View from my new office space, looking out over the Trincomali Channel.
After much preparation and anticipation, we finally arrived on Salt Spring Island at 7:45 on November 5, 2009. We managed to arrive in the rainy season, and were pelted by a downpour while waiting for the last ferry to get us across to Fulford from Swartz Bay, but as the ferry neared the harbor, the rain stopped. I opened my window, hung my head out and smelled the salty air that I so love. It was good to finally have arrived.
The road to Salt Spring has been 7 years long, windy and often rocky. After having heard about it from Westhawk friends for years, I finally got to explore it for myself the summer of 2002. From their stories, and my research, I loved it before I ever even got here, and I love it still. Maybe it’s the return to the ocean, the memories of my childhood, the peaceful, artsy nature of the place. I don’t know, I just know that when I cross the waters to this island I feel a sense of calm and being home.
Being here now is strange, and the reasons we are allowed to be doing this are still so raw. It’s only possible because of the loss suffered in March. Although this is something I’ve pictured myself doing for a long time, the pictured venture was years down the line. It was to be somewhere after Shane’s high school when he was settled into his own life, when things were worked out for him…then this could happen. When he passed away, he bumped up my departure date by several years...and please know that when he left my first thought was not to run to the coast. But when I came out in June to get away from my broken heart and all the memories that bombard me hourly at home, I realized I could actually breathe. There was a feeling of lightness and possibility in my chest that had not existed since the time Shane had died, and it really felt good to be able to just be without aching for the short period we were here.
Things fall into place strangely when your heart needs a change. We’d come out for a couple of days in June to celebrate our anniversary (we’d been married on this island 5 years earlier). I’d picked up the Driftwood newspaper to see what was happening on the island during our stay, and in flipping through, saw the ad for a house for rent, 2 bedroom, open concept, ocean view. The price was not much different than we’d have been paying in Portage la Prairie at home, and it got us to thinking. We’d always said that someday we’d explore living here on the island, trying something different, living our lives outside the box we were safe and accustomed to. We’d always said someday, and as we looked at each other, we wondered if someday had arrived after all. We said we’d take the house, because we knew if we went home to think about it, we’d talk ourselves out of it. That we’d put off our ‘someday’ for somewhere further down the line. Then things continued to fall into place from the leave of absence I required from my place of work, to selling the cattle herd at home. Even the finances took shape as I realized that that cheap little student accident plan I purchased year after year to ensure Shane’s teeth would be covered in the event of an accident turned out to have a death benefit attached. It was like Shane was saying ‘here mom, now just go and do what you need to do for a while’.
the view from the beach where I take my daily walks, collecting stones for my "Salt Spring" Candle holder. When I leave part of the island will be going home with me.
So now, here I am. It’s good to be sitting here now, writing this from my ‘corner’ of the dining area, where I’ve set up shop, with a full window view of Trincomali Channel before me. The water absolutely enthralls me as I gaze out at it’s rippling surface. Watching the birds, hearing the gulls, guessing at where the various boats and barges might be heading…wondering if all that we’ve done to make this possible, to find a way to walk through the pain just a little easier, will work out.
Point along the waterfront in Ganges...
As I sit and type I’m surrounded by my knick-knacks from home, and my big hopes for the months to come. I’m also surrounded by my memories of Shane and feel him sitting here beside me somewhere, enjoying the view from his new perspective, pushing me to keep moving forward into what I’m meant to be and do now.
Till next time,
Lynda
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