I think this will be a post that requires many rewrites... many backspaces and rewording, and yet I still won't get it quite right.
Pulling in to the driveway at home, I find my children all waiting for me on the deck. Graysen has a small leaf in hand that he'd like to show me, and the others are just overly excitied to see me - not unusual for a sunny day reception. I stepped through the mesh door, quickly say hi to Reno and begin to rant about my daily perils. He approaches me, phone in hand, and I can tell by the expression on his face. "Your dad called...", he begins. That's all I need to know. I grasp the phone and make the call, my fingers trembling and my heart racing.
Dad explains that she's been in a coma since he found her that morning. She's resurfaced enough to fight them throughout the day, but that's as far as it's gone. She's not been able to speak or verbalize anything, but one thing was for certain, this was the toughest fight now. I knew when I spoke on the phone that this was it - there was no coming back, but in my heart I held a little bit of hope. Hope that this was just some big mistake.
When dad called at 11:15 PM to say that they were stopping efforts to fight for her to live and were going to make her comfortable, he broke down. I knew I needed to leave. I needed to see her and be there for dad before there were no more chances. I climbed into my car, armed with a bag of clothes randomly grabbed, a box of protien bars, and a large cup of coffee.
I arrived in Lloyd at 2:48 AM, and was completely unprepared for what I was about to see. I had envisioned her to be laying there, looking peaceful in a coma. What I saw instead was my mother looking like she had just been through a marathon, laying tense - her body working desperately trying to breath. My stomach churned and I felt nauseous. I held dad's hand and mom's and cried with him. We were about to go through the hardest thing we'd ever been through.
I don't think I'd ever seen my dad cry so much. His hands were hot to the touch, and a bright red color. He didn't let go of her hand for longer than 5 minutes at a time. We talked about how this was what she wanted, but it was still difficult to watch. There were moments where her breathing would get more difficult and the nurses would come to her aid. I found myself scared in those moments - frightened they were the last... angered that the nurses didn't react in a more speedy manor.
My brother, Russ, arrived shortly after I did. At the moment he arrived, we hugged - tightly, and with more sincerity than ever before. He sat by mom's bedside and stroked her hair. I watched the care and tenderness on his face as he looked at her. He felt for her - we all did. We knew her pain. We knew her struggles. We knew this was the last step towards freedom.
Mom began to struggle again with her breathing, and a nurse came to provide some assistance. She could see that mom was starting to slide slowly to one side, so she tenderly lifted mom's head and repositioned her. Dad softly said thank you to the nurse. That single act I think will stand out to us both as a genuine, non-medicinal, non-regimented approach to making her more comfortable.
I'm not sure if it was because of the repositioning, or if it was just time, but mom never took another breath. It stopped completely, and just by the movement of her body, I truly believe if she had been able to speak, she would have uttered good bye. We sat with baited breath, watching as her heart continued to beat in her chest, gradually slowing until it stopped.
We all cried uncontrollably - wailed even. We knew at that instant that her pain and suffering was done. We also knew we would have to leave that tiny room without her. I kissed her forehead - aware that she no longer felt me, but relieved that she no longer felt pain.
With time we walked away - together - with bond of pain to be reckoned with, and memories to hold us together.
These were her final moments, but they will live for an eternity in me.
Sunday, 30 March 2014
The People Pleaser
I have a problem. A deep-seated emotional issue rooted in my own lack of confidence. I feel the need to assist and please those around me. I feel the need to feel needed.
My mother always said I attracted "cling-ons". Not the Star Trek, funky speaking folk, but the people who desperately needed someone to listen to them and their problems. It was a role I could easily fill. I like to listen. I like to hold hands. I like to take the time to make someone feel better. Unfortunately, that need is typically never fully fulfilled for them, and they repeatedly come back for the same kind of guidance. In my time of need, however, they flake out. Scatter like ashes from the fire that suddenly fizzled and I am left standing in the cold... once again all alone. I'm also a loyalist, meaning I always forgive. I almost always allow that cycle to return because one day it might all be better... and in the meantime they still need me.
Aurora and I were walking around Home Depot yesterday purchasing a new dryer vent cover for outside. I was looking around at all the different supplies I could buy to further the visual appeal of our house, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Almost all of the work... the last 5 months of my evenings, weekends and spare time has been geared towards making someone else happy. Knowing a sale was in our future, I attempted to completely change the décor of our house to meet what I felt a prospective buyer would like. I slaved for hours... HOURS every single night after work. Granted, there will be a payoff (hopefully) in the end, I fear I toiled away for all the wrong reasons.
