The 24th Annual Bridge School Benefit

It’s been almost five months since I sat down and dedicated the time necessary to update my journal. I don’t know where the time is going to. Every week, at the top of my list of things to do, I write “WRITE”…update blog, work on Shane’s story, pen some tunes…just write!! Somehow it’s been hard to get to, I don’t know why. But it’s time.


Last week I heard that Neil Young will receive the 2011 Allan Waters Humanitarian Award at the Juno Awards on March 27. I decided with that, that I need to dedicate this entry to our trip last October to Mountainview, California.


I’ve mentioned in other posting that at the time of my son Shane’s passing, we’d been saving for him to take a trip in his last year of high school to go to San Francisco to explore the Bridge School and to take in the Bridge School Benefit concert. I won’t repeat the details about the school, that I know I’ve written about before, but you can go to http://www.bridgeschool.org/ if you want to learn more. When he passed away, we turned the money he’d been saving into the “Shane Dickson Memorial Award” and carried on. But last October 15th, I was out doing my morning walk, and for some reason remembered the concert and that it must be happening soon. When I finished my walk, I went and checked, and sure enough it was to take place on October 23rd and 24th. My mind started ticking.


When Cecil came in later that day we talked it over and decided that we had the Airmiles to get us to San Francisco, and we both still really wanted to attend and support the cause in Shane’s memory, so we purchased two tickets online, and packed our bags!


It was a quick trip, only 4 days, because the decision was made very last minute. There were other commitments that needed to be considered, and promises that had been made, but 4 days was enough to get this off my own life’s bucket list.


We flew into San Francisco Friday morning, rented a car and headed to Santa Cruz, California. As always, we look to be close to the water when we vacation, and Santa Cruz seemed to be close enough to all we wanted to take in, while still putting us on the ocean’s doorstep. It was the perfect choice, as we spent Friday and Saturday taking in the Boardwalk with all it had to offer, the Annual Chili Cookoff, The Cold water Classic Surfing competition, and the treasures on the town’s pier. It was like we’d jammed a weeks’ worth of vacationing into those few hours.

Lighthouse veiw at Santa Cruz, California

Sunday morning we headed back to Mountainview, to the Shoreline Amphitheatre to pick up our tickets and enjoy the concert that had been a heart’s desire for so long. The weather didn’t look like it wanted to cooperate, but the show goes on rain or shine, so we’d come prepared for whatever happened. We learned a few things too! Like there’s no point running around town to buy lawn chairs, because if they’re over 10 inches off the ground, they can’t be used at the amphitheatre anyhow! So, sadly, our newly purchased chairs got left behind, but we were able to rent the proper ones right on sight. We’d arrived early, not sure about how things worked, but that naivety allowed us to get some excellent seating once we got through the gates and into the show!

When the concert started, I felt the tears well up in my eyes, and the familiar tightening in my chest that always accompanies events that my heart says should have happened with Shane rather than without him. This had been his trip, his adventure, but instead there we were. For a few moments emotions got the best of me, as I watched them bring out all the children who benefit from the school, and alumni who had attended in the past, including Neil and Pegi’s son Ben for whom they had created Bridge School for initially, back in 1987. As I looked skyward to try and still the flow of tears, and eagle soared overhead. I was reminded Shane wasn’t so far away after all.

The concert was nothing less than amazing! Merle Haggard was ill and unable to attend, but we did enjoy almost 8 hours of acoustic performances including Kris Kristofferson, Pearl Jam and other’s I myself had never heard of, but it was obvious many other attendees had! The Speaking Clock Review was incredible as Elton John and Leon Russell introduced their collaboration, but the highlight had to have been listening to Buffalo Springfield in their first public performance in 42 years! You wouldn’t think they had missed a night of playing together! It was powerful! It felt so surreal to be a part of it all, and the ‘once in a lifetime’ trip to attend has us now thinking…maybe we’ll do it again!

Of Course, my very favorite part!!!

The next day we had one day to spend in San Francisco before heading home. Our thought had been to take in Alcatraz when we were there..but believe it or not, by 10am on a Monday in October all tours for the day were already sold out! Where do the people come from I’d wondered! Unable to do that, we instead wandered along Fisherman’s Wharf, and enjoyed the local fair.

Sea Lions who have made their home on Fisherman's Wharf.

The day was going well, up until I got a call from a friend I’ve yet to meet, to tell me her son Owen had passed away. Owen had captured my heart the year before after seeing him on television. He was like a younger version of Shane…only with beautiful, wildly curly hair. Having the chance to someday meet him had also been on my list of things to one day do, but sadly that’s one that can’t happen. The call reminded me once again how quickly tides can turn, and how fragile life can be, and my heart ached for my friend, knowing too well the journey she was about to embark on. I still think of them both so often these days.

