Sunday, March 8, 2015

Three Weeks Years On

It's hard to believe that it's been three years since I've heard Lex's voice. Actually, in some ways, it feel like much longer.

March 6th was the appropriate date - the anniversary of that sad event. I should have written then, I suppose.

But you see, March 6th is also my youngest daughter's birthday. And, interesting story there - on the first anniversary of Lex's death, I was painfully aware of these two polar opposite events occuring on the same day. On the second anniversary, the fact that March 6th was both the Kit Kat's birthday and the day Lex died was most definitely on my mind from the moment I opened FaceBook. But this year was different.

My baby turned 19, you see (and, by the by, what the hell is up with that?!) and, I am sad to say, the fact that it was also an anniversary of another, much sadder sort slipped my mind. Slipped my mind until I read a Face Book post written by a good friend who, appropriately, I never would have met but for Lex. And then, once again, I experienced that jarring sensation when that juxtaposition caught me unaware and struck me hard - the date my baby was born was also the date that Lex died.

I am "lucky", I supppose, (if that be the right word) ... yes, I *still* miss Lex; but, perhaps not to the depth, to the degree some do. I refer not, of course, to to his "real world" family and friends (no contest there, I am sure), but rather to the more faithful (for lack of a better word) Lexicans, as witnessed on the Neptunus Lex Super Secret FaceBook page.

I still read semi-regularly over there (if reading the first four or five posts at the top of the page a few times a week counts as semi-regularly) and pop up with a comment or post occasionally (okay, very, very occasionally), but ... actually I kind of wonder how people (not just my NepLex friends but all my FB friends) manage to find the time to spend as much time as they seem to on social networks while still meeting the other obligations and needs (including their own) that our reality entails. But that be another story for another day ...

At any rate, I just popped in here to say .. what?

Hmmm, strangely I don't really know. Perhaps just to state that not just as is so evident on the Nep Lex page and elsewhere on the interwebs, Lex is still missed by many significantly quieter voices in the blogsphere (including those who can really can only be counted as semi-irregular regular bloggers, at best).

Fair winds and following seas, Sir ...

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Never Forgotten

A FaceBook post by a friend really struck home tonight. She was reposting one of Jann Arden's posts that started like this
I had a break through of sorts a few days ago, right after I had a mini 'breakdown'.... I asked my mom if she thought she would ever forget me and she said, "Well, my brain might, but my heart won't". Those eight words took my breath away. 
"Well, my brain might, but my heart won't " ... those words really struck home for me.

When my Mom was so sick and struggling with dementia, I was very lucky in that there was only one occasion when she didn't know who she was when I came to visit in the hospital.

I bustled around the room, doing my thing and yakking away and suddenly realized something was off. So I sat down on the side of the bed and asked if she knew who I was. "Of course I do" she replied. "No you don't". "Yes, I do". "Okay then, who am I?". The moment of truth ... she looked at me with such peace and warmth in her eyes and simply said "someone who loves me very much". I still tear up just to write of it.

A few months later, after popping up to the hospital for a quick unexpected visit one evening, I told her that I had to leave to pick up my youngest daughter (insert name). It had been a particularly bad day for Mom (they had moved her to another room and her mind had just totally shut down) so when something didn't seem right, I asked "You remember Kit Kat, right?" "No, I don't think I do... ".

I took my daughter's framed school picture out of the closet where they had put it after the move and placed it in her hands. "Now you remember Kit Kat, right?". "No, I'm not sure". I left her with the picture, dropped the subject and started talking about something else. When I turned around and looked at her, she was repeatedly softly stroking my daughter's face on the photograph and once again she had the most peaceful look about her.

When I left that evening, she told me that she had been so afraid that I wouldn't find her because they moved her to another room. I replied, much like you would to soothe a child's fears, that no matter where they moved her, I would always find her. She stopped, seemed to consider that for a moment and then responded, "Yes, yes, I believe you will". Her face visibly relaxed when she said it.

I still miss my Mom desperately even though it's been over six years since that horrible day. But remembering (and writing about) moments such as these, while they pull my heart strings and bring tears to my eyes also bring a smile to my face (albeit a sad one) and a feeling of warmth.

On that note, I came across this poem shortly after Mom died. It, too, spoke to me, which was surprising because I am really not a poetry person.

Which, yeah, I believe I shared that with you before. But maybe I'm wrong, maybe, just maybe when it comes to times of loss, I am. At any rate, I will bid you a fond adieu and leave you with this poem.

And the sentiment that, no matter what, I am so glad that I have this blog that has captured, in perpetuity, such important moments in my life. Because even in reliving rereading such terrible moments of pain and hurt and loss, I can still find love, warmth, (occasionally humour) and a sense of connectedness.

Death is nothing at all, 
I have only slipped away into the next room. 
I am I, and you are you. 
Whatever we were to each other, we still are. 

Speak to me in the easy way you always used. 
Put not difference in your tone, 
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. 

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. 
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. 
Let it be spoken without effort, 
Without the trace of a shadow on it. 

Life means all that it ever meant. 
It is the same as it ever was, 
There is unbroken continuity. 
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? 

I am waiting for you, for an interval, 
Somewhere very near, 
Just round the corner. 
All is well.

Nothing is past.
Nothing is lost. 
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!"

Monday, December 29, 2014

And So This is Christmas ...

Christmas is, hands-down, my favourite holiday on the calendar. Maybe (most likely) it was the fact that we didn't celebrate Christmas when I was a kid that accounts for a lot of my delight and enjoyment now.

So what is my favourite thing about Christmas, you ask.

This might sound rather strange, but what I love truly love about the season can be summed up in very few words ... I think in large part it`s the beauty, the visual appeal of the season that really gets to me.