Whomever finally comes out and looks at this beautiful house will probably have seen the same potential it had when the walls were a pinky brown as they will now as a crème. They probably would still have bought it with the minor nicks and scrapes, and with the baseboard-less basement. They would have looked past the lack of a dimmer light downstairs and put up with the fixtures. In my mind, however, I had built up this house like I always feel the need to build up everyone around me. It cost me money, time and energy I didn't have to give. "Don't burn yourself out," my boss said. "I won't!" I replied. "Why don't I believe you...." he trailed off.
And now, as the house sits without more than an inquiry or two, I'm feeling a little like the woman who so desperately wants to conceive, watching all those around her rejoicing in a birth. I'm jealous and resentful and feeling like all the work and time and energy (and money) just got sucked into the giant vacuum of life. I am in my hour of need and I have nothing left to give myself.
There are a handful of people in my life I feel comfortable enough with to dump all of my trials and tribulations onto. Only a handful I trust to help me build myself back up. I apologize to those (you know who you are) because I don't want to be your "cling-on".
I want to feel confident enough in myself not to need to constantly feel needed. I want to say no. I want to say I can't help you. I want you to - just once - join me in my life, instead of always joining yours.
I know that I am not perfect, but I believe I'm worth the investment.
My mother always said I attracted "cling-ons". Not the Star Trek, funky speaking folk, but the people who desperately needed someone to listen to them and their problems. It was a role I could easily fill. I like to listen. I like to hold hands. I like to take the time to make someone feel better. Unfortunately, that need is typically never fully fulfilled for them, and they repeatedly come back for the same kind of guidance. In my time of need, however, they flake out. Scatter like ashes from the fire that suddenly fizzled and I am left standing in the cold... once again all alone. I'm also a loyalist, meaning I always forgive. I almost always allow that cycle to return because one day it might all be better... and in the meantime they still need me.
Aurora and I were walking around Home Depot yesterday purchasing a new dryer vent cover for outside. I was looking around at all the different supplies I could buy to further the visual appeal of our house, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Almost all of the work... the last 5 months of my evenings, weekends and spare time has been geared towards making someone else happy. Knowing a sale was in our future, I attempted to completely change the décor of our house to meet what I felt a prospective buyer would like. I slaved for hours... HOURS every single night after work. Granted, there will be a payoff (hopefully) in the end, I fear I toiled away for all the wrong reasons.
Whomever finally comes out and looks at this beautiful house will probably have seen the same potential it had when the walls were a pinky brown as they will now as a crème. They probably would still have bought it with the minor nicks and scrapes, and with the baseboard-less basement. They would have looked past the lack of a dimmer light downstairs and put up with the fixtures. In my mind, however, I had built up this house like I always feel the need to build up everyone around me. It cost me money, time and energy I didn't have to give. "Don't burn yourself out," my boss said. "I won't!" I replied. "Why don't I believe you...." he trailed off.
And now, as the house sits without more than an inquiry or two, I'm feeling a little like the woman who so desperately wants to conceive, watching all those around her rejoicing in a birth. I'm jealous and resentful and feeling like all the work and time and energy (and money) just got sucked into the giant vacuum of life. I am in my hour of need and I have nothing left to give myself.
There are a handful of people in my life I feel comfortable enough with to dump all of my trials and tribulations onto. Only a handful I trust to help me build myself back up. I apologize to those (you know who you are) because I don't want to be your "cling-on".
I want to feel confident enough in myself not to need to constantly feel needed. I want to say no. I want to say I can't help you. I want you to - just once - join me in my life, instead of always joining yours.
I know that I am not perfect, but I believe I'm worth the investment.
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
When a House is a Home
In March of 2007, we drove out to a small community north of the city of Saskatoon. Excitement building as we drove - our two kids buckled securely in the back - we spoke of big plans and possibilities.
When we were married in 2004, my parents' gift to us was the choice between a nice big wedding, or a down payment on a house when we were ready. This was probably the quickest and easiest decision ever, and the money was saved for this future house for us. We moved our family of 4 to a small 2 bedroom apartment in Saskatoon while I went to school and Reno kept us afloat with a data entry job. During this time, the prices of houses began soaring around us and the debts began to swallow us whole. I was due to graduate in June of 2007, and we knew for us to have a hope of renting, let alone buying, we were going to have to go out of the city. Having both grown up in small towns and rural communities, this didn't scare us. We began our hunt for the house for us.
Disappointment after disappointment fell over our hearts after we looked at many places. We signed up for automatic emails and spent hours perusing the listings within a 1/2 hour vicinity of Saskatoon. One morning, the listing for our current house came up, and we knew it was for us. Before driving out to this house, I spoke with my Dad on the phone. I forwarded him pictures and he agreed... if we liked this place then put in an offer and he would provide the down payment and assist us in getting the mortgage.
