Friday, May 27, 2016


I lost my voice last weekend. I woke up and it was gone. It was an extraordinary effort just to make a squeak. You just take some things for granted, don't you? The ability to make yourself understood. The glorious feeling of being heard. 
I discovered how isolating it was to understand everything but not to be able to contribute to the conversation. Maybe that's what people in comas feel like. Or maybe babies in utero. Although we must sound like adults in Charlie Brown. Waawaa waa. 

Turns out that I talk a lot of shit. A lot of nonsense that no one really needs to hear. That certainly isn't worth repeating 
12 times, I can tell you that for nothing. 

My voice is coming back. I wonder why it left (the combination of typos and autocorrect meant that that came out as I love beer!). I felt fine physically so maybe it was psychosomatic? Maybe there was something that I wasn't supposed to talk about, maybe it was something that I needed to talk about but was stifling myself. Hmmm. 


Monday, April 11, 2016


Today is April 11. Mom's birthday. It would have been her 61. If she was still alive it would still be so very young. I'm feeling better. I'm upset that am feeling better. Like that makes it ok somehow and it's never going to be ok. I want to dedicate benches and put up posters and photos and stories. I want to shoot fireworks into the sky that coalesce into her face. Just so we know that she was here and she was real and she was important and she was loved. Just so no one forgets her. I just want everyone to remember her and recognize that the world is not as beautiful and kind without her. I want people to say her name. Sheree. Sheree. Sheree was here and she mattered and now she's not and that matters too.


Friday, January 15, 2016

That which shall not be named

I love words. They have power, they let us play with communication. A full vocabulary allows you to be specific and descriptive. But words can also allow for cover ups, for dancing around the issue.

So. Let's talk about euphemisms.

They're a way of talk about something uncomfortable a bit more gently.
Euphemisms are substitution of an inoffensive word or phrase for something generally considered offensive or insensitively explicit. It's good talk, it's literally the opposite of blaspheme, evil talk.

doing it, hook up, sleep with - have sex
expecting, knocked up - pregnant
full figured, big boned - fat

What about death?

Kick the bucket, buy the farm, at rest, give up the ghost, six feet under. These are rather silly ones and there are a million others.

But the one I don't like, really don't like, is passed away.

I hate that people say my mom passed away. I hate that my mother in law passed on. I hate it. I hate that  in order to make the horrible truth that we are half-orphans palatable we have to say something more gentle and kinder.

Our moms didn't pass away. They fucking died. They died. And that's that.

No amount of soft talk makes that better or gentler or OK. I want to shock people with the shocking words of "died" and "dead" because you know what? It is shocking. It's still shocking a year later. It's shocking to me and I want other people to be startled by the unkindness of that word. It's hard and harsh and real. And it's true.

I'm sorry that the word died makes people uncomfortable but, that's the way the world is. It's uncomfortable when your mom dies. So your faint-heartedness can suck it.



Sunday, January 3, 2016

New Year - the cliche'd post

At this time of year the internet is full of year in review posts. Of looking back on the best and looking forward to the new year. I'd like to join in. I remember when I was on the top of my blogging game, back when people read blogs, back when this corner of the internet was full of people just like me, sharing their clothes and their lives (where did everyone go? To have babies, I suspect) and I did a 4 part series of the past year. Of all the exciting things that happened to me and my people. I miss that girl who wrote that. I miss a lot of things.

2015. The year of grief. Of all consuming grief, of the missing, the ache that was constant in my mind and in my heart. I miss my mamabear so very much. I fear forgetting what she smelled like and what she sounded like and what her laugh was like and what her love was like.

2015. The year of death. Of losing my mother in law. Of losing this strong vital woman (who I told was terrifying, when I meant to tell her she was strong). Of another family tree losing its leaves, losing its roots. This was a year of sitting in the same room in palliative care that I sat in 5 months before. Of sitting in the same lounge chair in the same hospice room watch another woman die of a sneaky disease that the same doctor couldn't fix. This was the year that her face lit up the room when I walked into it. And feeling blessed that I got to be part of this family, part of this love, part of this loss.

2015. The year of home. My love and I bought our first home together. We walked in and didn't ever want to leave. And then when we finally moved in I cried and cried because our moms would never know this place that is our home, that we feel safe and loved in. This home that is full of coziness and love and, yes, still loss.

2015. The year of love. My sister got married to her person. I got be be there to witness their love and their life and their committment. And all the laughter and all the tears that come from getting married without your mom. The jealousy that I have about other friends who get to have their moms there.

