At a planning retreat last week we were asked to highlight significant events of the past year – both personal and work related. So I placed on the wall two post-it notes that said “bought pontoon boat” and “bought new car”. We didn’t discuss them as a group, and I wondered later if someone looking at those two notes was thinking “Wow, quite the Material Girl”. These purchases are status symbols – I’ll admit that – but they are symbols of my mental health status not my personal wealth. Their meaning and purpose goes beyond the tangible.

Much of the grief reading I have done over the last year paints a pretty bleak picture in terms of my longevity – grief takes a significant physical toll and it is pretty well evidenced that losing Jordan will have shortened our life expectancy. Add to that the stress of the years spent dealing with his illness and then factor in that I wasn’t exactly the picture of health to begin with, and it is clear I won’t need my retirement funds to sustain me much past the next 20 years. We also no longer need to save for Jordan’s university degree, or his wedding, or to spoil his future children. So the question became – how do we use this freed up financial capacity to make living more bearable?

My first priority was to search for a way to make our time at the lake less about painful memories and more about peace and relaxation. I wanted to find a source of new memories, a new way of enjoying the cabin that that didn’t carry Jordan’s history with it; something that our new, smaller, family could enjoy together. After a summer of early morning fishing trips, late night star gazing, and long lazy cruises where dog and boy and mom lay sprawled out under the sun while Dad captained the yacht, it is clear that the pontoon boat achieved that goal.

 So that took care of the cabin.

One of the many things I have been surprised to discover along this journey is that grief is a constant companion when you are driving. Something about being encased in that metal room with only your thoughts to keep you company opens the memory flood gates. I can be in a perfectly happy frame of mind, looking forward to a weekend at the cabin, get into the car and then find myself in tears before we hit Warman. You can’t trust the radio to keep you company – there are just so many musical triggers. The situation is compounded by the fact that we tend to drive our vehicles well over the 200,000 km mark, which means the vehicle itself is filled with memories. Transporting kids to school, to sports events, hundreds of trips to the cabin, camping and ski trips to the mountains. Those long worry filled drives to Penticton. That final terror filled race to the emergency department. Add in the fact that I begin and end each day in full view of the Dube Center (and really need to find a way to ensure I look forward to that drive every day), and there are plenty of reasons to buy a new vehicle.

Not the least of which is that I have never owned a new car. I don’t even know what one smells like. I can’t even imagine what it is like to own a car that isn’t filled with dried up French fries, sand from the beach, mud and grease from bikes and tools, the smell of a sweaty exhausted dog after a romp in the dog park. I had vowed that I would buy myself one for my 50^th birthday but there was always something else that we needed more (tuition, treatment center, new kitchen at cabin). Jordan bugged me about it constantly – mainly because he wanted the old Highlander – but also because he thought I deserved to have a car that was just mine.

So yesterday we drove to Prince Albert to pick up my fresh off the factory floor Rav 4 – complete with a big red bow!

A huge black crow flew across the sky as we pulled into the dealership. Another one swooped over our heads as we entered the insurance agency to get the plates. And then this one (the same one?) dropped by as I sat in the parking lot of Tim Horton’s waiting to hear from Greg that the insurance package was in place.

It made me smile. And wonder. But then they kept appearing all the way home – swooping across the highway, flying alongside me in the ditch. I finally stopped trying to count them and just gave into the experience and let the tears fall.

“Those who believe in the spirit world believe Crow is an omen of change. Crows live in the void and have no sense of time; able to see past, present and future simultaneously. They unite both the light and the dark, both the inner and the outer. Crow is the totem of the Great Spirit and must be held with utmost respect as they are representations of creation and spiritual strength.”

New car or old – my boy continues to find ways to let me know he is OK and that he is never going to leave me. So it seems my goal of eliminating the weeping zone by purchasing a new car won’t be achieved. But the edges aren’t as sharp, and it has a feeling of peace to it. And most importantly, we’ll be enjoying each other’s company in plusher surroundings – and with a rockin’ sound system!

One crow sorrow,

Two crows joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret,

Never to be told.

 

(Old English Rhyme)