MacGregor Collegiate Class of 2010 Graduation

Memorial Inukshuks made by Sheila Kornago of Winnipeg

Wow, here we are on August eve, 2010. We are half way through the short summers we enjoy here on the prairies, and already some morning walks have the kiss of fall.

I have so many things I want to write about, and so little time to capture my thoughts these days it seems. But there are things that I should have documented earlier, and didn’t get around to, and today I wanted to share some of those.

June 24 was MacGregor Collegiate Institute graduation for the class of 2010. It will go down in history as one of the hardest, hardest days I will ever endure. It was the day that Shane should have graduated with his peers. It was a day I’d long dreamed of, seeing him sitting up there on the stage amongst them. IT was a day that never came for him….but it did for me, and I hope that because of that, he was there, he was in the room and on the stage and in the hearts of all that graduated with him. The school and graduates invited us to be part of all that went on that day, and it was an honor to be included.

I’d been racking my brain since last summer about how to pay tribute to these amazing young people, who had had such significant roles in the life he was able to live. I didn’t want the day to slip by without somehow acknowledging the contributions that each of them had made, and finally, weeks before the day, it came to me. I was sitting at my desk, puzzling yet again, and I looked up at the beautiful glass Inukshuk that proudly sits at the edge of the shelf, watching over me. Of course!! Inukshuks are so symbolic of what I wanted to say…’someone passed this way’….I emailed Sheila Kornago of Stained Glass by Sheila and asked if it were possible to have 52 of them made in the 5 weeks between my thinking of them and the graduation. She said she certainly could, and my dilemma was solved.

I’d also been discussing my dilemma with my sister and my brother in law, who is very involved in the construction of the new Canadian Museum for Human Rights. They decided to also contribute a museum pin to each of Shane’s classmates, so appropriate.

Canadian Museum for Human Rights Commerative Shine pin.

I was lucky also, that as I annually present the Shane Dickson Memorial award for Inclusion, that the staff at MCI gave me the time and support needed to present the gifts and address Shane’s classmates. The address went as follows:

“As you can imagine, today is probably one of the toughest days I will face, and even though it saddens me not to see Shane sitting there amongst you on this special occasion, I know he is standing here beside me with his arm around my shoulder….propping me up, cheering you on, and hooting with pride for all of you, his fellow classmates! I too am so proud to have been given the opportunity to address this very, very special class as you head out into your new lives. You leave here a class of students, but you’re already a class of citizens who has changed rules and boundaries through your actions and acceptance of a young man, who was fortunate enough to have had the opportunity to be educated along side of you.
I hope each of you leave this stage of your lives knowing the difference you have made in countless lives, most of which we may never know of. When you started school 13 years ago, alongside a child who did everything differently, you showed how very little differences truly matter. I know that there were people that questioned Shane being supported to be educated alongside children who didn’t face the monumental challenges he did, and I have anonymous letters to prove that. However, your supports and friendships gave him what he needed to live life fully, and you gave this Mom’s dreams for her son wings to fly. I don’t know how many of you know this, but the example you all set and the experience you provided for Shane has been shared around the world. It even became part of the department of education’s paper to present at last year’s Inclusion Summit in Spain. And every day, it continues to give hope to parents of other children with special needs, as they start their unique journey. I am so proud of and grateful to each of you.
To recognize your accomplishment, I have a small gift for each of you that I will hand out as you pass me after receiving your diploma. It includes a inukshuk that I hope you will find a place for in your lives ahead. Inukshuk means “stone man that points the way” Their purpose was to show directions and guide the way. They stand as a symbol of the importance of friendship and to remind us of our dependence on one another. I hope it will remind you of the valued piece you played in pointing the way towards full inclusion for a fellow classmate.
Shane’s aunt and uncle, have also provided each of you with a ‘Shine’ pin from the Canadian Museum for Human Rights. The verse says “there is a star born in each of us when we open our minds to let in the light. When we brighten a darkened path. When we see our reflection in each other. We Shine.” You have shone brightly, each and every one of you. I hope you always continue to do so.”

Of course, part of the day involved presenting the award. I’ve left it up to the staff at MCI to decide who merits it. When Shane was there, and I was actively involved I may have been more able to suggest, but now I feel they are the ones that must decide. I was so happy this year when they chose Trem Cleaver! Trem had been best friends with Shane since they were 4 years old, and I believe he is such a big part of Shane having been accepted as one of the gang. His acceptance of Shane for who was encouraged others to do the same, and I know it made a huge difference in everything Shane got to experience. I felt absolutely no guilt in handing that award to Shane’s best friend, as I know he will continue to live his life making differences for others, just as he did for Shane.

Trem and I, Graduation, June 24, 2010

I got a text from Trem a few weeks ago, wanting to talk to me. He wondered if it was okay with me that he planned to get a tattoo, his first, and he wanted it to be Shane’s initials and the years of his life. Wow…what could I say, but of course? Shane would be thrilled, and my eyes teared knowing that throughout all of Trem’s years, questions will be asked about what that tattoo means, and Shane will be remembered and shared as he tells people. What a great tribute. How times have changed….100 years ago he may have lived and died and been buried in an unmarked grave, because children with his needs were viewed and valued differently. Today his life is celebrated on his best friend’s ribs, and in the memories of all that knew him. Things are definitely better.

