved ones and occasionally our (not so) loved ones. Christmas is a time of the year when we should reflect on what we are thankful for. In the midst of all the peace on earth and good will towards all men it is (sadly) also a time of the year when some assholes come crawling out of the woodwork.

Any one who has ever worked in retail understands exactly what I mean.

This year I volunteered to work though the holidays, and for the most part my customers were happy, appreciative of my efforts, and lovely to deal with.

There were some odd exceptions.

There was a gentleman this afternoon who was in a bit of a mood. He was snapping about something or other, and my response was to be as cheerful as I possibly could and I told him to have a wonderful Christmas. He stopped, came back to the counter and asked me pointedly "Did you say to have a Merry Christmas?"

"Er... yeah."

He went on to say that he was sure that it was company policy that we could not say "Merry Christmas" and that at every other Starbucks he had been too he had been told to have a "Happy Holliday" and the "political correctness" of it pissed him off. He always made a point of saying "Merry Christmas" back at someone’s "happy holidays". He was quite pleased by my "Merry Christmas".

I thought it was a really silly thing to get your shorts in a knot over.

I plastered a big smile on my face and nodded and smiled.

Later that evening we had a charming young lady who demanded to know why were closing so early. I tentatively said,
"Er... because it's Christmas Eve?"

She muttered something I wont repeat here.

My co-worker had many words for this young lady after she left the store. Some to do with her questionable parentage, her attitude, and the fact that she clearly had no concept that we had lives and families to get too.

I told my co-worker that this was not worth getting upset over. I was particularly surprised, as to my knowledge my coworker had no family in Toronto and is currently between relationships.

Earlier this week I have experienced some of the more "Peace on Earth" kind of Christmas cheer. On Friday night, the Haggis and I went to a friend’s house. There were vast amounts of food, reminiscing, and many hugs all round. All of the gifts that were exchanged that night were hand made.

And while I was impressed with my un-commercial non-consumer Christmas the next day I was treated to a delightful great dollop of consumer-y goodness. On Saturday I was surprised by Santa arriving quite early and providing me with something I had been wanting for school quite some time. A number of my friends, and the Haggis got together to get me a really nice, really smoking laptop.

Dear God, I was quite shocked. It is a lovely toy that I must explore at length soon, but so much lovelier are the wonderful friends who plotted together to make this happen. Time, effort and many emails were no doubt sacrificed in this effort and I am so thankful for that effort.

Oh my.

I feel sorry for that young woman who needed a coffee shop to be open later than 6pm of Christmas Eve. Perhaps she had not family or friends to go home too.

I'm glad I do.

Solstice Morning

This morning I had a 5:30 am start at work. (the first such early start I have had in months)

I decided to avoid the "Zoo Bus" entertainments for the morning and I took my bike to work. I left the house at about 5:00 am and the sky was just starting to lighten. It was cool and fresh and there were almost no cars on the road, so I cranked up to a big gear and zoomed down town.

My cycling computer is not working so I'm not sure how fast I was going but I suspect it got up to 35+ KM Per Hr.

As I headed down Spadina towards Bloor in the distance I could hear singing, and As I passed the Native Canadian Center Of Toronto I saw two native men preforming a ceremony on the lawn. Together they sang a native chant while one of them beat on drum and the other tended to a small fire. As I passed them I could smell the burning wood and sage, and It made me absurdly happy I was smelling those sacred things instead of the usual down town stench.

I did nothing to officially mark the solstice yesterday, but even though it was a day late my sweeping by the Native Center Shamen made me feel like I acknowledged it today.

Musings on Days of the Dead

October 31st, Halloween, also known as Samhain is known as the Celtic new year and the time when the veils between the two worlds were at there thinnest. Similarly On November 2nd Mexico celebrates Dias Del La Muertos – Day of the Dead. Japan Celebrates a similar day called Obon. (but in Japan it falls some time between July 15 and August 15 depending on the Lunar calendar.)

When I was a good little pagan I would dutifully attend some form of “welcoming the dead back” ritual around this time of year.

These days I’m not so good a pagan, but this time of year has always been important, sacred and charged. When I was a little kid I tried to express to my parents that there was more to Halloween. That I felt, deep in my heart that I was supposed to be doing something and there was something to the anticipation that I felt in the days leading to Halloween.

They thought I was excited about candy.

Sigh.

In recent years on October 31st Igal and I have decorated the house and handed out candy to the local munchkins. But I have always paused and remembered my important dead at this time of the year. And I do so again this year.

