Family time in Ontario

This was a very emotional visit to Ontario.  We spent time with my brothers and their families, my mother, my old friends, and my first visit to my Dad’s grave since he passed away 4 years ago.   This felt like a good-bye.  It wasn’t exactly the trip we had planned, but that was okay.

I’ll start with the high points.  We don’t often get to see each other as a family; me, Brett, our kids, my mom, and my two brothers and their families.  We had a few great dinners and chances to catch up.

I also met up with Linda and Adrienne, two close friends from high school.  The kind of friends that you can go a year or more without speaking to them but pick up where you left off without skipping a beat.  Hard to believe we’ve been friends now for over 30 years.   We had a great sunny day in a park (see sunburn in later photo ☹) where we had the chance to catch up while watching all our kids play together.   

Ronan is crazy about basketball these days and was over the moon that Adrienne very thoughtfully gave him a basketball.  Despite our issues with overpacking for this trip, the basketball is with us on the plane as I write this on our way to Spain. 

We solved the problem of all the heavy school textbooks that we were traveling with.  It took a day of driving around to different places, but we finally managed to get them all scanned so we have them electronically.  It felt good to put those books into recycling rather than back into our bags.

On the last day, we stopped at the cemetery to visit my Dad’s grave.  We miss him so much and I’m glad to keep his memory strong and alive with my kids.  We all talked about what we remember about Grandad and looked at some pictures of him while at the cemetery. 

The main reason for visiting Ontario was to see my mom.  We try to get back every 6 months to see her.

Me and my mom.  There’s no doubt we’ve had a challenging relationship over the years – we’re very different people, but we love each other.  I have so many memories of my childhood with my mom. I remember her taking me to my first day of junior kindergarten.  I clung to her skirt in pure fear and I can remember the blurry view of the playground through my tear-filled eyes.  I did not let go.  I remember feeling safe and comforted when I was sick as a child.   I had several stays in the hospital as a child and I remember my mom there with me the whole time.  More than the memories of time and place, I remember the feeling of safety and comfort she gave me when I was scared or sick.  I also remember that she was so sick with worry during one of the exams that I had during my hospital stay that they had to take her to the ER after passing out.  I remember always appreciating her love and concern for my safety and happiness but I realized even at a young age that her worry was often in excess.  I’m quite sure that she has suffered from some form of anxiety for most of her life.  I remember traveling to Europe with her as a teenager.  I also remember her having an anxiety attack that seemed to last the entire journey over the Atlantic.  Once that plane ride was over,  I remember having so much fun on that trip, my first real taste of what the greater world looked like.  I also remember my mom at my wedding, flying to Vancouver with my dad despite her crippling fear of flying.

Last night, on my last night in Ontario on this visit, after spending 6 days with her, she told me that she had been crying all day because she wasn’t sure who I was.   She thought she might be my mother (but couldn’t remember the word for mother) but she wasn’t sure.  My heart hurt.  She has dementia.  Her memories are slipping away, quickly.   When she asked me whether I was her daughter, she seemed so lost.  When I told her that yes, she was my mother, she seemed so relieved and happy.  Perhaps for that moment, I had given her that same feeling of safety and comfort that she had given me for so many years.  I think some days she does know who I am, but I can’t be completely sure.  She is so polite and eager to please that she goes with the flow, even if she’s not entirely sure who she is with or where she is going.  It is so sad when all you’re left with after all of life’s experiences are your memories and then this cruel disease robs you of them.

So here we are, off to Spain with heavy hearts.  No doubt I won’t wait another six months to see my mom again.   And between visits I’ll be calling her and sending her photos of our travels to keep that seed of a memory alive until we see each other again.