Trem's fresh tattoo in memory of his friend, Shane Dickson

Till next time,
Lynda
http://www.musicwriter.ca/

My Mom....Vera Merle Dickson

I looked at the calendar this morning and realized it’s been exactly 4 months since my last update. I so apologize to all that follow my life and times through this blog, and intend to do better moving forward. There truly has been much to write about, but once again it’s been necessary for me to catch my breath and heal my spirit before I could come back to doing these things I so love to do.
As most know, we returned to our lives on the prairie on March 30, but unfortunately our reentry into this world was much rockier and harsher than we could ever have imagined.
Early on the morning of March 31st, my Mom called to see if we could pick her up and take her to emergency. She had been doctoring because her stomach had been upset since late January, but she seemed to be controlling it with antacids and careful eating. Then in mid February she started having an ongoing backache that her chiropractor didn’t seem to be able to relieve. The problems were annoying, but didn’t seem to be that serious, until that morning when she called.
Cecil and I picked her up and had her into Portage by 6:30am…and that was the start to yet another irreversible change in our world. By April 6th, they had diagnosed her with pancreatic cancer, which by the time it was found had invaded the liver and bile duct. There was no treatment, no hope, only palliative support and a limited amount of time to get her affairs in order. We were all left dumbfounded. How could someone who had always strived so hard to do everything right for herself and her family have this to deal with? How was it that only two weeks before, she’d flown out to meet us on Salt Spring Island to celebrate our daughter’s wedding? It was another one of those times that life just seemed too unfair. But as with everything else my mother did, she handled the news with grace and strength and concern not for herself, but for the rest of us she loved in what this would put us through.

Mom's Birthday 2009

When she was released from the hospital on April 10th, we offered her all the options of where she could go, making plans to set up what would be needed to support her in her own home, as she’d always said she never wanted to leave there. But she decided for that one night, she’d come home with us and spend the night in Shane’s room, while she thought things over.
The next morning she got up and over coffee told me “Shane and I had a big, long talk last night, and we’ve decided it would be best if I stay right her with you and Cecil if that’s okay.” Who was I to argue with her and Shane, the only thing I told her was that next time the two of them were talking, could she send him across the hall to say hi to his Mom!
We braced ourselves and made preparations for the journey ahead, not knowing at that time it would only be a short 5 weeks from diagnosis to death. Looking back, it’s a bit of a blur, but as painful as that loss continues to be, I feel so lucky for what we were able to achieve and experience in that short period of time.

Mom with me on my wedding day June 1, 2004.

We were fortunate in that the bumps in life have provided us with the knowledge and skills necessary to support the rapid changes that the disease caused in a fairly seamless manner. We made her dying as gentle and as dignified as it could be for her, and she responded in kind. We worked as a family team, my husband and our family, my sister and hers, my brother and his, and my Mom’s siblings…all banding together to make the best of a bad situation, all there for her giving her the one and only thing that had ever really mattered to her…the love and support of her family. In those weeks we had endless family suppers, movie nights, afternoon visits, and conversations. We took a night and put all the pictures that my mother had been taking on the digital camera we’d given her in 2004 on a disc, and we had a “Granny’s picture night”, where all of us spent our evening watching life from my Mom’s perspective in the time leading up to Dad’s stroke and the loneliness afterwards. It was heartwarming, eye opening and a little bit painful so see that time through her lens. When it was over, Mom was thrilled, and announced that this was one of the best months ever! Oh to have her grace!

Mike and Mim's Wedding, May 8, 2010

The week before Mom passed my brother married his longtime girlfriend here at our home, and Mom was able to be front and centre for the celebration of her last child. She beamed! She had fought very hard to be there, each morning the week before waking up and asking how many more days, not wanting to mess up his special day with her illness. She didn’t. It was perfect. At the end of the day, as we watched the happy couple cut the cake and open gifts, we finished with a sing-along so that Mike and Mim could have their first dance as a married couple, followed by a few songs were I played with the amazing accompaniment of Mim’s brother Iain. And just as I knew she would, Mom requested her favorite song “One Day at a Time”, and sang along with me as I sang what I know will be the hardest song ever.

That was on May 8th, and at 6:15am on May 14th, we gathered around her in the comfort of Shane’s old room as she took her final breath and went to join Dad and Shane. Even as I write these words, almost two months later, it seems so impossible that she is gone. She was my biggest fan, my strongest supporter, the one who still thought her children were perfect, even after all these years! It seems impossible that in only 26 months my husband and I have lost three parents and my precious son. It seems impossible that the world goes on, but it does, and so do we. Changed forever, but so fortunate to have had them in our lives and our world for as long as we did.
We all decided we needed a few weeks to catch our breath and ground ourselves after the whirlwind we’d found ourselves coming home to after her diagnosis, so we waited until June 12th to have her Memorial service. My brother Michael Dickson did her eulogy, and once again captured her essence and her life perfectly with his words. It went as follows:

In better times....together again.

