Ebbs and flows and ice-jams of life...

Spring in Manitoba typically means watching water forecasts. Rivers run too high, streams overflow their banks and go way too fast, huge chunks of ice suddenly jam together and throw everything off...backing up the water, flooding the surrounding area, creating a disaster, then just as suddenly letting go, and allowing everything to flow smoothly once more.

We've been watching routine of it all unfold down by the little campground we'd created for ourselves by the river. It seems to be quite comparable to the emotional river I'm treading in these days I think. Smooth flowing for a few hours, moving along safely clinging to the 'riverbanks' that I recognize as my life, then suddenly having everything explode with the ice jam of a memory that stops me in my tracks, pushes all my forward momentum back and into territory I don't know, and leaving the mess of myself behind starting from square one again. Emotional whitewater. Wiped out, exhausted.

These pictures were taken last week a day or so after the ice had let go for the last time. My poor campground a collection of ice chunks, instead of campfires...but that's only temporary. The river is so full and powerful right now. The islands in the middle completely emerged in the torrent, you'd have to know they were there to believe it, as there isn't a sign. I'm not big on camping I'm afraid, I never have been...but this place I love. For years and years I've whined that I wanted waterfront property....a place by the lake, or the sea, or somewhere where I could sit still and quietly and have the sounds of the water clear my mind and calm my soul. Three years ago we were down on the field everyone refers to as the 'banana' field, on a bright sunny morning. When I looked to the west at the river, the sun was reflecting diamonds off the water, right back into my eyes, and they were opened for the first time to the fact that I in fact do have water front property after all! With that, we started working on a beautiful little campground where we could sneak away for an evening, afternoon or overnight....without a lot of risk. The risk was that Shane really disliked camping as much as I did...and I don't blame him....the accommodations weren't as comfortable as home, he couldn't defend himself against the mosquitoes (so he counted on our questionable help as we swatted our own!), there was probably lots more that he couldn't express to us. But our little campground seemed to be the answer....it was set up for his comfort, and we could go for short periods of time....being just minutes from home. If it wasn't a great time, travel and gas and hours hadn't been lost getting there....you just headed back to home.

Funny...for all the times we'd tried going places further away that got thwarted because it wasn't a good day for Shane....heading down to our own little spot always seemed to be just fine with him every single time.....he just knew I guess.

For now we'll just wait for the last of the ice to melt and disappear, which will soon be followed by green grass and leaves, and hope for smoother sailing for our hearts....if only it was that simple.

Last week was an exceptionally hard week. I'm horribly conscious of anniversary dates....I envy those who don't have every one etched directly into their hearts and brains, but I'm not one of those. Last week, April 15th marked the 8th anniversary since Greg passed away (Greg was my first husband who died of cancer). I've learned through the years there are certain days that I just have to be alone, April 15th has become one of them. I need to walk through the memories, and sit with the loss on my own somewhere quietly and just let the thoughts and tears come and go as they wish. I've tried on several occasions to just let it be another day, and make plans as if it was, but that never ends up good. Somewhere through the ordinariness of trying to do that, I fall apart...and people always expect answers as to why, or think its about them. No, it's just me, sorry.

This year I ran away to Brandon to manage my day, and allowed myself to be an anonymous tourist in a town that I know so well. There is so much to be said for spending time in mourning in places where no one knows your name. For moments you can forget who you are, and what your story is, and for short flashes...you almost forget your grief. It can be such a momentary relief when that happens. But the truth is you can run, but you can't hide, that came to me so clearly that day.

After I'd had my favorite salad at my favorite Brandon lunch spot (Lady of the Lake), I headed for the Riverbank Discovery centre to sit on a bench with the book I'm reading now, and just be by the river (same one that flows by my place...only my portion of it is sooooo much more peaceful I learned!). There isn't a lot of activity at the centre in mid-April, so sitting by the water's edge seemed to be the right thing for me to do at the time. I found a bench and got out the book I'm currently reading ..."Broken Open: by Elizabeth Lesser"...and attempted to concentrate on the words. But the surrounding sounds really wouldn't let me, and instead transported me over the past several years, taking me back to some of the things that made me the person I know I am today.