2015. The year of hope. The year my niece was born, just barely. The first baby in our family. The first wee one that we all love so very much already. I've never held a baby that was less than 24 hours old. I've never loved someone so much that was so tiny.

So I guess that was it. That was the year. It felt so heavy and so long and so short. Oh and I guess I got a new job too. But that seems so minor. That seems not not even matter anymore. I could be a barista and make gorgeous coffees and make people's day more positive or I could be a mid-level manager in government or I could be a super-spy or I could be a potter or I could write the great Canadian novel. I feel like I have equal amounts of aptitude for any of those. I hope I'll get to know more about my job and learn how to make it mine and how to make positive changes and how to be engaged in making a better world. But for tonight. I hope that the people I love are warm and cozy and know that they are loved.

And as for 2016? I honestly just hope that no one dies. Sad? Maybe. True? Terrifyingly.


Tuesday, November 10, 2015

One year

Dear friends and family,

I'm sorry about who I've been this last year. I know I've not been myself, but I'm not sure that person exists anymore. I'm sorry that I'm distracted and selfish. I'm sorry that I can't remember anything. I'm sorry that I just don't care that much about anything. I'm sorry that I'm overwhelmed and exhausted all the time. My exhaustion is exhausting, even for me. I'm sorry that I feel like I need to opt out of everything and guilty that I let you down when I do opt out.

My heart broke a year ago when I lost my mom, my best friend. It broke again when I lost my mother-in-law 5 months later in the same way, in the same room. This year has gone by in a blur and I don't really remember it. All I know is that everything is too heavy and social commitments seem like a lot.  Everything seems like a lot. Even putting away my clean socks. And yet I'm so so busy. Maybe to distract myself from the fact that everything is more grey now and the life we signed up for is gone, different.

A year has gone by. A year. I live in a different place. My sister has a new last name. But the weight of loss feels just as new. Just like yesterday and just like I've been carrying it for a hundred years. I'm a hundred years old, you just can't tell because it's on the inside where the hole that is mom-shaped lives.

Someone said to me when are you going to get over this prolonged grief response? I told them to fuck off, but only in my head. I told them that I will never get over this because she's never coming back. That I don't know how to situate myself in the world when I don't know where I belong anymore. How do I believe in myself when the person who believed that I could do or be anything is gone? How to I go about in the world acting normal when nothing is? When we've lost just the best person and all the traditions that she held for us. And all the littlest things that made us know that she was thinking of us and that she loved us. Who do I tell my day to day happenings to? They are little and pointless and only a mother would care. So I don't tell anyone, not even myself and that's how this year has passed and gone, my memory with it.

A year spent in a fog, with a heart that is crushed to pieces with a smile on my face because no one wants to hear it. They go to a funeral and then they go home. And we just go back with each other, each day feeling more panicked that today is the longest that we've ever gone without speaking to her.That today is another day and we don't know where to go.

Autumn is always been a dreadfully sad time. And now, I guess, it's for a reason that this season feels like.



It's pitch dark at 6:30pm now.

In order to battle winter I'm wearing sumer dresses. I'ma discombobulate you, winter.

cardigan: Ricki's
dress: Ricki's
tights: We Love Colours
boots: Bed Stu

It snowed for 30 seconds today. Pow. 


Friday, November 6, 2015

A spoonful of sugar

Halloween. The time when adults can act like children and promiscuous dress is the norm. Generally I love it. But this year I didn't have the energy to do much at all.

umbrella: part of the clear out of the store that the Gentleman Caller did for my sister's wedding day
bow tie: watch strap
top: Gentleman Caller's
teapot broach: Value Village
belt: Le Chateau
skirt: Forever 21
tights: Ricki's
hat: ?? 10 years ago
shoes: Spring

At work we had a Monster Mash Bash and I came up with Mary Poppins at 7am out of things I had hanging around the house. A free costume is a great costume.

However, the game was up when I met another Mary who had a baby chimney sweep as an accessory. Fair play, Mary!

For Halloween night we decided to forgo the 4 parties that were going on to hang out at home to hand out candy and watch Hocus Pocus. Brilliant plan.

Except, of course, for the fact that we had 4 Halloweeners. And that's only if you count a 3 month old baby, a father-in-law, and 2 friends who heard I had wine. Turns out my new neighbourhood has a severe shortage of children who want to venture down a dark, one sided, dead end street. Weird, that.