Look at you

powerful coach passionate mother gregarious party-planner determined
sociable supporter resourceful daughter fun author intuitive artist helper
persistent wife quick-witted mentor courageous friend kind sister witty
compassionate teacher dynamic nurse emotional chauffeur truth-teller
cook adventurous pro-active baker honest reader hard-worker organizer
strong gentle straight-forward spiritual renovator sympathetic gardener
self-disciplined tough housekeeper lover understanding sensitive athlete

Happy Birth Day Heather
You are my sunshine
I love you,
Mom
June 24, 2014

The heart remembers

The heart remembers what the mind forgets.
Your voice, your love, your advice, your help, your hard work,
providing for all of us, the best you could,
your swearing (where do you think I learned),
your tickling,, your humour (all of my friends remember you being fun).
Driving so fast we took the corner on two wheels,
stopping behind a car at the lights, getting as close to it as possible,
bumping into it and sitting there looking angelic, both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead,
....me in the passenger seat, delighted and embarrased.
The image of you running down the stairs, rounding the corner into the kitchen,
forgetting the child gate was in the doorway, you hanging in a V shape on the childs gate, naked.
Laughing about it for years to come.
You, getting the child's head out from being stuck in the stair spokes, some too young to remember, only aware
because of family stories and history.
You and me, long drives, low on conversation but aware of the love shared.
You, angry, hot-headed, pulling out the belt, apologizing after.
You, in the garage, working, grandaughter in tow, learning.
You, sharing oversized cookies for your birthday, kisses and hugs.
You, helping where ever you could, rescuing us often.
You and me, sharing a scotch at the neighbourhood bar.
You and me, drag racing down 16th Avenue at Christmas time.
You, struggling to do your best with what you had and what you had been dealt in your own life.
You, in your hospital bed saying no one gets out of here alive, you with your head on Mom's shoulder,
taking your last breath.
Leaving me filled with pain, confusion, emptiness, and a broken heart.
Thank you for loving us and for being who you were.
My heart remembers.
I love you, Dad.
Happy Father's Day.
2014

C

It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance

I spend so much of my life second guessing myself in everything I do. I don't know what I am so afraid of. Actually, that's not true. I'm afraid of rejection. Of being abandoned.

My post about drinking is a perfect example. I want to be honest. I want to acknowledge my faults and choices and mistakes and stop the endless cycle of guilt and self doubt that is my life. I recognize there is a distance in my family and I want to make it better. I can't fix what I don't acknowledge. 

To write about any part of my life is risky. I risk being judged. Because to be judged is to risk abandonment and rejection. But I do it and then I think about it and go back and read it and start to think (code for second guessing myself). Did I start drinking exactly the first night I moved out? Probably not but it certainly was around that time. Did I drink every night? Well, no. But probably most nights. Maybe four out of seven. Did I drink for nine years? Why not seven or ten, where did I come up with nine? Did I drive drunk a lot with my kids in the car. No, probably a handful of times but then once is too often.

And then I realize I am having this conversation with myself and it's all semantics. It doesn't matter if it was seven years or nine. It doesn't matter if it was every night or every other night. What matters is that my behaviour and choices caused pain. Period. 

To my children, 

I am sorry that I made poor choices and put you in harms way and that I was not 'plugged in' at a time when you needed me to be. 

It was wrong.

In the future I will do better. I will do more listening and be less defensive. I will be open and honest with you. I will endeavour to 'get over myself' and move on and be a better person. I will love you.

Will you forgive me?

coming down off the pedestal

I'm going to look after you the way you looked after Gramma. Hearing those words (reading the text, actually) reminded me again of the perception that everyone has. What an awesome daughter I was, how lucky my Mom was, how fortunate she was to have me. I'm being portrayed as a saint, someone who put herself last and gave so much of herself.

The truth is that as much as I loved my Mom, and love her I did, I was impatient and short with her, often irritated with her shortcomings, and frustrated with being her caretaker. In the last five years of her life I was on a short fuse that cost me my marriage, my relationship with my siblings, and my own self respect. I was angry and felt sorry for myself. I felt as though everyone else was living their life and I had no control over mine. It was like one day my life is in front of me and the next I couldn't see any life. I couldn't leave and I didn't want to stay. I wanted everyone else to do their share but I was compelled to do more than mine. I was angry with her for having smoked and the first to defend her for smoking at a time when no one knew any better. As she aged she seemed to get more insecure and cry about her childhood and I admonished her for reliving the past, asked her why couldn't she just be happy. If she could be happy then I wouldn't have to be responsible for her happiness. I didn't realize the digression to her past and her sadness was the dementia creeping in. I can't imagine what it would be like to have lost eleven siblings, their spouses, your parents, your husband, and one child. And I remember thinking, I want my Mom back. As though it was all about me.