To my right, looking west, I could here the buzz of the construction taking place on the new bridge that is being built to support the twinning of 18th Street....not as soul soothing as the river bird sounds I'm used to. On my Left, and to the south was the sounds of the Heartland Auction Mart...and it was sale day. Across the river, I could hear the loading orders being given over the backyard loudspeaker, and listen to the bellows of the calves that were being transported to their next destination, wherever that may have been. My mind journeyed back over 15 years...

From early in our relationship, Greg had seen that I had a knack for managing the cattle operation and the health care of the animals. He decided early, that that was something I should take over and free him up to do the cropping and auto sales that were his passion. To this day it's a bit of a stretch to even imagine what it was that moved him to make such a major decision about such a critical part of our business, but he was convinced that I'd do a better job of it than he, and just stepped back. From there, it seemed for years, every Tuesday I got up early and headed for the auction mart....learning what I needed to know about who were the buyers, what were they looking for, how the whole process went...it was where I garnered a lot of the information I needed to be successful in managing a 1,000 head feedlot, and where I met some really great people who later became friends.

It was an odd beginning though. Not everyone understood what a woman was doing sitting in the stands week after week observing (in the first few weeks I was not welcomed at all, as some folks there thought I must represent an animal rights group the way I sat back and watched) , and lots of the 'fellas' questioned the sanity of a man letting his wife make the kind of decisions etc. that Greg trusted me to make...and as with so many other areas of our life, his answer was always "Lynda can do it."...and he was right.

It was an interesting, and successful part of my life, that I can't say I miss today, but I know through that part of living, I gained so much faith in who I was and what I can accomplish, repeatedly hearing "Lynda can do it...." with such positive assurance. Should we all be so lucky as to have someone in our lives that have such faith in us!

"Lynda can do it.." was a phrase he repeated so often in the last year of his fight through chemo, through having to to sit back and allow others to oversee his precious farm, to questions as to how Shane and I would manage when he was gone.....I guess all these years later, he was right, but at the time I certainly couldn't know for sure. Sitting on that bench, staring into the moving water, I swear I heard his voice repeat that to me yet again....I hope he's right, because there are moments these days where I just don't know.

Eight years later I guess I have learned that the pain does ease, that the memories do remain, that the good stuff sticks in your heart, and the bad times have vanished into the thin air of the past. My hope now, as I'm walking through this dark forest of Shane's loss, is that on the really bad days (and there are still so, so many of those...) that I'm able to reach out to what I know, so that I can survive what is...telling myself "Lynda can do it....." Time will only tell.

Lynda

http://www.musicwriter.ca/

Always...

I'm trying to do bits and pieces of the formidable job ahead of me...a pick up here, a put away there, a pass long now and then. It's so hard, and even after a month has come and gone...I'm still such a lost wanderer in this vast new unknown.
I started going through some of the scrapbook cupboard yesterday...we'd started scrapbooks of so many events, so that when Shane was a adult, and I was no longer here, his story would continue to be told through the records we'd created. It's so hard being reminded just how full my dreams for him were...and what a void there is now that they're over.
Shane loved art class, and met some of his coolest friends when they came into his life as peer helpers. I was looking through last year's art pictures, and found this one...I hadn't really taken notice of it before, but this day it feels like a message from Shane to me...always life, always love, always laugh....oh Shane, how I hope I can again one day soon. This current state is so stifling, so lonely, so strange.
It's Easter Sunday. My big focus today is on trying to clear out all the long dead floral arrangements from the funeral. They are definitely well past their prime, but I just haven't had the heart to move them out yet. I don't yet, by the way my core is knotted trying to accomplish the task, but each day I try to accomplish one small thing that will allow me to feel I made a little step forward. Today it's the flowers...tomorrow...we'll see.

