Tag Archives for memories

Today I’m Reminded…

Today – and most days –, I’m reminded of a woman who I was fortunate to know in my lifetime: She was my Great Aunt M and she was one of the most kind and loving people I’ve ever known. Today is the day she was born and I prefer remembering it than dwelling on the day I witnessed her passing away. Even though I live thousands of miles away from where she once lived, and can’t place yellow flowers on her grave, I pay homage to her memory as often as I can because I learned so much about compassion and unconditional love from her.

She was the kind of person who, although quiet, was strong. Not everyone can survive being put on a ship alone as a young adult and sent thousands of miles away from your family to make your mark in the world. Not everyone would have been able to thrive in a place where they knew no one, but had to prove themselves knowledgeable and capable of saving lives from the very first moment they reported to a new job, but she did. Every person whose life she touched, in even the smallest way, still remembers her. The goodwill of her deeds still lives on in the community where she lived, eventually married, and raised her children.

I’ve been the beneficiary of that goodwill each time I’ve visited her small town and someone has made the connection between who she was and who I am. The pride felt in those moments is overwhelming, and added to the love and respect I already felt for the woman who loved me my whole life. It also made me feel more fortunate that what I know of her came to me, not from her professional life, but from moments that are more intimate. Times where I was fed favourite meals by her, walking with her through the streets of her town on cool summer mornings, sharing cups of tea with her dearest friends after shopping in the local market, or receiving small gifts that always arrived in time for my birthday.

Her memory keeps me positive because every time I think of her I know that somewhere inside me lives the things she taught simply by living her life. I know that I can be strong and survive anything life throws my way. When I am fearful, I know that the courage I need to overcome whatever I’m facing is within me. I know a smile and words of kindness can go a long way to make another person’s day or life better. When I am sad, I have wonderful happy memories in which she lives that I can recall. I know the value of doing good in the world because her work and its legacy live on. Most importantly, I know what it is to be loved unconditionally and what can come of giving love in the same way.

Today I honour the memory of my Great Aunt M and I am grateful I had the opportunity to know her.

 

 

Migraine Memories

As we transition into spring, I’m hit with an almost joyful thought: I haven’t had a migraine caused by barometric pressure in so long I can’t remember the last one. For a long time, my body had difficulty adjusting to the change between seasons. I dreaded the rainy, darkly cloudy, wet days that were characteristic of spring and autumn weather. I would wake in the mornings without having to open my eyes to know it was overcast outside because I would have piercing pain on one side of my head, usually accompanied by what felt like someone using a very pointy sharp tool to dig through either of my eyes. On days like that, I couldn’t go to work, before that university, before that high school, or participate in any other planned activity. My body required that I stay in bed as motionless as possible with a hand pressed to the side of my head and my face buried in a pillow to prevent any light from getting into my throbbing eye(s).

I would pray for sleep because taking any pain medication at that stage would be pointless. I couldn’t eat until the migraine passed because the smell or even the thought of food made my stomach heave with nausea. I couldn’t have anyone touch me either. The slightest touch from another person would make the already hypersensitive nerve endings all over my body make me want to peel my skin from my body. Looking at light was probably the cruelest thing I could do to myself. Allowing the dimmest level of light to make contact with my pupils felt like a blade of steel was slicing through, not just my eyes, my entire head. All these symptoms made communicating with anyone to describe what I was feeling extremely difficult. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, I’m still not sure, but all the women in the paternal line of my family suffered from migraines, so there was an unspoken acknowledgement when each of us was hit with an episode of this debilitating illness, which made the need for complete silence easier to meet.

I was also fortunate, during the early part of my work career, to have a manager who suffered from migraines too. There were days when he looked at me as we passed each other in the office hallways that he could immediately recognize that I was in pain. He would tell me to finish whatever I was doing, if I could, then go home to get rest. If I didn’t make it to work for the next day, or two, he was empathetic enough not to have calls made to my home because he knew what a ringing telephone could do to a person with a migraine. Without that support, I don’t believe I could have thrived and achieved the successes I did so early in my career in a corporate setting. Unfortunately, in later years I experienced less accommodating workplaces; and from conversations over the years with other migraineurs and from reading so many people’s stories about coping with migraines while working, I know how stressful being in an environment where people think a migraine is just a strong headache can be.

