The summer is quickly drawing to a close – Nick grumpily returned from Ross C.V.I.  today after getting his new student card etc.  None of us are quite ready for the first day of school.  All in all we had a pretty good summer – Nick and Meghan both attended camp in July, Nick for a month and Meghan for 2 weeks.  I think having a break from home was really good for both of them, just like my trip west was good for me.  Nick, I notice, has a lightness of spirit these days which I haven’t seen in a long time.

I was having a tired moment earlier today (in the midst of Meghan’s 24 hour marathon Harry Potter birthday party) and my friend Leigh T. said that I need to make sure I take time for myself.  My reply was that sometimes I feel like all I do is take time for myself.  I didn’t elaborate but it got me thinking about what I mean by this.  My job since Mike died has been to keep our home lives as stable as I can for Nick and Meghan and walk through this first year of grief and sadness with the hopes of finding some peace and equilibrium to carry on.  And there has been a myopic quality to this.   Even this blog sometimes feels this way…me, ,me and more about me (although purposefully I have chosen not to write much about the kids to protect their privacy…so that leaves…me.)

And I think I have found some equilibrium this summer. For about the last 5 – 6 weeks I have felt more myself than before Mike got sick.  I am crying far less and my mood and outlook have remained pretty stable with only a few wobbles here and there.  It’s hard to say this but to find this equilibrium requires taking steps away from my old life, which means away from Mike.  I feel a lump  in my throat as I write this and a swell of tears in my eyes but I know in my heart this is necessary – difficult and sad…but necessary.  So now that I know I’m going to be OK – I’m not going to die too from the sadness of it all, I can continue to move forward, integrate Mike’s life and death into my new life.  So not forgetting,  but letting go enough to move forward.  And moving forward right now means  a healthy shift away from myself and my grief ‘journey’ and onto a life which is defined by living, not by grieving.  Wish me luck….

(This blog has now been in existence for over a year as Mike first posted on Aug. 28, 2009.)

My reflection of these last few weeks is that fear is way worse than sadness – for me anyway.

Last year at this time we were all totally spinning from the news that Mike had stage 4, incurable metestatic lung cancer.  One day he was well and the next he was sick. Literally – he spent the week teaching at MKC and then the next week he was coughing, feeling weak and starting to feel pain in various parts of his body. And it went down hill from there.  On the Sunday night of Hillside he went to the ER and that night after an emergency  CT scan they told us he had spots in his lung and too many spots in his liver to count…most likely indicating lung cancer which had already spread. I will never forget the words of the ER doc when he came in tell us the results of the CT scan.   He opened with,  ” Are you a smoker?”  I think he said this twice actually.  As soon as he said those words,  I thought to myself, ‘ that’s it, we’re fucked ‘.  And we were.

Mike was then admitted to the hospital for 4 nights for many tests.  They backed away somewhat from the lung CA diagnosis…maybe lymphoma behind the lung, maybe thyroid or testicular…and of course we latched on to these hopes instantly. I remember thinking – it’s one messed up world when the word lymphoma is suddenly the most beautiful in the english language.

So we spent the next  3 weeks waiting for the oncology appointment where we would find out the results of the biopsy which is the definitive diagnosis tool. We walked around in disbelief and shock.  I remember feeling incredible panic and fear.  I couldn’t sleep, or eat and often threw up what I did manage to choke back. Mike seemed mostly numb and looking back I see now that his psyche would only let in as much as he could handle.

So  it was at the Aug. 13th, 2009 appointment  we heard the words ‘incurable cancer’,…’2 months to 2 years to live’……   So no more hoping for lymphoma….we’d gotten the final word….lung cancer.  So it was confirmed that  45 year old Mike Elrick, had incurable lung cancer.  And then it all began…that downward spiral which ended in Mike’s death a little over 3 months later.

I can’t overstate how traumatic this time last year was.  And not just for me – for Mike and everyone around us, all our friends and family who loved Mike.  But here I am  a year later…the fear and panic are gone…and so is Mike.  The fear has been replaced with great loss and sadness. And as hard as these last many months have been,  as I look back to a year ago,  what I’ve realized is that the  sadness of this August is not nearly as  hard as the the fear of last August.  And that I never want to feel such fear again.