I feel a need to write, write, write...but don't seem to know what to say. I've picked up the guitar a couple of times in the past week, by have made little headway. Maybe this new week will offer some solace.

We're having a spring rain right now....it's helping to wash away some of the dirty, tired snow that still lingers everywhere. I sit and look out the living room window at the hillside, and try to convince myself I can see hints of green it the bare spots that are now exposed...it's a pretty dirty, brown green if I do say so myself...but I'll keep looking.

Mom is preparing an Easter dinner for us today. My heart is not in being surrounded by a crowd here in my little sanctuary, so she's taking on the task. It will be nice to have dinner there..we've done very little of that since losing Dad last year. It will be good for all of us I'm sure.

I feel that I'm in such a dark place right now. I long for some sense of joy to come back into my heart, but it just doesn't seem to be able to make the breakthrough yet. I search my mind for clues as to what might trigger some feeling of excitement, or anticipation or hope...and still I find only a blank slate. I hope I find a way out of this soon. I hope the emptiness starts to refill itself with a feeling of purpose. I hope it soon starts to get easier, and I so fear that it won't. I hope one day soon I'll remember who I am, now that so much has changed.

Lynda
www.musicwriter.ca

The Shack

Life can be so ironic sometimes, can't it? Last June I got back into my walking program, and things were going very well with it. When our summer ended, I dug out the treadmill so I could continue my walking through the winter, as conditions make it so hard to walk in these hills of mine in the winter months. My treadmill is now down in the garage/concert hall....and to help speed the 45 minutes along, I found that my walk time provides my reading time.

In February one of the books I read was "The Shack" by William P. Young, on the advise of several friends. "The Shack" follows the story of Mack, a man who tragically loses his young daughter and the transformation of him and his family in the aftermath. Here I am six weeks later, realizing the depth of the despair that Mack and Nan were dealing with in the book...I'm not going to go any further into it than that, but there was one particular section that stuck with me and hit a chord very deep in me. It's when Mack is in the cave, the walls become clear, and through them he can see Missy playing with her siblings. When asked if all the children are have died, his companion at that stage says no, they are dreaming....those we lose reach out to us in our dreams, to connect and spend time with us, and keep us close to them in their heaven. I loved that thought, as I've always been such a vivid dreamer, and have always been able to keep those I've lost with me in dreams....last night I finally got to dream with Shane, and the feeling of comfort from just dreaming about holding him in my arms, and watching him sleep, and being able to stroke his hair and tell him how much I loved him was so wonderful....it made waking up a little harder I think, but it's worth the hard to be in that place with him, if only for minutes. In the dream I ran into a friend who's worked closely with him at school and said "look whose with me! isn't this wonderful", and she was trying to tell me that "Lynda, he's gone, this is wrong...", but I was adamant that it was okay, he was with me and would be forever....and I know that's the way it is from here on...he is with me....

We're into April now...and look at the lovely view from my deck yesterday morning.....this is bizarre how the winter refuses to leave this year (made worse by how early it seemed to arrive!). And today's forecast? Chance of snow...what else. I remember previous years when people were hitting the fields up here in the hills....it'll be a while this year, that's for sure.

The bad weather is making the calving more difficult than it needs to be. We bumped our calving to April several years ago, to give the animals the chance to birth when the snow and cold were gone....not sure what happened with that plan, but it sure isn't working out again this year. The saving grace is that it has to be gone soon....but we're starting to wonder.

There's not too much else at the moment...trying to focus a little on work and get into a new groove. It's hard to do, but I think it's good to have a few hours a day where my mind gets distracted by something other than the quiet here. It's a strange time.....

Lynda

www.musicwriter.ca

Spring, renewal, reminders...