And that's what happened... we made the drive, looked at the house and fell in love instantly. Huge kitchen and dining room, tons of bedrooms, loads of space, fenced backyard for the kids…This was it! By the next day, we had a signed offer in hand, and April 15th, the conditions were removed. In May we discovered we were expecting another little bundle of joy and our decision was reaffirmed. Yes - it was a bit of a longer drive, but this was OUR ticket to independence, freedom, and a place to call home.
We got possession of the house June 30, 2007. On that date we made a trip out with the kids, complete with sleeping bags, air mattresses and some food. We made up our beds in one of the bedrooms, and pretended we were already all moved in. I remember being in the backyard with the kids and telling them to run around. They literally ran around in circles, completely unaware of what "running around" was supposed to mean to child with a backyard. Barefoot they wriggled their toes in the rich green grass and lifted their eyes to the sunshine. Happiest day of their lives, they declared.
The community welcomed us with open arms, and we instantly became involved in everything Laird had to offer. Hockey, curling, Laird days, slo-pitch tournaments, hall suppers, Halloween parties, movie nights and dances. Reno became so passionate about serving this small community, he got involved in the school board, volunteer fire department, town council, and, now, Mayor. We've looked long and hard for places that satisfied our evolving needs and yet would still allow us to partake in all that is Laird, and finally we've found it.
This house has been our home. I've born two more babies and raised them here. We've had sleepless nights and trips to the ER. We've had sleepovers, campfires, and nights on the deck. We've played tag, watched movies, baked cookies, and had many serious discussions. I've wiped kids faces - purple from cherries - and swept up more sand than I care to admit. We've sent 3 of the 4 off for their first days of kindergarten. I've snuck through doors quietly to check on sleeping children. I know every hiding nook of this house, and every creak in the floor.
This house was a key turning point for the Therrien family, and choosing to sell it is another turning point on more levels than can be conveyed. It's a departure from what we know, what's secure, and what has served us so well for so many years. While we always knew that a first house is rarely your "forever" house, we certainly could envision living here for the rest of our lives. As time goes on, however, you do learn that what you want and need change with time. We've now surpassed what this house can offer us in one single area - land. My heart pangs at the loss of this house... both the physical separation and what this house has signified to us.
This isn't just our house - it's our home, and I can only hope that someone will find and treasure this house and all it has to offer them.
Our MLS Listing
When we were married in 2004, my parents' gift to us was the choice between a nice big wedding, or a down payment on a house when we were ready. This was probably the quickest and easiest decision ever, and the money was saved for this future house for us. We moved our family of 4 to a small 2 bedroom apartment in Saskatoon while I went to school and Reno kept us afloat with a data entry job. During this time, the prices of houses began soaring around us and the debts began to swallow us whole. I was due to graduate in June of 2007, and we knew for us to have a hope of renting, let alone buying, we were going to have to go out of the city. Having both grown up in small towns and rural communities, this didn't scare us. We began our hunt for the house for us.
Disappointment after disappointment fell over our hearts after we looked at many places. We signed up for automatic emails and spent hours perusing the listings within a 1/2 hour vicinity of Saskatoon. One morning, the listing for our current house came up, and we knew it was for us. Before driving out to this house, I spoke with my Dad on the phone. I forwarded him pictures and he agreed... if we liked this place then put in an offer and he would provide the down payment and assist us in getting the mortgage.
And that's what happened... we made the drive, looked at the house and fell in love instantly. Huge kitchen and dining room, tons of bedrooms, loads of space, fenced backyard for the kids…This was it! By the next day, we had a signed offer in hand, and April 15th, the conditions were removed. In May we discovered we were expecting another little bundle of joy and our decision was reaffirmed. Yes - it was a bit of a longer drive, but this was OUR ticket to independence, freedom, and a place to call home.
We got possession of the house June 30, 2007. On that date we made a trip out with the kids, complete with sleeping bags, air mattresses and some food. We made up our beds in one of the bedrooms, and pretended we were already all moved in. I remember being in the backyard with the kids and telling them to run around. They literally ran around in circles, completely unaware of what "running around" was supposed to mean to child with a backyard. Barefoot they wriggled their toes in the rich green grass and lifted their eyes to the sunshine. Happiest day of their lives, they declared.
The community welcomed us with open arms, and we instantly became involved in everything Laird had to offer. Hockey, curling, Laird days, slo-pitch tournaments, hall suppers, Halloween parties, movie nights and dances. Reno became so passionate about serving this small community, he got involved in the school board, volunteer fire department, town council, and, now, Mayor. We've looked long and hard for places that satisfied our evolving needs and yet would still allow us to partake in all that is Laird, and finally we've found it.
This house was a key turning point for the Therrien family, and choosing to sell it is another turning point on more levels than can be conveyed. It's a departure from what we know, what's secure, and what has served us so well for so many years. While we always knew that a first house is rarely your "forever" house, we certainly could envision living here for the rest of our lives. As time goes on, however, you do learn that what you want and need change with time. We've now surpassed what this house can offer us in one single area - land. My heart pangs at the loss of this house... both the physical separation and what this house has signified to us.