We did finish off our day in San Francisco however. The following morning, we headed back home, and twenty four hours later, it was like a dream! But oh what a dream it was! Who knows…the 25th Annual Bridge School Benefit Concert may be on this fall’s agenda yet!

till next time!

Lynda

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

Shane Allan James Dickson...so this is what it feels like when your heart breaks....

Just before 9:30pm on Tuesday, March 10, 2009, I learned what what it feels like for the world as you know it to be ripped from the very heart of you, as life changes for ever and always. Shane was just a little 'off'...we weren't sure what he was struggling with, but decided that being in hospital for observation was the safest bet. After 36 hours of not feeling great, he finally settled. We watched American Idol so he'd be up on the conversation at school when he got back to it, he closed his beautiful blue eyes, I made up the cot they gave me and turned off the light. Twenty minutes later, it occurred to me that I couldn't here his breathing, which had been noticeable with the head cold..I jumped out of bed, turned on the light, and realized the world as I've known it for 17 years was gone.
The past 3 days have been a blur of phone calls, visits, arrangements and head shaking...trying to make sense of the unfathomable. What a nightmare....and try as I might, I just can't wake up from it. I don't know where the tears keep coming from, but they do keep coming...and coming....and coming.....God I miss my boy.....
The funeral is planned for Sunday..and I hope I have all the basis covered. Songs I've written to support other people through the struggles of loss, are suddenly becoming part of the ceremony that will support me through my own...

For me, I wish I had the courage to get up and share what Shane meant to me, but I know I can't. The recessional song is 'Heroes' that was written for and with Shane, and that says so much about how he's got me through so many things, and who he helped me to become....he was my mentor, my teacher, and the very best parts of me.....I owe him so very much for the lessons he taught, and the love and patience he showed and the honor granted to just be his mom. I'm attaching a jpeg with the poem 'Welcome to Holland'...I kept this poem taped to my dresser mirror for over 16 years, and always called Shane my little dutch boy...because he took me to Holland, and the journey was remarkable....I can't believe how lost I am without him her to guide me....and I just hope that today his new legs are taking him to every corner of the universe that his heart desired to see...and his voice is celebrating and sharing all the wisdom his soul has gathered ....Shane....I will miss you forever, and love you for always...Forever and always, my baby you'll be. Love you so much sweetheart...





His Obituary reads as follows:
It is with deepest sorrow that we announce the sudden passing of Shane Allan James Dickson, age 17, of Lavenham, Manitoba on Tuesday, March 10th, with his mother by his side.

Left to mourn his loss, and forever cherish his memory, are his parents Lynda and Cecil Turner, siblings Bill (Robin), Lisa (Adam), Kathy (Tim), John (Corinna), Bianca (Josh) and Anthony. He will be sadly missed by Grandparents Vera Dickson, and Delmer and Shirley Dobbin, and lovingly remembered by many aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and cousins, as well as countless friends and classmates. Shane was predeceased by his father Greg Dobbin (2001), Grandpa Jim Dickson (2008) and Grandma Hazel Turner (2008).

Shane was born January 18, 1992 in Winnipeg. Shane’s physical struggles began early in life, with a diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy, but the struggles and challenges never weakened his resilient spirit or his infectious laugh. While many people spend decades waiting to learn what their purpose in life might turn out to be, Shane’s became clear at a very early age, as he became an ambassador for children with special needs to the greater community. His beautiful eyes and his knowing smile opened many people’s eyes and hearts to the possibilities within a child with such differing needs. In his short 17 years, Shane started a ripple of understanding that will be felt by hundreds of people for years to come, and anyone who knew him will never forget him.

Shane loved people! His greatest joy was in being surrounded by friends and family. He loved school and being in the center of it all both at the Elementary and Collegiate schools of MacGregor, where he was in Grade 11. The MacGregor staff and student body provided Shane with an educational experience that was second to none, and provided the country with a living example of what inclusion in schools really, truly looks like. There wasn’t one day when a hoot of joy didn’t erupt from Shane, when he heard the bus coming for him, because he couldn’t get enough of the time spent with peers.

Physical limitations didn’t hinder his opportunities for travel, swimming, 4-wheeling, snowmobiling, camping, or tobogganing. There were very few things that he missed having the chance to try, and leaves us knowing his seventeen short years were packed with a lifetime full of memories and adventures. He knew what it was to have true, lifelong friendships, and he knew what it meant to be truly loved by all those around you. He was also able to teach us that physical abilities can’t limit a spirit, or a person’s sense of joy, as he spent his life teaching all of us those lessons.

There are so many amazing things happening....in a world where 50 years ago, a child with his needs might have come and gone without so much as a marking on his grave...here we are struggling to find a building that will accommodate the crowd that has embraced him. There's a FaceBook page dedicated to his memory, that grows by the hour, with words of condolences and celebration for the gifts he offered. It's all so overwhelming right now, but in the days to come, I hope to gather the strength to share with the world, who he was, and the lessons he taught us all...but for now, I just need to close my eyes and remember the child that was mine.

