Life after Fiona

From an October 2022 post:

[Hurricane] Fiona took away.  She took away a LOT; there is no doubt of that. The topography of our landscape and of our communities is forever changed. Some things will never come back; others will take decades. But Fiona also gave. She gave us a renewed sense of community. She gave us friends we didn't know we had. She gave us compassion and empathy for each other. She spurred our generosity. 

If there is a light in this darkness, I think it could be that.

 

Spring came slowly to PEI this year. The weather was colder for longer. However, the grass did green up, the dandelions came, the crocus and the tulips came up, blossomed, and faded, and the ground was warm enough to plant our garden by early June. 

After Fiona, we thought we might have lost the opportunity to see any kind of positive result, but about two weeks ago, we noticed something in our back yard. One of our apple trees, the one we almost lost because it had been pushed to almost a 45 degree angle by the storm, and which we shored up with some thick, padded staking wire, was producing blossoms. Not just one or two, but dozens of blossoms! One of the branches wasn't, and we decided that come autumn, we would prune it back.  But yesterday, we were thrilled to see that while the other blossoms had come and gone, new blossoms were growing on the branch we previously thought was 'dead'!! 

Apple blossoms from our Red Nova tree, June 2023

So this year, we will see some apples in the fall! This from a tree we thought had bitten the dust. 

As a matter of fact, all the plants in our back yard are looking greener and less spindly since the storm took away trees that shaded them, and in that way giving them more sunlight for longer in the day.  

Even the vegetable garden is growing better. We are getting carrots coming up for the first time in three years, as well as beets, spinach, and herbs, all of which apparently prefer full sun. Who knew! 

Our flowering bushes are budding. We are awash in lilac blossoms, plus weigela, spirea, hydrangea and rose buds. It's lovely to witness. We are so grateful. 

 

As I mentioned in my post, "Hashtag Fiona2022" last fall, we have developed closer relationships with more of our neighbours, and it's been amazing to see how those friendships have enriched our day-to-day lives. 

It's caused us to rethink other kinds of storms as well: events that happen to us that seem unpleasant and cause us distress. Sometimes, while the events themselves are difficult, they may clear some of the debris - things in our lives that are unnecessary - from our lives. These are things like unbalanced relationships, old habits and ways of thinking, and other hindrances to living a full life, making way for new and renewed relationships with equals, new habits, new ways of thinking, and a new capacity to experience joy. 

 

Life gets better if we let it.

No April Fool

 I'm not a great fan of April Fool's Day jokes. Most are pranks played at someone else's expense (a practice I consider cruel and spiteful), and so I weather the day hoping nobody does anything disrespectful. 

This year, nobody did. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

On the evening of the next day, I got a telephone call from a nursing home out of province telling me that my mother had died. I checked my watch for the date. Nope. Not April 1st. 

The next few days, I worked with the funeral home director and with loved ones to plan and arrange my mom's funeral. It turned out better than I expected, and although the occasion was sombre due to the reason for the gathering, it was good to see everyone again, and I was surprised at how many showed up for the service.

In the time during and since the initial rituals of grief and saying goodbye, folks have been kind and tender. And I have been okay. Probably more okay than I would have thought. 

Free photo by alexman89 at Pixabay

As we prepare for her burial in a few weeks, I've done a lot of pondering about how I've spent the last several years trying to be heard and believed about my lived experience as her daughter; even though I love her, it was not an ideal relationship for many reasons. And I've finally realized that people are going to believe what they want to believe about her (and about me) no matter what I say or don't say. With that realization, there comes a bit of ... peace, I guess. 

We all have that part of ourselves we only show to those closest to us. And I know that my mom did the same. Most people viewed her as a saint (in the sense that she should have been canonized...) but nobody knew what happened behind the four walls of our little house. Nor would they have believed it. 

Nor does it matter any more. She understands now more than ever how I feel, how I felt, and all the multi-faceted complex emotions that implies. And somehow, I am starting to understand the relief involved in the little saying, "April Fool!" when the joke is over - that the horrible thing that someone did or said wasn't what it appeared to be after all. That the truth is now revealed and the cruel joke is over.  

She can rest. And I can rest. And from now on, there is no more April Fool.

Only the truth. Just knowing that is enough for me. 

Getting Back to Normal

 COVID-19 is certainly unlike any other virus; don't let anyone tell you it's just a bad cold or a bout of the flu. It is AWFUL. It hits just about every system in the body: respiratory, circulatory, digestive, and neurological. It saps strength and weakens the body. I had a mild case of it, and I would not wish it on ANYone, including politicians (which is saying something for me). 

Hubby got hit harder. He was in bed for four days straight, lost his senses of smell and taste, lost his appetite, and even with Paxlovid (R) which we both took, he felt so weak that just the trip to the bathroom was exhausting, even after he no longer tested positive for the virus. 

Image by Miriams-Fotos at Pixabay

He still can't smell much, and can only taste the strongest tastes of sweet, sour, salt, and bitter. He cannot taste eggs or potatoes or even lasagna. Not yet. And it's been 2 months since he tested positive. He is back on his feet and able to carry on his activities but ... nothing except super-spicy, sweet, or salt tends to flicker his needle. It's been frustrating for me, as I enjoy his appreciation of my cooking. And he clearly misses not being able to enjoy simple meals. Oh well, we're told this part will pass.

In the middle of our recovery, we found out that our dog Bullet (3 years old, male Pomeranian) had grade 3 luxating patella (dislocated kneecap) in his left knee (hind leg). We took him to an animal hospital on the mainland to get the surgery done - and so now HE is recovering. He is doing far better than we expected, and we hope that by this time next week, he'll be putting his full weight on his leg. He's already putting SOME weight on it, and his flexibility has not suffered. He'll just need to strengthen those muscles through which they had to cut to reach that kneecap area.

It has been, as you can imagine, a stressful time for all of us, including me. Thank goodness for my therapist, who has kept reminding me to use the relaxation and grounding tools I prescribe for my own clients, in this situation, to avoid stressing out. And at our last session, she told me to remember the good that I do and the treasure that I am to people - not only to my family and friends, but to my clients as well. I really needed to hear that. It's easy to get overwhelmed with the path ahead, but if I take it one day at a time (sometimes one hour at a time) I get through it and I am often surprised with how well things turn out. 

Despite my aversion to the term "normal" for the most part, I can get back to my own equilibrium - if that is 'normalcy' for me, I'll take it. And perhaps I will (and so will the dog) get even better than normal. 

That would be amazing.