Sunday morning, the first of this year's calf crop arrived safe and sound and wide eyed to the new life before her. She is the first of 98 to come, so busy weeks lie ahead. She timed it right too. Last week we were mired in the snow and wind and sleet of a late blast of winter, but she stayed where she was until that passed, and a warm sun was available to greet her. Our hope is always that we've timed the calving to coincide with the arrival of the warmer, nicer days of spring so that the babies have a chance to catch their breath after the birthing process without having to also fight the elements of winter. There was a time, for many years in fact, when we were part of the cattle producing sector that deemed January and February to be the best time to calve, based on selling timing and pricing. But eventually, it came to our attention, that that no longer worked for our energy, facilities, enthusiasm or lifestyle, so we bumped it back to April. It was a good choice for us.

The calving season is such a strong reminder of how life goes on, whether we're ready to or not. It's been three weeks to the day since I lost Shane....in most ways three very, long, draining weeks...but another part of me marvels that three weeks have slipped past so quickly. I don't know if I can say it's getting any easier...I think I cry a little less, I force myself to get up and do things that take my focus off the emptiness inside for a while, there are snatches of moments when he doesn't consume every thought in my head, but it's still a hard place to be. Sometimes it's scary how tight and explosive the muscles in my throat and neck and chest feel, like your body is about to tear itself open, in an effort to contain the pain it's carrying. I hope that feeling soon starts to ease...I'm sure those are signs of the stress that eats away at what health you have, and I need to manage that if I'm going to be around to move forward.

I think for us, one of the toughest things with this particular loss is how it's been an insurmountable wave in such a series of losses. You look at the stages of grief that the professionals claim you will go through, and the time lines that might be expected, and there just has never been a chance for us to work through one, before the next one arrives. We barely were coming to terms with the loss of my Dad last March, when we were confronted with the death of Cecil's Mom in November, then as we're starting to feel that loss is manageable, this happens....and this is not something that feels like it's going to be manageable for a long, long time....so please let it be the last for a while. A broken heart can only be left in so many pieces if it is ever going to put a semblance of itself back together....I think mine has reached the point of being almost completely shattered....I'm so uncertain reparation is possible, but know I have to try.

So for now, we carry on. Signs of spring are starting to appear everywhere. The water streams flowing through the middle of the yard, the boards of the deck peaking through the snow, the arrival of the calves....my hope that all the rebirth and regeneration around us will aid us in being reborn into the new life we have as well. A new life that will carry the memory of Shane forward, as the gift that he was, and a life that will see me strong enough to share the lessons that he brought and make his life count for everything that it truly was. We're working at that one long day at a time, but I do believe that each day is just a tiny bit easier than the day before...so with time.

I wanted to share this picture...when people talk about 'fighting like cats and dogs' they'd never met "Lady". Lady has been with us for tow years this month. We decided in 2007 that we needed another dog around the yard, as poor old buster who was about 14 at the time, was struggling with the coyote population coming up and harassing him at night by the house. My Dad researched and decided what we needed was a Great Pyrenees. He found some puppies for sale in the paper, but we didn't think we were at a place where a puppy would have a fair chance...we were just too busy, and too preoccupied. I picked up a Buy and Sell on day to read on the way to a Friends funeral, and there at the top of the pets section, was my girl. '5 year old Great Pyrenees female, free to good home'. I phoned and spoke for her immediately, but the only day we could drive that far to get her was Easter Sunday, so that day Shane, Cecil and I loaded up in The Shanemobile (his wheelchair van), and headed out for the three hour drive to fetch the new family member. When we got to our destination, we found the saddest, most defeated animal I've ever met. She'd been tied to a tree for a year, you could feel every bone down her skull and back, and we didn't even know she had a tail for two weeks, she kept it tucked so tightly down. This was NOT what we were looking for, but we just couldn't leave her there. We decided to take her home, see what happened, and find her a better place if necessary. I still question what it was we were thinking when we loaded this monster of a dog into the back of the van, and attached her leash to the footings that kept Shane's wheelchair secure. It could have been a disaster with an animal that big, and a child that vulnerable...but something about her demeanor never even allowed the possibility to enter our mind.