My wife Cristine, youngest daughter Jade, and I got back from Red Pine Camp (RPC)  last weekend. Meghan, my niece arrived on Wednesday and spent the rest of the week with us, which was a real treat. Nick had also been invited but he was off at Kitchikewana for the month of July and Heather had decided it would be too hard this year to go without Mike. Red Pine Camp is about an hour and a half outside Ottawa on Golden Lake. It’s a family camp so every family gets a cabin; all the meals are made, dishes are washed by someone else, and there are plenty of activities in the morning to keep kids busy. Red Pine was a great place to be during that crazy heat wave as we spent most of the time in the lake cooling off.

We’d been introduced to Red Pine Camp by Mike and Heather and always had a great time. We’d go the same week every year (Week One) and we’d hang out, play cribbage, go for runs while our kids played and spent time together in the cabins, swim, or hang out at the Grove.

Last year was different. Instead of going to Red Pine, Mike and family went to Madawaska Kanu Camp. They had a great time. But we missed them at RPC. We decided to go back this summer. You have to decide early in the year to reserve your cabin. Cristine and I talked about how it would be very strange not having Mike and Heather there with us.

Being naïve, stupid, or just not thinking about it, what I didn’t expect, but for everyone else at Red Pine that knew Mike, it was like his passing had just happened.

So while we waited outside the  dining hall to go in for the first dinner, a couple, we got to know last year, Gary and Karen, approached us and offered condolences. Karen gave Cristine a big hug as Gary shook my hand, saying how sad he was, as he knew Mike from previous years. And then Karen gave me a hug. And it was one of those long hugs where the emotion was genuine, honest, and almost raw. And as she let me go, I found myself crying. Not one of those painful, chest hurt cries where you lose your voice, but my eyes teared up hard and I had to wipe them away.

Cristine and I also discovered that during the week, people approached her when she was alone, to talk about Mike. We suspect it was out of respect to me, but it does feel strange sometimes not talking about Mike, but knowing (or wondering if) that’s what the other person wants to talk about.

Another time, I was at the beach, watching Jade and Meghan swim. A nice grandmother sat down beside me. We knew each other from small conversations over the years. She started talking about Meghan and how she’d seen Heather drop her off, but hadn’t approached Heather out of respect. She thought it was great us looking after Meghan. She asked some questions, and like everyone else was still shocked that someone as active and healthy as Mike would develop terminal cancer.

I described how Mike had discovered it, and how fast it had overcome even his strong body. I mentioned how Mike, Heather, and I had run a half-marathon in May a couple months before his diagnosis, and that there had been no indication of illness. We continued talking and then she looked at my name tag (a button actually) and her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Oh… you’re his brother.” And I was so taken aback by this, as I assumed she knew, that it kind of shocked me to me core. I responded quietly, “Yeah… he was my brother,” and that combination of being emotionally surprised and naming him as my brother, my eyes teared up. I noticed her eyes were now wet as well. She apologized profusely, and I mentioned how it was maybe for the better, or else she wouldn’t have asked me any questions and spoken so openly. We wound up laughing at the mistake, maybe more to break the tension, and then she toweled off her grand-daughter and headed back to her cabin.

Someone else also mentioned that he was surprised we were up.  We said how, while it was hard, we knew Jade really wanted to come up, as she’s been coming up since she was one. But when Cristine and I talked about it again later, when it was just us alone, we were a bit shocked that someone (and maybe others?) would think we wouldn’t go to Red Pine. So only then did we realize that Red Pine wasn’t just for Jade. It was for our family to reconnect with Mike, to honour him, to honour his memories, and our memories of him.

Mike loved the outdoors, reveled at each sunrise, took morning dips in the lake, made his communist-not-capitalist coffee from his funny looking retro green coffee maker, played on his old guitar into the wee hours of the night, went for runs along the road while the kids were at Junior Programming, early morning fishing derby with the kids, played cribbage, had a few pints, and sang the mess halls graces at all times of the day. And spent time with his family, which he enjoyed most of all, as Red Pine signified that he was now done school for the summer, and could now spend more time with Nick, Meghan and Heather.