I’d like to believe that taking multiple ‘mindfulness-based meditation for stress and pain reduction’ courses is what got rid of my migraines. However, I still had some for years after taking those classes, although not with the same level of intensity, and I was able to cope with the symptoms better too, which felt like a miracle. Nowadays, I keep my fingers crossed that migraines won’t become a regular part of my life again. Living with the chronic pain condition I have would be impossible if I also had to cope with the crippling effects of migraines, especially when I can remember having some that lasted for days on end. Luckily, on this gloomy overcast day, I can look at the bright glare from the screen of my laptop and write about my experiences, instead of hiding in bed under the covers.

 

Blinded by the Light ~ Manfred Mann’s Earth Band

 

InkTober: Day 30 – Wreck

I try not to think about this too often, but many years ago, I was in a car accident that wrecked the front passenger side of my car and caused serious injury to my right shoulder. The force of the impact briefly disoriented me and it took a couple of minutes for me to recover my bearings. When my head cleared, I realized that my car had been hit and I was stopped in the middle of a busy street. There were many witnesses to the accident. A number of people came to my aid and someone called 911 for emergency assistance.

Within a few minutes, the police and ambulance arrived. The paramedics checked me and the other driver for injuries, while the police assessed the accident scene. It was clear that the driver of the other car was at fault for the collision of our vehicles. He had driven in the wrong direction down a one-way street before attempting to make an illegal turn. When he pulled out into the street to turn, he drove right into the front passenger side of my car. My car couldn’t be driven because the front wheel was bent. A tow truck towed it to my dealership for repairs.

The driver of the other car was a teenager who shouldn’t have been driving alone after dark. The car belonged to his parents and he wasn’t insured to drive it. At the scene of the accident, the police laid multiple charges and fines against him. One of the fines was an immediate $5,000.00 because he was an uninsured driver. I know that the other fines and charges were also significant and I could see the fear growing in him as the police spoke to him while they waited for his parents to arrive at the scene.

Looking back at that night, it’s incredible that neither of us had injuries that were more critical. The more incredible thing – and the reason I try not to think about that accident – is that I saw the accident before it happened. I know what that sounds like but it’s true. I saw the accident unfold in slow motion before I felt the collision of the two cars. I still don’t know how to explain it because I clearly couldn’t change what I foresaw. I couldn’t steer myself out of the path of the other car. I couldn’t slam on my brakes and halt my forward movement. I couldn’t do anything to stop what I could see about to happen. How do I explain that?

Not being able to explain what I saw may have influenced some of the decisions I made later. I never spoke to that boy or his parents again after that night. I took the information I needed from the police for my insurance company and left the accident scene with my friend who came to pick me up. When I spoke to a representative from my insurance company the next morning and she asked if I wanted to sue the family for more damages beyond what my insurance would cover – all repairs to my car, all medical expenses, any lost wages –, I said no. I didn’t even need to think about it.

What I did think about was that I somehow knew the accident was going to happen before it did but I couldn’t stop it from happening. Maybe my car was the car that boy was supposed to hit that night. Maybe there was a reason why neither one of us wasn’t more seriously injured. Maybe there was a reason the accident happened just a few blocks away from my home before I got to the fast speeds of the highway. I don’t know. What I do know is the soreness in my shoulder was increasing, but all I kept thinking about was the look of fear on that boys face; and I felt that taking more money from him and his family on top the thousands they had to pay in fines wasn’t going to benefit me, or anyone else.

Looking back at that night now, maybe that accident happened to test us both. Was I not grateful enough for my life and all I had? Was I not patient enough? Did I need to give up trying to control what happened around me? Was I unable to live in the moment instead of always looking forward for what was to come next or looking back and reliving all that had already happened? What was that boy supposed to learn? Did either of us learn what we needed from that accident; or are we both still thinking about that night and wondering why it happened?

InkTober - Day 30 - Wreck