Two days after arriving at our home, the least/chain came off. She's proven to be the answer to the coyotes, the protector of the family, the play thing for the children, and the tamer of the cats. There isn't a day where she doesn't look at you, and you just know she adores you for the life she's been given, and the home that she has. It's another one of those things, where you put something out there, and what you need comes. I think she's a lot older than the 5 years we were told she was. She's another heartbreak down the road. But for the past two years, and for the foreseeable future....she truly has been a 'man's best friend'....although that man just happens to be a woman.

What would we do without friends...

This last couple of weeks have been so terribly heartbreaking, but at another level, they have also been strangely renewing for the values and beliefs that I hold so dearly. I don't know where I would have been, or would be now for that matter, were it not for the people and relationships in my life. I can't even imagine what this would have been like to walk through without all the calls, visits, notes and emails, that still pop up daily just to say 'I'm thinking of you'. It's been what's pulled me through, and continues to help me get up each morning.

Take this beautiful, beautiful picture that was adjusted and adorned with one of Maya Angelou's quotes, then posted for me. It's these thoughtful little gestures and reminders from the people who's lives we've touch and who have in turn touched ours, that makes every new day possible.
And it's not just the friends that we see on a regular basis that so amaze me...it's the friends that have reached out across time and miles....people who touched my life a million years ago and have connected to say 'I'm still here for you' , and people who only know me through the cyberworld, but who've made the effort to say "I care"...it all matters so very much right now.

I actually waded back into the world of my work life this week, only for two days, in a very closed session...so that I was surrounded and supported by 'my people', but not overwhelmed with what my heart couldn't handle. It was good to get outside of my little box for a couple of days, but very good to come back and crawl back into my cocoon...still it was a start, and I know I need to start somewhere. This new world is just so foreign from the way things were, and to stay in this place of just being, rather than doing, is almost more than my heart can handle right now, so maybe the time has come to try and start to make my way in the world, even if just a little at a time, once more.

It's snowing, and snowing, and snowing again....we're just days away from starting the calving season...with 100 cows ready to explode...but I sure hope they'll wait for a couple more days. It looks much like January again here, which sucks when we're just days away from April! Lots of fear around the potential for flooding this year as well. Luckily we're up in the hills, and don't have to worry about that, but that doesn't spare you from thinking of the others that aren't so safe right now. Hopefully all the work that's been done in the past years provincially to protect from this happening will allow people to stay dry and protected.

For now I'll keep moving along, trying to figure which direction I need to head in any given day, to maneuver myself to where I don't even know I'm going. Lost without a map, but gratefully not alone on my journey....my love and thanks to all of you.

Lynda
http://www.musicwriter.ca/

On the twelth day of.....

Twelve days have passed since we lost Shane...what a strange new world it suddenly is. Over the past days I'm finding that sometimes my friends speak my heart better than I do. A.M emailed me yesterday, she has a son who has many of the same needs that Shane did, and she put it this way.... "For seventeen years your life has revolved around Shane...your thoughts, your energy, your entire being has revolved around his care, his health, his good days, his bad nights....You know every inflection of every coo, and what it means... your ears are tuned to every sigh, every cry, every shriek of joy or pain..your eyes pick up every facial expression and you know what he has communicated, and wonder sometimes what he must be thinking....My heart weeps with you, my friend"...she pegged it so well.
I think it's the silence that is hardest...there was always sounds, although Shane never spoke a word, he always got his point across using one sound or another..his presence spoke such volumes. The silence is deafening...and as I listen, I hear my heart break.
I'm trying to focus on the list of things that I know need to get done, and the other list of things that I always planned to accomplish when I had time...now it seems I have more time than I can handle, but instead of getting things accomplished, I wander from room to room....memories hitting me at every turn....none of this seems real.

It's raining here. They say that in about 24hours the rain is to turn to another round of snow. I wish this winter would end, it seems to have lasted so long. It's such a dirty time of year too. The snow is no longer pure and white, but tired and grey and mottled...kind of reminds me of me right now. We need a dose of spring and renewal. I hope it comes soon.