They say the hardest part of being put on a pedestal is falling off. For me, the hardest part is being there at all. The right thing to do is to climb down and to forgive myself for being the imperfect daughter that I was. I know she had. I loved her so much and every day I told her that. But I wish that I had been more patient, loving, and kind. I lost track of what life should be about not the least of which is the joy of giving back and who better to give back to. Doing my part in looking after Mom was part of the journey, not the obstacle I sometimes felt it was. If I could turn back time I would ask her questions and then I would sit back and listen. And even now if I listen hard enough, I can hear her say, it's going to be okay.

Happy Birthday, Shelly

Shelly, I hope that you experience everything you hope for in the next year and more. You are bright, considerate, thoughtful, warm-hearted, creative, sensible, humorous, sincere, and just plain wonderful.
Happy Birthday, Shelly. I love you.
2014

To My Girl and My Boy

The first time I thought of you
My heart filled with wonder
The first time I felt you
My heart filled with joy
The first time I saw you
My heart was lost to you forever

Letting Go

As I write this I acknowledge to myself that having lived my life introverted and emotionally controlled, putting this out there is a risky proposition. The emotion and feelings have always been there but showing the world anything other than the strong, confident me has always been difficult. Historically I have internalized emotional pain and found it difficult to share or let anyone too close. Six years ago I wrote something that would probably surprise some of my family and most of my friends:

"I messed up. I made poor choices and it affected my kids. It was a long time ago but you know how sometimes you just can't seem to get beyond something and it goes round and round and you are hard on yourself but you keep trying to get past it but it has become a part of you and it affects your life and your relationships and you want to make it stop but you can't because it keeps popping up just when you think you can beat it and move on and intellectually you know it's up to you and no one else can do it for you and so you keep trying and just when you think you might be getting there you get slapped in the face and you come right back to where you always end up only now you start to feel sorry for yourself which is somehow better than the guilt because now there's nothing you can do and it's not your fault and you can just be sad which keeps you out of the game until you get mad and self righteous and end up doing and saying things that you don't mean and before you know it the guilt sets back in."

Today I honour my Mom and my children. From my Mom I inherited the strength (but also the control). To this day my Mom can cry when she thinks back to her childhood and the hunger, violence, and shame. She still feels insecure, controls her emotions, but cries easily. Yet she has a strength that has carried her through the death of her parents, all of her siblings, her husband, and a child. 

From my children I learned to give love freely and unconditionally. They have taught me much more I think, than I have taught them, and I continue to learn from them. I honour them for breaking free, for gaining the strength but also the ability to be in the world on their own terms, sharing their feelings, thoughts, emotions, and beliefs. For showing their children (current and future) that it is not only okay to put yourself out there, it is emotionally healthy. And I thank them for loving me, the good and the bad.

Welcome to the Family

Welcome to the Family

Hello, Everyone.

For those of you who may not know me, I am Cathy, one of Gord's sisters. I've been asked to give the Welcome to the Family speech and while it gives me great pleasure to formally welcome Ferne, I have to say that she has been part of our family from the moment Gord was fortunate enough to reconnect with her four years ago.

While we all know that no one is perfect, there's no arguing that the two of you are perfect for each other. Gord, not only have you found the woman of your dreams, you have also found one that has taught you the value of a good pair of shoes. Many shoes. And the joy of shopping. For shoes. Especially Barbie Shoes. And who else would appreciate seeing you dance naked in the morning? Or the satin dragon robe we've all heard so much about? What did you call it? The Ninja robe? I was thinking more of a Geisha rob myself.

Seriously though, together you have fun and laugh a lot. That combined with talking and listening, helping and supporting, love and patience, learning to forgive, making the important things matter and letting go of the rest, is what makes your relationship and will make your marriage successful.

Ferne, you have an amazing family and from the very beginning, all of you have welcomed us and made us feel at home, sometimes on very short notice. An indicator of the welcoming spirit of your family is how wonderfully you treated Mom on her visits to Saskatoon where everyone pitched in to keep her company or take her out for lunch or even just to get her hair done. All of this with no expectation of anything in return. If Family is an experience that teaches us the value of relationships in life, the Malkowich family has learned this lesson well. Shirley, Fred, Ferne, Jasmine, Jayde, Julia - thank you.

The word Family embodies so much and has so many feelings and emotions associated with it: love, friendship, dreams fulfilled, troubles shared, and emotional, physical, and spiritual support. This is what we offer you as we formally welcome you into our family.

If Mom was here today she would say there was never anyone good enough for her son. Until there was.

Welcome to our family, Ferne. We love you.

To My Son

March 28, 2014

It seems like yesterday that you were born on a rainy Wed, 27 minutes after midnight, making your birth day March 28th. And here you are, turning 35.

