Since my last post we’ve bounced back to alert level 5 with COVID-19. I’m not sure why, but periodically I envision myself many years from now reading books on 2020-21 and scratching my head thinking, ‘did that really happen? I lived through this?’
I’m working from home now, which is w e i r d. I’m finding it hard trying to keep work/home separate, so much so that I don’t like going into the second bedroom anymore where my temporary office is set up alongside Jeff’s gaming empire. Which is a shame because that’s where all my favourite things are; my books, my cameras, my art supplies.
Anyways. I’ll adjust. This is going to be ‘life with COVID’ after all, I don’t think this is going anywhere anytime soon.
“Its going to be hard, but hard is not impossible”
2020 was really something, in a lot of ways. Continuing on with my traditional post at the beginning of a new year however, I’m going to focus on the good.
Happy New Year, Jeffrey! Here’s to another year of laughter, weirdness and love. We’re both pretty tired here, having fell asleep waiting for midnight to hit, but not noticing until 12:07am that it was 2021!Yes, I will be your girlfriend ❤️One of many backyard firesBegan work October 1 as Communications Officer with NunatuKavut Mom and Dad celebrated 36 years of marriage Monica and Keith, my wonderful friends, got married December 18We moved in to our own apartment December 11
I’ve been thinking about you a lot the last couple of days. And tonight, for whatever reason, memories came back to me of how you were in the last few years of your life. It felt painfully fresh tonight, memories of visiting your bedside and holding your hand.
Visiting your house never felt the same once you got sick, despite the loving best efforts of everyone. I always knew I wanted to go into your room and visit you, but I didn’t know how. It didn’t feel the same. But in my heart I knew you were still my nan, still the same person I would take for Sunday drives, the same person who’s white hair I would comb for what felt like hours, just to make you feel loved.
Sitting next to you on a chair, holding your hand and making conversation was hard in the last little while. It forced me into places I wasn’t sure my heart could handle. But I did it anyway, because I knew that laying before me, deep inside, was the same woman in the photo on the nightstand, with a hand on my shoulder smiling for the camera. “Nan’s girl.”
It’s been hard not hearing your “I love you.” We don’t talk about it. We did for a while, but it’s hard. Even now years later you’re the person I want to talk to about where my life is going. I imagine telling you about all the things I learned in college and how I’m doing them every day at work. I imagine the change in your voice, when you’d get excited about the things I’ve done.
Having raised 12 children, I know you’d have an opinion about where I am in my personal life, but unlike others, when it comes to me you would have kept it to yourself. We always shared that understanding, you and I. But being me, I would have asked you for it anyways. I know you’d tell me to do what makes me happy. And nan, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.
Life isn’t perfect. I have days where I feel so full of anxiety I could burst at the seams. But thinking about you makes me feel calmer, because I know you did not have an easy life, yet you managed to hold everything together for yourself and those around you. We always had that special bond, and I still feel it now even though you’re not here.
I stopped believing in God when I was 12 or 13 years old. In times of need, when things get more than I can handle, I am lucky enough to be able to call upon my parents. And since you’ve been gone, I find myself praying to you. I know you can hear me.