Brian Gordon.
Brian was a gorgeous man who lived in the same building as me and my parents. He was a very kind sweet man, and the kind of gay man that made strait women sigh in frustration. He was incredibly fit, and I would frequently see him rollerblading down the street where we lived. He was he first person I knew who died of AIDS. His illness brought home the reality of what AIDS was and the fact that the most healthy fit individual could still fall victim to it. I visited him in Casey House before he died. Brian was a shining example of a person who had come to terms with there impending death and prepared accordingly. He pre-arranged his funeral; He bought his mother a dress for the funeral. –Sleeveless, incase he died in the summer, and with a matching jacket, incase he died in the winter.

I am told that as he left the funeral home after making the arrangements for his own funeral, the funeral director looked up at him and said, “Oh Brian, … Don’t be late.”

Apparently he wasn’t.

Gary Morris
Gary was Lana’s Boyfriend of three years when he suddenly died of a massive heart attack due to a birth defect. He was a sweet kid and the only one of her boyfriends I really approved of. (Aside from her current sweetie Daniel) He was a talented kid both as a musician and a recording engineer. His death was an astounding learning experience for me. It showed me that I could handle a crisis, it gave me an understanding of my own feelings about death and dieing and it ultimately shaped some of the reasons why I wanted to get involved in hospice and palliative care.

Maurice LaChappele
Maurice was the elder of the Wiccan Church of Canada. He was the person that the high Priesthood could turn to in times of crisis. He was a wonderful person to talk too and he went to the grave with many peoples secrets. He could be counted on to be nonjudgmental and truthful. He was the first person I knew of who got and subsequently, died of ALS. He was a fascinating creature with a wicked sense of humor and a vast astounding knowledge of herbs and mushrooms. I loved him dearly and to this day I miss him.

Doris Iovich
Doris was a cousin of Igal’s. She was the clan matriarch of the Montreal side of Igal’s family. She lived a hard life and started over twice, once when her family came over to Canada from Russia and once more when her successful business was felled by circumstances beyond her control. She was a strong, strong lady. She was 95 years old when she died and she was still living alone in her own apartment. To her last day she was as sharp as a tack. Of all Igal’s family she made me feel the most welcome and loved. The last time I saw her, Igal and I dropped her off at her apartment where she was promptly getting ready for another visitor. She turned to me and said “You know I love you don’t you Veronica?”

Yes auntie Doris.
I do.


There are more.
But that’s enough for now.

Retreat Part 2

So I am back.

Enlightened?

No.

Lighter? (feeling)

Oh Gods/Buddha yes.

The food was vegan. The day started at 4:30 am. (No, I’m not kidding). There were five separate hour long sessions of sitting meditation, separated by walking meditation and meals. Silence was maintained throughout the retreat except for a very short private interview on Saturday and Sunday that was held with the gentleman running the retreat.

Am I a Buddhist now?

I don’t know. I think I am test driving Buddhism. But I do like meditation and it seems to work for me.

Would I do another retreat?

In a heart beat.

Retreat

Yesterdays Graffiti clean up went flawlessly. Wonderful kids, funny sarcastic cop’s who would wait until little old ladies where walking by and yell out something like;

“Hurry up guys its time to get back to jail!”

Today is my last day and I am cleaning out the office computer of my résumé’s and about 35 cover letters. I am also writing the thank you letters to the various people who donated goodies for the kids.

Tomorrow, I am heading out to Lanark Ontario (just outside of Ottawa) for a four day long silent meditation retreat.

-Yeah, just in case you all didn’t already think that I was weirder than a soup sandwich.

What brought this on? A number of years ago when I started working for the lovely Pete Bevin we talked at some length about meditation and how useful it had been to him in some rough spots in his life. He loaned me a bunch of books and it piqued my interest. I found a couple of mediation groups and showed up for one or two sessions, but I didn’t feel particularly “right” about any of them.

Recently I found another group that meets close to Yonge and St. Claire. This felt more comfortable, and every one I have spoken too about the group and its founder has had nothing but praise for both.

So when I saw that the group was doing this meditation retreat I thought, “this is for me” The timing could not be better.

What do I hope to accomplish from this?

Not a lot really. I should think that I will be better at meditation. I hope that I will be a little calmer and have a wee bit more perspective on life in general. I don’t think that I will become enlightened over the course of one weekend; I don’t think that I will change as a person. I hope it will the start of something.

Igal is whining about being left all alone. He will survive. And I know that he is going to find his own form of relaxation by blasting the hell out of his good friends this weekend.

Tonight we are going to Lana’s place and they are giving me a “good bye” dinner. The perfect way to be sent off for this trip.