I have been feeling blessed by the spectacular weather we have had this fall – not sure I could have handled my grief and grey skies at the same time. The weather has also allowed us to delay closing up our cottage. Shutting that breaker off for the last time seems to be ripe with symbolism – the end of the season, the recognition that life is moving on, the acceptance that our boy really isn’t coming home again. But the weather man is predicting temperatures to dip below zero next week, so the time has come. I couldn’t face it, but luckily Lucas was craving one last soak in the hot tub (and a quiet place to study for midterms) so Greg has his son and his dog to help him through it.

Things have not been easy lately. There are so many pragmatic details that have to be dealt with in the aftermath of death, each resulting in another stab to the heart from “the sharp knife of a short life”. Like going down to the court house to apply for a letter of administration so we can wrap up his financial dealings. Filling out the form  was hard enough (name of deceased, date of death), but when the clerk asked us to raise our right hands and swear that the information on the form was true, I could hardly breathe. Yes ma’am, my son is dead.

I fled the house of grief last weekend to take refuge in a friend’s house in Kitsalano. She lost everything in the Calgary flood and has temporarily relocated to a beautiful heritage cottage three blocks from the ocean as she tries to figure out where life should take her next. I spent my first morning alone on the beach; my heart aching with grief and deeply regretting coming to a place that always seemed to draw Jordan. And then the strangest thing happened. A crow landed on the log beside me and proceeded to stare at me without moving for about 10 minutes. He then moved directly in front of me and continued our silent communication. At one point two other crows tried to chase him off and while they successfully moved him to the waters edge, he kept up his vigil. We spent almost 45 minutes together, that bird and I.

When I got back to the house, I looked up the meaning of crows and learned that the crow is a spirit animal associated with life’s mysteries and magic. The power of this bird as a totem and spirit guide is to provide insight and support intentions. Apparently if the crow has chosen to be your totem animal, it supports you in developing the power of sight, transformation and connection with life’s magic. Associated with justice, change, creativity, spiritual strength and balance, crows fly into your life carrying the energy of magic and healing. If the crow is your totem you will see things from a higher perspective, develop your will power and speak your truth more loudly.

If the last three months have taught me anything, it is to be open to each and every opportunity that offers to lighten the weight of our loss. So I decided to be open to the possibility that some higher force might be at work in my life. If nothing else, I will always look at crows with a little more fondness!

As we approach our first Thanksgiving without Jordan I find that there are still so many things to be thankful for. Like the many friends and family who have opened their homes and hearts to provide comfort, for Lucas whose journey through the strange land of Engineering keeps us connected and laughing with his detailed descriptions of his trials and tribulations with Trig. But most of all I am thankful for all the wonderful memories of Jordan that are slowly pushing their way through the sadness.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

“Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe  with you when she stands under my colours
Oh, and life ain’t always what you  think it ought to be, no
she ain’t even gray, but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life”   (If I Die Young. The Band Perry)

The last week seems to have just disappeared in a fog of sadness – I had several really bad days. For the first time in my life I find I can’t even bring myself to write – even responding to Lindsay’s daily text of encouragement seems a challenge some days.

We headed back up to the cabin last Thursday – Greg, Niko and I came home Wed afternoon  leaving Lucas to enjoy the hot tub (and the hot weather) on his own. Greg just headed back up – they will be home tomorrow night so they can do the MHAS Fun Run on Sunday. So far Lucas’s training consists of sleeping till 1pm, eating 40 dollars worth of candy from the Bulk Barn and soaking in the hot tub 4 times a day. I am sure he will do just fine !

There is now a “Team Jordan” that the Chartier’s and others have registered under, and Greg had some shirt thingies made  (not sure what to call it, they are like the numbers they give you to pin on only it is a picture of Jordan) – I will wear mine from the cheering section.

Venturing out in public still feels like navigating a mine field. I tried to sneak into the Co-op today to get more sleeping pills and heard my name shouted across the parking lot – SK (a nurse I have known for years) literally ran across the parking lot and enveloped me in her arms for a giant hug. Once we were done I wiped my face and managed to get to the pharmacy – where D the pharmacist (whose son went to school with Jordan and who has been with me every step of the last five years of medications and treatment regimes) also gave a giant hug. It’s lovely to be so cared for – but exhausting too.

I have been pretty much a hermit. I just felt so miserable that I could not imagine subjecting anyone else to me. Nor did I think I could handle a social encounter. But last week we loaded ourselves into the car to visit some good friends at Waskesiu and found ourselves actually enjoying a supper with them. And then today K dropped by with a care package and an iced coffee and after she left I found myself feeling better. So I am resolved to reach out more and to try and have some human contact (besides the dudes I live with) on a more regular basis.

My next goal is to try and make it in to see my management team – I just couldn’t do it this week – will try again next week. I finally started on the thank you cards yesterday – there are LOTS to write and it was weighing on my mind.

I start counselling on Tuesday – am trying to keep an open mind. Still trying to figure out the correct response to “How are you”. If I say “OK” people know I am lying. If I say “I feel like I will die from grief” people kind of run away. I just read about someone who turned the word “fine” into an acronym for “f…ed up, insecure, neurotic and exhausted”. I am thinking “fine” will be my standard response for awhile.

Jordan would have turned 24 today. We began his birthday as we have so many times over the years – lying in the dark on the deck at the cabin, watching the Perseid meteorite shower; heaven’s annual birthday gift to our boy. But no matter how many shooting stars we wished on tonight – not a one will make our wish come true. Missing you desperately. Love you Forever.

I don’t think I have ever been so tired and yet so unable to sleep. I am sitting out on the deck in the dark. My poor sweet dog is curled up beside me- he has been so sad and mournful today. We are listening to Jann Arden’s ” Hanging by a Thread” and having a little cry.

I have struggled all afternoon to find a word to describe today’s experience. Wonderful. Horrible. Satisfying. Sad. Final. Cathartic.

Today at the funeral home we said our final goodbyes. Everyone brought a private note to place with Jordan. Someone brought flowers to tuck under his hands. We brought his favourite hat, Niko’s first collar and leash, the letter telling him he made Dean’s list. Letters we had written to him over the years. A picture of Jordan and I taken about an hour after he was born. I borrowed Lindsay’s copy of Robert Munsch’s ” Love You Forever”, read it to him one last time and placed it on his heart.

We then carefully wrapped him in the sheet, placed the lid on the wooden box and nailed it shut.

Everyone was then invited to write and draw messages of love and remembrance on the coffin. We then joined hands and circled him for one final prayer.

And  then the three of us wrapped our arms around each other and cried our  hearts out.

I am so proud of Lucas. He has been there every minute. He helped lift his  brother from the table to the box. He has never left my side. He seems to  have aged 5 years this week.

I think Jordan would have been pleased; a simple wooden box and then into the  flames – just like the Vikings.  It seemed so right to do it this way – comforting somehow. At the end I  knew Jordan wasn’t there anymore – I could not feel his spirit and I felt  a small degree of peace.  I like to imagine that he and Paulette are  sitting by a lake somewhere, having some tea and a long talk.

Tuesday can’t come soon enough