“If you look at the framework of a person’s life, most would look...well...less than extraordinary. If you looked at the framework of Mom’s life you might see a woman who; was born and raised on a small farm in Southern Manitoba, grew up to become a teacher, got married, raised a family (on a small farm in Southern Manitoba) worked until she retired and... sadly...passed away quietly on a small farm in Southern Manitoba.
It’s only when you look much closer that you see: the young girl born to a hard working prairie family whose humble beginnings saw her forced to sleep in the drawer of her parent’s dresser. Now...it was never made clear to us if it was the top drawer or the bottom drawer...or if any of her other siblings occupied the other drawers but...I digress. You see the hopes and dreams of a young girl growing up, riding horses, skating with friends and taking the buggy back and forth to school. You would see the determination of a young woman who completed her schooling and pursued her childhood dream of becoming a teacher.
The courage it took to leave her home to travel to strange and distant lands like Nelson House and...Rossendale. You would see the passion of a woman who could open her heart to love at first sight, the patience to wait for her true love to come to his senses and confess his love and the courage to follow her heart. You would see the spontaneity required to pack up her worldly belongings, fly out to the west coast and get engaged on December 19th 1958...and get married on December 20th 1958. I always assumed that Mom and I were so different and that she must have figured that I was crazy and irresponsible but...while writing this...I realized that, maybe, we weren’t all that different after all.
After following Dad back and forth across the country she returned with him to Rossendale where she worked for 30 years teaching at Long Plains. She embraced the community and the culture and they, in turn, I believe, embraced her. She taught several generations and made lifelong friends. She always loved running into former students, seeing how they were doing, meeting their children...sometimes their grandchildren. She took pride in their accomplishments, mourned their losses and felt happy to see when they were doing well.
In later years her joy came from her grandchildren. Going to soccer, hockey and baseball games, swimming, Christmas concerts spending time hanging out with Jamie, Shane, Michelle, Richard and, on visits, Andrew. Baking, reading, watching movies. When Lynda and Cecil married the circle grew to include more grand children and great grand children, all of whom she embraced and treasured.
After Dad had his stroke Mom’s focus turned to caring for and supporting him. Most of us could not believe or appreciate how much work it was but she never complained, never felt sorry for herself or showed resentment for her situation. She did whatever it took, accepting that that was just what needed to be done.
When Dad died...Mom’s heart was broken. We all thought we knew how hard it was for her but, in hindsight, I don’t think we really had any idea. The world she knew was gone. Just a year later, when Shane passed away, I think it was more than she could bear.

Shane and his Granny

When Mom received her diagnosis it shook her, to be sure, but she seemed to accept it (quite readily), to be at peace with her lot. It was only 5 short weeks from the day that she received the diagnosis that she passed away but those 5 weeks were filled with family, friends, laughter and love. All of the things she had held so dear. There was the opportunity for generations to grow closer as her brothers and sisters, children and grand children shared her final days.
She was not afraid to die. She found strength in her faith and peace in knowing that she was going to see two of the most important people in her life; her beloved Jim and her dear Shaney. We just hoped that...when she arrived they were there waiting for her...not busy out Bull shopping or looking at cattle trailers.
Over the past several years Mom began keeping a journal. It wasn’t until after her death that we started to read them. It gave us a great insight into our mother the person. lf any of you are keeping a journal now, keep it up, if you have ever considered keeping a journal, I would encourage you to do so. Someone once said any life that is worth living is worth recording. It’s true. Trust me, you’re children will thank you and it will stand as a great testament to your lives.
I don’t remember Mom ever saying a bad word about anyone (although she did always remark when I filled that void...ooh, Michael...language). She saw the good in everyone, the best in every situation and the infinite potential in each of her students.
When Lynda, Joanne and I met with the minister to discuss this memorial she asked us to choose a word to describe Mom. The first three words that came out of our mouths were...family, kindness and love. If, after 72 years of living, and...going on 50...ish years of raising a family, those left behind who loved you most choose those three words to describe you. I think you’ve lived a pretty extraordinary life...I think that stands as an amazing legacy.
So now it falls to us to carry on this legacy of family, kindness and love...and we will, because of the values Mom instilled in us. She did all that was asked of her and she did everything right. She will never be forgotten and she will always be loved. “

So now here we are, July 11, 2010. Lots of other things have happened since our return, lots of good things, lots of things on the horizon, but for now, I just felt it was most important to talk about Mom. I think that maybe this was all a part of the reason I was called to take the time away last winter, to regroup and strengthen myself for what we’d be coming home to. To be able to have what it took to do what she needed, and I’ll always be so proud and so grateful we were able to do that for her. It’s exactly what she would have done for us.
Until next time,
Lynda
www.musicwriter.ca