Turning invisible.

When there's a death, there follows an immediate cluster of support and love.

This cluster begins to fall away a few weeks after the death; people are busy, they have their own lives, money worries and health issues to think about. The epicenter of grief puts on a brave face, a mask for the most part.

Months pass and life goes on.

Except for the crumbling inside. The missing. The opening your Skype and seeing their familiar face in your contacts, as if you might be able to reach them wherever they are in the beyond.

It's not the easy choice to remain close to the epicenter. We must allow our lives to fall away - work, play, Internet - so that we may hover nearby, and silently bolster. And that's why you haven't seen much of me lately. I'm turning invisible.

But I'll be back.


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The UN-Bucket List.

You've heard of the Bucket List, a list of things you want to do before you kick the bucket? Well this is my UN-Bucket List.

My trusty assistant, PickleWeasel, will demonstrate!

UN-Bucket List

There must be some shit you never want to do.

I made this list with Listly, so please feel free to vote up or down, or add to it - it's interactive - what's on your UN-Bucket List?

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Good things come to those who wait.

My Grandma once told me that she had warned Grandpa long ago, “I’ll marry you, but I’m not going to be like the other wives. I’m not going to stay at home!” That was back in 1935.

She definitely had her own ideas about how to do things.

During her life she had three children, worked tirelessly as a seamstress, served her community, fought for women's rights, joined and co-founded multiple organizations and schools, volunteered for UNICEF, became a Citizenship Court Judge, got involved in politics, and received countless honors in recognition of her contribution to the Italian community in Montreal – she even met the Pope once!

Grandma was always busy, busy, busy. Instead of calling her “Bisnonna”, the Italian for “Great-Grandma”, my children gave her the special nickname of “Busy-nonna”. And my grandmother’s notion of time was elastic. While she multi-tasked she paid no attention to the clock and often kept people waiting, not least of which was my Grandpa.

My cousin and I were just reminiscing about this. We both remember our grandfather endlessly waiting for our grandmother. He was a patient and gentle person. After several hours of waiting for her to finish talking on the phone/delegating/checking documents/making pasta, he would always raise both hands and in his Italian accent he would say, “Marrrrrry…come on!” And then he would wait some more.

My Grandpa passed away twenty-one years ago; he was in his eighties. My grandmother had held his face in her hands and told him she loved him as he slipped away. She missed him immeasurably, and believed they would be together again in Heaven…

In the meantime, she kept herself busy. There were weddings, great-grandchildren and always with the community engagements. Grandma lived on and on. In my mind, she became Immortal.

Near the end she was brave…so very brave. As I’ve said before, it hurts to grow so old. But even though it was hard for her, she still kissed us, nodded and smiled, told us we were loved. And then, at the amazing age of 97, she died. So my cousin was saying that at last our Grandpa didn’t have to wait for his Maria any longer.

But if I know my Grandma, he may have to wait just another few minutes.

Time is especially elastic in Heaven!

RIP Maria Marrelli.

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The Show Must Go ON...!

My precious Grandma slipped away from us today. At 97, she was finally ready. When I heard the news, I went to be with my family; I hugged them tight. And as we left I turned to blow my Grandma one final kiss from the doorway. But she was already gone.

Even though we were expecting this at any moment, the tears still surprised me. And then I thought what she would say;

"The Show must go on!" She'd stamp her walker, throw her head back and laugh. She had quite the laugh for such a tiny person! It shook the chandelier.

And so, since the show must go on, I invite you to scroll way, way, waaaaaaaay down...

Today is my Blogiversary. It's been two years since I leaped into the Blogger Abyss and never looked up. We've had giggles, tears, stories, eye rolling, we've poked fun at social media and we've shared the lighter side of parenting. It's been fun and I suppose I've done rather a lot of drawing.

Thank-you to all who have visited me here. I love you.

Let's eat cake!

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The Birthday Kiss.

Last week my grandmother turned 97. I don't mind telling you that she is really, really old. It's hard to be really old...it hurts. My mom told me that she moved the photograph of my Grandpa so that my Grandma could see it from her pillow. She turned and looked at it wistfully, smiling and nodding, remembering...she believes she'll be with him soon.

But not just yet.

I'll spare you the details of what it truly means to live this long in a body that's giving out, but suffice to say that my Grandma is brave, strong and a real hard ass when it comes to life. She's just not quite ready to let go yet. So the family gathered to celebrate her birthday, and although she was in a lot of pain, she did smile and tell us she loves us. And the youngest of us, my little Nieceling who is not quite two, got up on her tippy toes to give her Great-Grandmother a birthday kiss. Time stood still. The room was spell bound as the two leaned toward one another, the very young and the very elderly; no one wanted to miss the moment by fumbling for their camera.

So I drew it.

UPDATE - June 21, 2012.
My precious Grandma slipped gently away today. She is celebrated, missed and remembered.

RIP Maria Marrelli.

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Death of a child.

Tomorrow I will attend a memorial for the daughter of my friends, lost to leukemia.

The death of one's child is possibly the most profound loss that one might have to endure.
Does it make it any easier if the child is grown up? ...I think not.

I could barely draw this.

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Weeping.

Yesterday I noticed that Bambi was slowing down. I offered her some romaine leaves and she did munch on them a bit. But she suddenly seemed smaller than her friend Momo. She'll be leaving us soon, I thought.

Although we all help look after them, Bambi and Momo are the 14 year old daughter's. She got them from the SPCA a few months after her first pig Mr. Snow finished his long life. The SPCA would only let them go as a pair; guinea pigs are social creatures and many are happiest with a life-long companion.

I'm sorry to say that Bambi was not doing well this morning. She lay in her hut, her eyes half-lidded. Momo lay beside her and when I passed near she'd venture out saying "Weep, weep, weep!"

And around mid-day Bambi slipped away...

* * * *

Bambi is now lovingly wrapped in pale purple tissue paper. Tomorrow in the morning light, she'll be laid to rest under the paving stones in the garden. She'll have Mr. Snow to keep her company, along with Night Silver, Ginger and Misu. Come spring, there will be crocuses.

As for Momo, she's "weeping" for real... We're hoping she can soon settle in with Goosie , the 17 year old daughter's pig.

Guinea pigs make wonderful pets; they're soft and furry, and they happily sit on your lap and allow you to stroke them. Our kids have helped to care for them, whispered secrets to them, written stories about them and sought comfort in their gentle warmth.

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