True enough, when my daughters were younger there was a great deal of pleasure and fun in watching their response to the run up to Christmas and their full on excitement on Christmas day. It was both contagious and priceless.

There were also family traditions that developed over the years that gave me a warm, comforting feeling. And, as a parent, I appreciated the chance to try to model and teach to my children in various ways that there truly is more pleasure in giving than in receiving.

In fact, to this day, I would love to adopt some little ones just for this time of the year, to share the magic with them, to watch their faces light up with delight and excitement, to be a part of that again.

But what I really appreciate about Christmas now is the sheer beauty of the season. I could easily sit for hours, staring into a Christmas tree, letting my mind simply roam free and I absolutely love adore the sparkle of lights shining on the snow, the spectacle it creates.

You might have figured out by now that despite the fact that, perhaps, it *should*, Christmas does not have a strong religious connotation for me. I credit that with the fact that I grew up as a Jehovah's Witness and even though I am very much not one now, there seems to be some core beliefs (doctrinal points) and values that stick with me. Okay, in all honesty, not just stick with me but by extension, exclude the inclusion of other things.

Yes, to me, Christmas is more or less a secular holiday, but from my point of view, that diminishes its importance not one bit. Because whether your view be religious or secular or some mixture of both, the Christmas season is a time for family and friends, a time to bring your family close around you and hold them tight, a time to take a break from the insanity that is life and refocus on what is really important.

Yes, I adore the Christmas season.
The only problem is, I can never figure just why, exactly, it has to end.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Canada's Rocket Man

I am currently reading (actually listening to - thank you Audible) "An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth: What Going to Space Taught Me about Ingenuity, Determination, and Being Prepared for Anything" by Chris Hadfield. 

It's a really good read listen - generally, I'm not much of a fan of non-fiction but this is one of the few exceptions. I was first taken with Chris (Yes, that's right, we are on a first-name basis. Thanks for asking.) when I saw him briefly on a television news show with Stephen Harper, answering questions from school children. Yeah, Harper, let's just say Chris didn't have that much competition. But still, there was something intriguing about him.

Then I saw this video ** and the rest, as they say, was history.  I was hooked.


Now, I must admit that I have never had any particular interest in space travel. Flying fighters, sure, but space travel, not so much.

But I have been wanting to read An Astronaut's Guide to Life for some time now and I am very happy that I have finally gotten around to it. It's an autobiography of sorts but more than just listening to Chris tell his life story (one of the many advantages to audio books - very rarely, the narrator is the actual author and, even more rarely, they make a good narrator), it really does impart a lot of life lessons.

In fact, a little over halfway through the book, I realized that Chris reminded me of someone else I deeply admire. Those who know, know that is high praise indeed. Different countries, for sure, but they had a fair bit in common, even if Lex never made it to space.

And because I aspire to be a giver, here is a nice in-depth (or as in-depth as you can get in 15 minutes) look at Chris and what he does.

Canada's Rocket Man, indeed.

And last, but certainly not least, there is an interesting story here about the Space Oddity video.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Me Like

It kind of speaks for itself, dontchya think? :D

Wednesday, July 2, 2014


I hope you and yours enjoyed a great one.

As for me and mine, I am happy to report that Yours Truly managed to not just celebrate our great country and spend some bonding time with my youngest daughter, but I also dotted all my i's and crossed all my t's ... that's right - I finished up the last of the paperwork necessary to finalize the change back to practicing status.

So please welcome my firm, MMC Legal Services, into the big bad world. And spread the word, this particular firm only serves the disability community.

Cross-posted at A Primer on Special Needs and the Law

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Samsung S-Drive Program

This looks awesome. I hope it spreads around the world. Soon.

So kudos to Samsung. And this is my little piece in spreading the word.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Whazzup, Buttercup?

Hey there all you hale and hearty fans of Free Falling. How goes it?

Whoa, settle down, settle down, all questions will be answered in due course.

1.  Yes, yes, I am still alive - thanks for asking!

2.  And yes, I have been busy. Very busy, in fact. My, aren't you all a discerning lot.

3.  Well, if you really want to know, I mean if you insist.

Sorry, I can't seem to hear you.

. . .

 . . .

Ah, there you are. Very well - I have been (amongst many other things) preparing for my return to the (part-time) practice of law.

4.  Preparing what? Seriously?? 

5. How's about my office space? My brain? My accounting system? My life? And that's just for starters.

6.  Oh, really, you want to know when?

Very well, that would be ... drum roll please ... wait for it ... July 1st.

7.  Why, yes, that is Canada Day (quite an impressive lot you are, I must say).

8.  No, no, that is only a coincidence. Trust me. But never fear, we shall celebrate both Canada Day and my official return to the practice of law in fine style. That, my good friends, is a promise.

9.  Seriously? You want to know what *other things* I have been up to? You mean this is not enough? What is wrong with you people? What more do you want from me? Blood??

10.  There you go, getting all upset again ... now everyone back in your seats or I won't be saying another word.

. . .

That's better. Now where were we? Crowd control can be sooo taxing at times ....

11.  Sheesh, no sense of humour, this crew. And, just for future reference,

12. Are? We? Clear?

13.  Very well, I will give you one little example of some of those *other things* I have been up to.

14. How about preparing for the high school graduation of BOTH my daughters? Is that good enough for you?

15.  That's right, I said BOTH my daughters.

16. Right, again. Both those graduations will be held this very month.

17.         ...

Sorry, I've just been advised that we're out of time for today. I regret to inform you that no further questions will be taken at this time.

Thank you very much for attending and please feel free to drop donations of any denomination (the bigger the better) in the tip jar on your way out.

What's that? There is no tip jar?

Damm ... I knew I forgot something!

. . .

Buttercup has now left the building.