I see your heart, and I see your soul. I see your kindness, your empathy for others, and your generosity. I see your doubts, your fears, and your mistakes. I see your triumphs, your losses, your sense of humour, your tears. I see your pain, your past, your sadness, and your joy. I see you wanting to change the world, to make a difference. I see you caring for those it seems everyone else has forgotten. I see you wanting to rescue those in need, I see you feeling the injustice, I see your anger, and I see your hope. I see the goodness in you, your patience, and your compassion. I see you waver and I see you stand firm. I see your smile and your frown. I see your childhood, your teen years, your hurt, and I see you cry. I see you listen with an open heart. I see a man who is love and all things good in my heart.

Happy Birth Day, Jesse.

Love Mom

1985, 6th birthday.

1983, trying to fill Uncle Gord's shoes.

1985, grade one.

1982, Halloween.

1980, Saskatoon.

1984, High Level.

1979, walking at 9 months.

1984, kindergarten.

1980, Saskatoon.

1982, High Level.

1983, High Level.

1982, 3rd birthday.

1994, Christmas

Mar 31, 1979, 3 days old.

2008, Montreal.

i miss you dad

Sixteen years ago today I experienced my first broken heart. I miss you every day, Dad. I carry your heart.
I love you.
Shaggyaggy
April 15, 2014 

Happy Birthday, Jo.

April 30, 2014

Wow. I've watched you grow from a sweet and sensitive child into a beautiful, compassionate, intelligent, modest, sensible, honest, emotional, kind, caring woman. I love your sense of humour, your straight forward and practical way of being, and your heart. 

Happy Birthday, Jo. Love you.

Aunty Cathy

August 5, 2004

Jo with Jesse. April 7, 1979

 ps.......I resisted publishing the Heather and Jodie naked in the yard in Bradwell picture.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom

May 10, 2014

Happy Mother's Day to my Mom. I miss you every day. My heart hurts and my soul cries out to you. I have imagined my own children feeling this sorrow and that is when I remember that you would want me to love with abandon, laugh often, live life with the curiosity and wonder of a child, give the gift of and to myself by helping others, dance like no one is watching. Thank you for your love when I didn't deserve it. Thank you for being there anytime I fell. Thank you. I carry your heart. 

Happy Mother's Day to those blessed with a mother who is their best friend who they look to for comfort, advice, support, laughter, and love.

Happy Mother's Day to those who have buried their mother and would give anything to spend one more moment with her.

Happy Mother's Day to the single mother who works so hard to give her children everything, often forgetting to look after herself.

Happy Mother's Day to those estranged from their children. May you forgive yourself and them.

Happy Mother's Day to those who have buried their child and face an unbearable emptiness every day.

Happy Mother's Day to those who don't know where their children are and live every day with dread and hope.

Happy Mother's Day to those who want to be mothers and are not able to experience the joy.

Happy Mother's Day to those who waited too long to make peace with their mother and now it is too late. Forgive yourself. She already had.

Happy Mother's Day to those who choose to love and raise another woman's child as her own.

Happy Mother's Day to those who were abandoned by their mother.

Happy Mother's Day to those with mothers who were (or are) distant and selfish and have never felt a mothers love.Happy Mother's Day to those who realize they messed up and the guilt is overwhelming and they wish they could go back and fix things but don't know how. Every day they look for an opening.

Happy Mother's Day to those whose mothers are sick and don't remember who you are.

Happy Mother's Day to those who give the gift of a child to someone who can't carry their own.

Happy Mother's Day to those whose children have abandoned them, leaving them to wonder if things could have been different.

Happy Mother's Day to those who give up their child so that he or she can have a better life.

May this day bring you peace, love, forgiveness, joy.

Mom and Mark's Mom, Dec 25, 2010

The Other Caregiver

March 27, 2012 at 8:58pm

 

Much has been said about the caregiving that Mark and I provided to Mom since she moved to Calgary in late 2002. I appreciate the kudos and tributes given that, over time (as any caregiver knows) there is a physical, mental, social, financial, and emotional price to be paid. Mark in particular is to be commended since he is not one of the six children my Mom raised, but rather a son-in-law who went above and beyond. On the flip side, the benefits are overwhelmingly positive and I am without a doubt incredibly fortunate to have been able to be there for my Mom and I feel good knowing it was by choice.

Yes, I was the primary caregiver. I took the calls in the middle of the night. I spent hours at the hospital. I called Mom every day. I took her to appointments, did her shopping, wrapped her presents. I brought her home for holidays. I dealt with all of her medical and financial issues. I did this while working full time and juggling priorities.

But there was another caregiver in the background. She has the type of job where any time missed is unpaid. She generally spent a minimum of three to four hours every week with Mom during which she took her shopping, played cards with her, took over for me at the hospital whenever possible, ferried her to doctor appointments, picked up and delivered Mom's friend for visits, helped me shop for Mom, and was my confidant when everything was overwhelming. So, kudos Lynne, here's to you. Don't ever think that you were less important in Mom's life. You were there for Mom and you provided emotional support. If Mark and I were the rocks in her garden, you were the plants. In the grand scheme, both are vital and we all (you, me, Mark, and Mom) benefited.