Tried to play for a while today. Puttered with the song that I was working on just the week before Shane passed. Shane's Godmother read the lyrics as a poem at his funeral, and I know I need to finish the piece. There are still flashes of time when I stand here and wonder what next...what am I to do with myself...everything I've worked towards in the last many years have been geared towards his future, his having a safe, inclusive adult life, his world being made more accepting and tolerant. I know from the response from his passing, I have a responsibility to continue all that we started, and to keep working towards a better tomorrow for all person's with disabilities, and I know I need to get that fire back...right now it just seems so hard. Each morning I arise hoping this will be the day that I'll feel something of myself again...but each evening I retire feeling the same hollow emptiness that has engulfed me since March 10th. At least, with help, the sleep allows me to escape for a few hours, but the escape is usually into the world of my dreams, where Shane is with me, and all is as it should be again...that makes starting the next day just that much harder.

I know it's early, I know this will take time....God knows I've been here before when I lost my first husband in 2001, and when I lost my Dad last year...but this one just seems so much harder, because Shane got me through those other losses. The critical people in my life are trying so hard to do that for me now...but it's just different. I miss my boy sooooo much....please bear with my while I work though it.

Lynda
http://www.musicwriter.ca/

Is there life after Shane.....

Over a week has gone by since Shane's passing. I still feel like I'm trapped in a bad dream that I can't get out of. I'd hoped that by now, hours passing would have started to numb the ache that continues to throb in my very core, but it hasn't. The floral tributes we've received have given me such beauty to sit and reminisce in, if only the ache would stop for a short while.

We held his memorial on Sunday, and it was such a beautiful tribute to such a beautiful person. The people of the EMC church in MacGregor, opened their doors and hearts, and welcomed almost 500 family, friends and classmates who came to pay honor to Shane. What a tribute to the life he had, and the memories he left behind. The words of the service touched each of our hearts, as Shane's story was shared with us by not only the minister, but by his uncle, his teacher and his godmother, and through pictures that each held a thousand words.

The days since have been a very surreal blur of hours passing by without direction. I've spent 17 years of my life orchestrating every move I've made around ensuring that his needs were met first, and now that those needs aren't the focal point of my days...I'm not really sure what is. I started trying to do up some of the many Thank-yous that need to go our for the many kindnesses we've received over the past nine days. There have been so many things to be thankful for, at such a challenging time. We've been so well supported by friends and family with visits, calls, emails, cards, food and flowers. There have been donations made in Shane's honor to the charities we chose...The Children's Rehabilitation centre in Winnipeg, Sunshine Dreams for Kids, and The Variety club. It's overwhelming, and although we're so well supported, it still feels so unreal...

As I'd mentioned a few posts ago, we'd started fundraising for Shane to take a trip to California in the next year. We'd hoped that he'd be able to connect with Bridges School, the school established by Neil Young and his wife Peggy to support children like Shane who are unable to communicate verbally...there were wonderful plans in the making for that young man! We've decided to carry on with the fundraising, and use the money to set up a memorial award to be presented the graduate who best represents what it means to be inclusive and accepting of diversity. I think Shane would be proud to have the money spent that way....it's the people that he's touched that will be travelling the world and opening doors for others, now that he's no longer with us to do that. Maybe this will be a small way that we can help them to be able to do that.

We'd all but finished production of the new cd when all of this happened. Songs that I'd written to support others through their trials, ended up being played at the funeral to support me through my own. In the last weeks before Shane passed, I'd been working on a piece with the hopes that it could be used in some of the advocacy we do together. I've decided that that piece needs to be on the new cd, so until I have a chance to get it recorded and fine-tuned, I've decided to hold off on any further movement forward. There's also the little issue of my heart not being in things right now, and I don't know how long it's going to take for it to function properly again. It's all so strange.

