Journal

Yesterday, October 25 2009, was the service at St. Michaels Church held by Francis House, the hospice that cared for Daddy until he passed away, to celebrate the lives and memories of those in their care who died in the past year.  Mama went, as did my sisters Donna and Carol and my friend Tom, Carols husband, daughter and son-in-law also attended and everyone said that the service was comforting and stirring at the same time.  It was a memorial more than a Mass; there were meditations and poems, songs and reflections as well as prayers and the lighting of candles.  A slide show of the deceased was shown, and for those who had no photo there were slides with lovely bouquets and their names and who they were.

I was not able to attend because having started a new job in June (I was downsized out of the old one), I have no vacation days left and it takes a full day to go and a full day to come back from where Mama and the family live.

Now I can no longer say, Last year at this time he was here.  I am sad and anxious and depressed, but I am fighting through it the best I can, with prayer and an on-line grief group that helps me mostly by being there when I need to talk.  There is no one here to talk to.  The one group I found was not helpful because we got no feedback and were not permitted to give any; it was just like talking to the cat and I had to go out to sit there like a little lady and keep quiet until my turn to speak to silence.  I can speak to silence at home, and my cat is very sympathetic.

My work is too hard for me, and people around me are being pressured about this alleged swine flu *epidemic* which is frustrating those trying to stampede us into a panic by not believing there is anything worth worrying about.

Toronto --Canada has had its Thanksgiving.  My Mama and sister were to come up here to spend the weekend with me, and as always, they cancelled.  Mama in fact told everyone EXCEPT ME that she was not coming.

Now to be fair, my sister cancelled because she is going through yet another messy divorce, and Mama is nervous about travelling alone, and I told her that she had to consider her own comfort; she is 82 after all and travelling is getting difficult for her.  That being said, I have another sister in that area, a friend who offered to come down and drive her up, and a number of relatives who could have done the same.

Nobody volunteered.

I have had one visit from family in 11 years.  I have visited them frequently, the ones who live nearby and the ones that do not.  They have visited each other, and they have travelled to Florida and to visit in-laws.  They promise frequently to visit me.  They never do.

I was fortunate to have a friend come and spend two of the three weekend days with me and we had a great time together -- a friend from the States, mind you, since Thanksgiving in Canada does not include inviting friends to dinner as it does in the USA.  In fact, no holiday involves inviting friends or strangers to dinner.  The spirit of charity is pretty much extinguished up here.

That is the end of my holiday complaint.  I will try not to have another one at Christmas, which is the next holiday here that you get if you are not a government employee.  There is no earthly use even bothering.  (My family have already asked if I am coming over to spend Christmas with them.  They just figure I understand that they just are not coming here.)

October 4, 2009 -- The first anniversary of my fathers death is Wednesday.  The hospice is having their annual Mass for those who died this month in the previous year on October 25 -- I am not on their list because I do not live in the USA, but Mama mentioned it to me the other day.  I cannot go because I cannot drive -- it takes a full day by train to get there and a full day to get home, and I do not have enough vacation days because of having to get a new job in June.

This is the last week I can say *last year at this time he was here.*

Last year at this time I was agonizing over whether to go to Road Atlanta, which was held the first weekend of October last year, which decision was made for me by a categorical refusal of all my friends (a couple of them blaming their wives) to pick me up at the airport or return me thereto.  (I have not been able to drive a car for most of my life, and do not understand the way some people seem to look on a friend begging a ride in the same light as they view a home invasion by drug gangs.)  As it turned out, this was the hand of God, as Daddy died the day after I would have returned home.

This year I attended that race and there were so many things I would have loved to discuss with Daddy -- particularly the first ever pole position for David Murry in the GT40 Ford of Robertson Racing -- which runs its team on a budget equal to what Audi spends on sandwiches, beating a field of Porsche, Ferrari, BMW and other foreign marques driven by guys of the highest quality and experience.  Daddy was a Ford man all his life and how he would have loved this!  I was comforted by my four days at RA because I have so many friends there and my country is so much more civil than the one in which I am now living.  Or perhaps I simply understand it better. 

I will be alone to celebrate Daddys life on the anniverary of his Going to Glory; after 12 years I still have no friends or companions here in Canada.  But I will spend the day looking over my photo albums and remembering the happy years.