So we honoured Mike this year at Red Pine: Morning dips, instant (capitalist) coffee, cribbage, fishing derby, ping pong, runs along the road, pints, and playing guitar. Jade even sang the grace “holy holy holy” at all times of the day like Mike would. Everything Mike and we loved to do.

We miss Mike and we honoured his memory with everything we did this summer at Red Pine Camp.

We never owned a video camera which is now something I regret.  I would love to have some videos of Mike, especially for Nick and Meghan.  Fortunately I came upon about 15 minutes of video which I must have taken – it was sitting among the other videos and entitled 1998 family video.  I have no memory of this tape so I popped it in to see what it was.  The video is taken at Halloween and an afternoon in November a few weeks later.  Nick is 3 years old and I believe I was just newly pregnant with Meghan but perhaps didn’t even know it yet.  Within this 15 minutes are just classic Mike moments.  At one point he grabs Nick onto his lap and cuddles him close  and says to him ‘who is your family?” – Nick answers – “Mama, Papa and two kitties!”  This was a back and forth dialogue Mike and Nick would often have which I haven’t thought about in years.  Later outside Mike is chopping wood and in true Mike style he holds up each piece – names the type of wood and its burning properties.  As he lifts each stick of wood, places it on the chopping block and expertly splits it – I am overwhelmed with the familiarity of these actions.  How many times did I see him do this?

Hearing his voice, seeing him with Nick and seeing his enthusiasm for life and the simple things in his world around him – well I balled through the whole thing the first time…and then later on too when I watched it again.  And I am crying now as I write this. It’s like I unearthed this priceless gem from our video drawer.  Seeing Mike alive again…even in video was like a heartbreaking and at the same time heartwarming unexpected gift.

Mike doing his thing

I am thrilled to share  that Centennial student, Brittney Crawford is the winner of the first Mike Elrick Scholarship.  Brittney attended CELP in 2006 and was in Mike’s last Headwater’s class in 2009.  She will receive the $1000 award at November convocation and is attending U of G in September to study Environmental Engineering. Congratulations Brittney!  Many thanks to the other applicants – it was a tough decision with so many excellent applicants to choose from but as Mike would have said  - ‘that is a good problem to have’.

a classic Mike pose

Bat stars in the Inter-tidal Zone

I’m back at home after a really great time away and am now fully enchanted by Vancouver Island.  I spent 2 days hiking around Ucluelet on the beaches and in the rain forests, 3 days sea-kayaking in the Broken Group Islands and 2 days in Tofino exploring and taking a surfing lesson. On either end I had a day to visit my brother (before) and a night on my own in Sidney by the Sea on the east coast of the island right before I came home.  The highlights were meeting a really fabulous group of (wild) women, sea-kayaking on huge, rolling swells, seeing amazing sea-creatures, hiking among 800 year old cedars and surfing in the Pacific Ocean (surfing was actually my favourite!!!!).

As I was walking along the sea wall in Sydney I was thinking about how I would never have done this trip if Mike was still alive.  I’m unsure of how I feel about this. But my attitude these last months has been – I am alive, so as the world continues whether I like it or not, I might as well embrace this and that’s what this trip was really about. Embracing life – cause if I’ve learned one lesson throughout all of this – there is no guarantee that I will be granted a tomorrow. So yes, some days I am not up for facing the world head-on but I pulled myself together, flew across the country and put myself out there – in a beautiful place I’d always wanted to see. And wow,  was it worth it – what a great, restorative experience I just had… and how fortunate am I that I could do this?

When John Buttars was the minister at Harcourt he often finished the service with the following benediction – I’ve always loved these words and they have been on my mind recently:

“Go out into the world with a daring and tender love.  Go in peace,  the world is waiting.  And all that you do, do it for love.  And by the spirit of our Lord Jesus, Amen.”

kayaking in the Broken Group Islands

tree hugger on Willis Island

Dusk at Hand Island

After Mike died I set up a charitable fund through the Guelph Community Foundation called the Mike Moves Us Legacy Fund. I have used a portion of this money to set up a high-school scholarship to honour Mike’s memory called the Mike Elrick Scholarship Fund. The $1000 scholarship is open to any student who participated in CELP or Headwaters and is attending their first year of college or university in the fall. Applications are available now at high-school guidance departments. The deadline for applications is June 18, 2010 and the successful applicant will be informed by June 30th, 2010.