For my Brother, A Wish and a Prayer

April 8, 2011 at 8:21pm

 

I am so thankful that we said I love you at the end of each conversation we had.

You are still here in my heart and mind and I promise you that through us you will live. You will laugh and love, sing and dance, feel joy and laughter. You will forever be in our lives, you will forever be a brother, a son, an uncle, a husband, a grampa, and a friend.

May your spirit soar in freedom, may you find peace, and may your tender heart be warm. 
May you let go the need for strength as you listen to the sweet sound of the angels, and never shed another tear.

I will wear your memory proudly, my brother and true friend. I might cry or smile, but at the end of the day, I am one day closer to you.

I love you, Dean.

Happy Birthday, Gord (2014)

What a difference a few years can make. I'm not sure just when you grew up but grow up you did. You have a beautiful heart and spirit that occasionally lurks behind a facade of macho arrogance. You can no longer fool us. We've seen your love for family, felt your sincerity, heard your laughter, and enjoyed your play-full-ness. You have stolen the hearts of the young, and the old. You are my brother, and my friend.

I love you, G.

C.

Happy Birthday, Mark.

May 2, 2014
 
More than anything else on your birthday,
I want you to be happy.
You are the warm, caring, giving kind of friend
who truly deserves happiness...
not just on your birthday,
but through a lifetime of beautiful tomorrows.

Happy Birthday, Mark.

I love you,

C

Happy Birthday Bert!

Happy Birthday (Bert) Roberta

May 13, 2014

It seems like it's happened in the blink of an eye...days have turned to years, conversations have become life stories, and our friendship has become part of us. We've seen our lives change so much from one year to the next. But time has not altered our friendship. We've shared fourty years of laughter and could spend hours and hours 'remembering when'...parties, having babies, lost loved ones, tears, teenagers, weddings, laughter, sorrow, love, love lost, love found........and grandchildren!
Happy birthday to one of my oldest and dearest friends.
Love,C

Beautiful now...

Beautiful then...

Ticket to Hell

I was on a one-way ticket to hell and no one knew it better than my kids.Through no fault of their own they paid for the sins of their parents. Their world turned upside down and they felt responsible for all of it.

My husband and I separated in April 1986. The first night I was on my own with the kids, I drank. I continued to drink for nine years. I drank to drown out the guilt. I drank to drown out the sorrow. I drank to drown out the regret and the pain. I drank out of anger, and I drank out of fear.  

I am intentionally leaving out any part of what was going on in my life prior to leaving my husband or the years and relationships after. This is not about why I drank or why I made poor choices but rather being honest about the choices I made regardless of why. This is not about sharing the blame with my husband or any other person. This is about taking responsibility for my actions and for the damage to my children. 

I was your typical closet drinker. I worked every day, sometimes two jobs. But every night I had one or two drinks. One of my drinks was the equivalent to three. I drove drunk. I drove drunk with my kids in the car. I made poor choices and those choices compounded and I found myself lost in a world of pain with two children stuggling to cope, each in their own way.

I saw my son go from a sweet gentle soul to being angry and distant. When I realized he was doing drugs I thought I would be his buddy and smoke a joint with him. One Friday or Saturday night I let him and his friends have a party at the house while I went on a date with a friends brother. After all, his sister had been able to have a party and I couldn't have him feeling like he was less important. While I was busy going to the neighbourhood bar, he was out stealing cars. Totally unbeknownst to me of course, I had my own problems to deal with. One night I felt very righteous when I called the police from the neighbourhood bar because there was a gang right outside the doors and they had weapons. I knew my son was out and about and I didn't want him in any danger. He was 15.

I saw my daughter change from being a responsible, caring, and gregarious child to a hard working teenager full of anger with me and feeling responsible for her father's happiness. She saw what was happening with her brother and no doubt felt more like a parent than her mom. She blamed me for all of it and she had every right. I remember her calling me one evening when she was 16 because she had run out of gas and I had to go and help her and I was angry because I had already had my two drinks. A direct result of her anguish resulted in poor choices of her own and her only solace was that she loved school and her teachers and horses.

All of my life I've had family members and friends say wow what a great job you did, your kids turned out awesome, you did good, you should be proud, they should be thankful. Actually, they should be damned proud of themselves. They did good. They turned out awesome in spite of their parents. Did we love them? More than words can say and at some level they knew that but at a time when they needed a soft place to fall they felt alone and afraid.

I know that my choices caused my children pain and sadness and distance from each other. If I could have one wish, it would be that they forgive each other. Not because either of them did wrong but because neither of them did wrong.