This isn't just our house - it's our home, and I can only hope that someone will find and treasure this house and all it has to offer them.
Our MLS Listing
Sunday, 2 February 2014
A man's job
My mom taught me many valuable concepts and practices growing up.
She exemplified a woman of strength. She demonstrated day after day that women need not be bound to the roles identified as traditional. Women do not need to be seen as weak, nor do they need to have the men in their lives perform the physically challenging tasks. She built fences, dug post holes, built structures, hauled trailers, drove tractors, and the list goes on. She was diagnostic and analytical, and yet had the same keen gut instinct women tend to possess.
Anyone that knows my mom, knows that when she had her mind set on something, there wasn't a thing in the world that would stop her... and she wanted it now. I'll be the first to admit, that it didn't always pan out the way that she wanted it to, but she rarely regretted trying. Unfortunately - or fortunately - this is a trait she has engrained in me.
I used to think it was a weakness. There were times this idea or vision I had would block out anything that tried to stop me or tell me otherwise. Over the years I've learned to stop and think and listen... just long enough to decide that 90% of the time it is still a great idea and one worth pursuing. The other 10%, I'm willing to admit I was wrong and abandon the thought in its tracks. Procrastination is not a trait I possess, and idle time is something that doesn't often happen for me.
Over my lifetime, I have done so many of the "man's" tasks - for two reasons: the above mentioned determination, and the fact that I learned I can do most things any man can do. I have done automotive work, electrical work, plumbing, drywalling, painting, laid floors, etc.
At the moment, we are mid renovation of our house in preparation for its sale. Painting, floors, drywall, trim, baseboards - it's been a lot of work in a short amount of time. Shortly after we started renovations, Reno hurt his back and has been unable to help me. I was giving him a hard time one night, and harassing him to cut me a piece of drywall. This was something I had deemed to be "his job" because it seems more of a man-type activity. "You can do it yourself," he said nonchalantly. His response initially enraged me, and then opened my eyes and a lightbulb moment happened. He was right - I could do this myself.
And so I did. Over and over again, I have performed jobs rather than depending on anyone. I've nearly completed the basement entirely by myself. It's constant and persistent, but I'm tackling these projects and crossing them off my list at a rate that meets and exceeds my uber annoying need to progress and finish projects at lightning speed. Every evening and weekend is filled with mudding, taping, sanding and painting... I am loving it.
I thank the Lord every day I was blessed with such a strong and confident mother. I wait for no man.
She exemplified a woman of strength. She demonstrated day after day that women need not be bound to the roles identified as traditional. Women do not need to be seen as weak, nor do they need to have the men in their lives perform the physically challenging tasks. She built fences, dug post holes, built structures, hauled trailers, drove tractors, and the list goes on. She was diagnostic and analytical, and yet had the same keen gut instinct women tend to possess.
Anyone that knows my mom, knows that when she had her mind set on something, there wasn't a thing in the world that would stop her... and she wanted it now. I'll be the first to admit, that it didn't always pan out the way that she wanted it to, but she rarely regretted trying. Unfortunately - or fortunately - this is a trait she has engrained in me.
I used to think it was a weakness. There were times this idea or vision I had would block out anything that tried to stop me or tell me otherwise. Over the years I've learned to stop and think and listen... just long enough to decide that 90% of the time it is still a great idea and one worth pursuing. The other 10%, I'm willing to admit I was wrong and abandon the thought in its tracks. Procrastination is not a trait I possess, and idle time is something that doesn't often happen for me.
Over my lifetime, I have done so many of the "man's" tasks - for two reasons: the above mentioned determination, and the fact that I learned I can do most things any man can do. I have done automotive work, electrical work, plumbing, drywalling, painting, laid floors, etc.
At the moment, we are mid renovation of our house in preparation for its sale. Painting, floors, drywall, trim, baseboards - it's been a lot of work in a short amount of time. Shortly after we started renovations, Reno hurt his back and has been unable to help me. I was giving him a hard time one night, and harassing him to cut me a piece of drywall. This was something I had deemed to be "his job" because it seems more of a man-type activity. "You can do it yourself," he said nonchalantly. His response initially enraged me, and then opened my eyes and a lightbulb moment happened. He was right - I could do this myself.
And so I did. Over and over again, I have performed jobs rather than depending on anyone. I've nearly completed the basement entirely by myself. It's constant and persistent, but I'm tackling these projects and crossing them off my list at a rate that meets and exceeds my uber annoying need to progress and finish projects at lightning speed. Every evening and weekend is filled with mudding, taping, sanding and painting... I am loving it.
I thank the Lord every day I was blessed with such a strong and confident mother. I wait for no man.
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