I would like to encourage students to apply and once I’m back from my trip will sit down with current CELP/Headwaters teachers Katie Gad and Janet Dalziel to review applications.  Looking forward to it…..

Well, I endured the Centennial tribute to Mike and Nick’s 15th birthday, both last week.  Endured is really not the right word but in the days leading up to these events, I had myself in a real state…tearful, vulnerable, overwhelmed…   Mike’s tribute was so well done – thoughtful, creative, and heartfelt – and once it was over and I could relax a little, I found myself energized even, by the support and caring I felt from everyone there.  And Nick’s birthday felt pretty good too – we spent so much energy anticipating it that once it came,  we were able to relax into it and have a little fun.  Just like the night of Mike’s tribute…lots of family around to love us and buffer us a little, from the incredible hole Mike’s absence creates in our lives.

So now I am off on a fabulous adventure.  At the end of this week I leave for a sea-kayaking/hiking trip on the west coast of Vancouver Island.  I have always wanted to visit Long Beach and Tofino and paddle the water there, so now I am doing it. Originally I was looking for a trip for when the kids are at camp in July but I saw this (through wild women expeditions – www.wildwomenexp.com) and knew if I could swing it, this was the trip for me.  I wanted an adventure – a physical challenge in a setting with no memories of Mike attached to it….but a setting full of beauty and promise.  I wanted an opportunity to be away in a beautiful space all my own and hopefully find some peace and experience the renewal and restorative powers being outside so often has provided for me.  So I am going for it- taking care of me, as so many people have urged me to do.   I won’t be posting for a while….but will post photos upon my return. I’ve added a shot below of me before my 10km run last month – I can be a bit of a ham but I think it is a hopeful photo…..and I will be taking some of this hope with me on my journey.

ps – thanks to the 2009 Headwaters class for the t-shirt – I love the Thoreau quote you chose for the front – it’s perfect.

Pre-race- Sporting Life 10KM

It’s been over 6 months since Mike died.   A long time….and in other ways a blink of the eye in the scheme of life.   With each passing day…I feel like we put another a tick in a box – for example – Meghan at Earthkeepers without Mike….feel the pain (oh, so much pain…), tick the box…next;  paddle with Nick on the river, find all the necessary gear, load boats, paddle on the Speed by the spot Mike hung gates as a teenager….feel the pain, tick the box…next; Nick’s 15^th BD this coming week….    And the old adages seem true..next time I go out to Edgewood, next time I paddle on the river it will be easier.  Because now the very last memory of that activity hasn’t got Mike in it.  Am I making any sense at all?

Looking back on the last six months I have little sense of time or even much ability  to accurately assess my own grief process – I rely on entries in my journal, this blog, which is a bit bizarre and my family and friends to remind me.  To remind me of  how I could only do one thing a day back in January for instance or how planning and cooking my own meals, which I am doing with ease now, was a huge task for me a just few months ago. Emotionally I am still very up and down but in many ways I am back to pretty normal energy and stamina levels now.  I still am only working very little so without working in the mix I can’t really say I’m ‘back to normal’.  And will I ever truly be able to say this  anyway? But I do feel stronger, more like myself these days.  So I’ll be trucking along feeling OK but know that certain events – like the tribute to Mike this week at Centennial and Nick’s birthday the next day – will knock the wind out of all of us…for a while – but we will feel the pain, tick the box…and as David said in the last line of his poem…carry on.  Cause it’s all we can do….

The poem below was written by David Elrick, Mike’s father, after reading Pathways (see Heather’s previous post)  This latest issue of Pathways is a special tribute to Mike. And what a wonderful tribute to Mike.

BLIND-SIDED

One day healthy

The next at death’s door

Why take a life

A life at its prime

We searched for answers

There are no answers

We searched for reasons

There are no reasons

We searched for meaning

There is no meaning

In searching

We’ve found comfort in family

We’ve found comfort in friends

We’ve found comfort in Mike’s wide “Family of Friends”

But where do we go

Now that the darkness is fading

While searching

Time moved on

There is no going back

So we remember

Remember to carry on.