Jann Arden's Journal....

Today was one of those unique days where most of the 'have to do' list had been tended to, and the 'wanna do' list had a chance to get looked at. Gosh, there are just not enough of those days I'm afraid!!! Anyhow, I had the chance today to spend a little time catching up on what Jann Arden has been doing lately though her journal on her website, and I have to tell you, it turned into one of those days where you end up thanking God for unanswered prayers...I love her, more like I idolize her..but I don't think I could ever have kept up with her life. By the time I'd finished reading the last several posts that Jann had made, I had a knot in my stomach the size of a fist, and so I can only imagine what the knot in hers must feel like.  She is so strong to deal with all she does.

The road I've travelled has contained a lot of twists and turns, and all those detours have lead me to where I am today. So no, I'm not touring the country, opening for any big name acts. And no, I'm not wooing audiences throughout North America, sleeping in a different hotel, in a different town everynight...but you know...that's just fine, because my heart tells me I am where I'm meant to be..as different as this life is from the dreams of a young girl with a song in her heart!

At the end of my kinda boring, quiet day today, I spent some time filling up my bird feeders and watering the flowers on the deck. While doing that I sang "Won't say goodbye" at the top of my lungs to my dogs and the wild cats that would listen. I realized that that song, written to sing at the funeral of a family friend who passed away a couple of weeks ago (Olive Tunski), will not touch the hearts of millions of faceless, adoring fans around the world. But it deeply touched the hearts of a few dear friends who needed to hear their pain expressed in words that meant something to them, and with that it did exactly what it was meant to do.

After I got things settled for Shane, I took my daily walk, albeit later than usual. I headed up to the escarpment, and stood, drinking in the beauty of that wonderful place for moment. As it was my stage, I had 3/4s of a harvest moon shining in a hazy cloud to my left, and the most amazing sunset (the mixture of tangerine, violet, fusia and pinks cannot be adequately described I'm afraid) illuminated the sky to my right. The stage that I get to perform on cannot be topped, I don't care who's doing the lighting! It's days like this that remind me not to even venture into the land of what might have been, or what I'm not experiencing, but rather to immerse myself in the beauty of the life that is, and I realize that I do have it all, right here, right now....I truly am one of the lucky ones, and it's nice to have a chance to slow down enough to know that!
Take care you all!
Later,
Lynda
www.musicwriter.ca

Comes a time...

Yesterday was set aside to be spent exclusively for organizing my office...something that had to be done badly. House was pretty quiet, only Shane and I. Everyone else had decided to risk their necks going skiing, not a skill that I've managed to aquire. However, early in the day, while I was helping Shane pick out something to watch on TV while mom submersed herself in papers, I noticed that the movie channel was going to be playing "Neil Young-Heart of Gold" So much for my best laid plans.

For the next two hours I was swallowed up by his vidoetaped debut of his "Prairie Wind" album at the Rymann Auditorium in Nashville. I bought that album last spring...and I guess I must have worn it out, because it's plum disappeared. I so enjoy his music. As I watched, I realized how strange it was that he's on one the world's most well known singers on one of the most famous stages in the world, singing songs about the little town half an hour away. I wonder if Cypress River ever expected to develop such notority. You listen to his history, to the story behind the songs, to his memories of listening to Ian Tyson's "Blowin in the wind" on a jukebox at Falcon Lake, and you realize that incredible things happen to those who follow their dreams.

I've never met Neil Young, but I've always connected with him. We both come from smalltown Manitoba, we both write our own story in our songs, we both have kids with special challenges. For a long time my old piano teacher Annie Donald had us excited that we were kinda, almost related to Neil Young through his mother, by marriage, once removed....or something. Doesn't matter....however she explained it, made me want to work at the piano a little harder.

Funny how a song can take you back in time too. After all the new songs were introduced, he sang some of his older stuff. I remember surviving my first year of university only because I had an old record player there, and I played "Harvest moon" over, and over, and over....as I listened to him sing 'Comes a time' yesterday, I was instantly transported back to that dorm room, to the naive farm-fresh dreamer that I was, to all the big dreams I'd held. Seems that that girl lived a long, long time ago.

As the nostalgia passed, and the little lump in my throat cleared, I realized that maybe things haven't changed all that much. I still sit in my room listening to Neil (and Jann, and Sarah, and all the other's who have pulled me through), I'm still farm-fresh in a weathered sort of way although not as naive, and I still have big dreams. I also realized how many of my big dreams have come true since that time...the perfect love that was wished for has been found, the opportunity to follow my passion for music has be granted, a happy home (check), a beautiful family (check), a solid circle of friends (check), the dream to feel safe and confident in who I am (check)....I guess it's all turned out the way it was meant to. Now, when I hear "comes a time" I realize that my time has come...I really am one of the lucky ones.
L
www.musicwriter.ca