One of the students that spent time with Shane at school started a Facebook page in his honor. I'd never taken time to do the facebook thing, but over the course of the past week, being able to peak into the group and read the thoughts and comments made about my beautiful son, has helped me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The school also dedicated the Cabaret it presented this week to Shane's memory...such wonderful tributes to such a special young man! It's amazing how we draw from others to survive in our time of need...the cards, notes and posts have kept us from sinking below the surface of the pain we're treading in. It makes me hope I've offered that kind of comfort to others in their time of need...I hope I have, and I hope I'll get better at it, having been reminded of the importance of connections.

The writing helps too...being able to pour the pain out onto a written page seems to dull it somehow a little. I'd like to keep writing, but I know that there will be lots of time for that in the days ahead. For someone who never, ever seemed to have enough time...suddenly there seems to be so much of it.

I'd like to share the story of Shane with the world, but for now, I think I'll share the eulogy for Shane Dickson that my brother Micheal Dickson wrote and presented for him instead. He did a great job of capturing the life and the spirit that was Shane, and in the days ahead I'll do better...

It read as follows:

It seems strange how we all get up here and search for the words to express how we’re feeling.
Shane could express his feelings so easily and he was never able to speak a word in his life.
On behalf of the family I’d like to start by saying thank you to everyone for coming out today. I knew that Shane touched a lot of lives and I knew that so many special people touched Shane’s life. I guess this turnout today is a testament to that.
I’d also like to say a special thank to all the people who entered Shane’s life, through various avenues and inevitably became his friends. You see, Shane was very lucky. While his life was not without challenges and he had to endure more than his share...what he never had to tolerate were support workers, therapists, care aides, doctors, teachers, nurses and specialists. You see Shane just had this great group of friends...and some of those friends just happened to have very unique skill sets.
Shane also had a very special group of close friends. Friends like Trem, who’s known Shane since pre-school and someone I’ve had the pleasure of knowing for many years. Trem never saw a kid who couldn’t talk. He saw a friend who...if you asked the question right... gave him your undivided attention and concentrated really hard...could give you all the answers you needed. Oddly...the answer was usually “Ice Cream”....Or Victoria, who, even when she was very young, never saw a kid in a wheelchair. She saw “The smartest boy she knew, because he takes his chair with him everywhere and he never has to worry where he’s going to sit.”
17 years is not a long time...but if you put your mind to it, if you have a passion for living, a collection of the best friends in the world and a family determined to help you experience all that life has to offer...you might be surprised what you can accomplish.
Shane petted a dolphin and saw wild orca, he put his toes in both oceans...and laughed.
He rode on an airboat through the everglades of Florida with his family, on a sailboat through the Strait of Georgia with his Grandpa and on a Zodiac off the coast of Vancouver Island with pods of whales.
He rode horses, toboggans, snowmobiles, ATVs , water slides and roller coasters.
He put up with Mom’s singing, Cecil’s jokes, grandpa’s incessant doting and being force fed potatoes and gravy by grandma...and he just kept smiling.
He was a light in his Grandpa’s life through some very dark days...and after Grandpa passed away he gave the family a shoulder lean on and a hand to hold.
He played games and told stories with his eyes...touched hearts with his smile... lit up rooms with his laugh...and enriched lives with his spirit.
If I may, I’d like to direct this next part to Shane’s classmates. I’m not going to stand here and act like I know you. I’m not going to pretend that I understand what you’re going through. I don’t. We all deal with these things in our own way...but believe me when I say...I’ve walked in your shoes. You’re young. You’re just hitting your stride. Your whole life is ahead of you and you feel like you’re invincible. That’s good....that’s how it should be...that’s the beauty of youth.
When something like this happens, especially when it happens so suddenly, it can be a real shocker. It’s a bit of a wake-up call, a bit of a reality check. I hope that Shane’s passing doesn’t dampen the fire within you...I hope it fuels it. I hope it serves to show you how precious life is, how fragile. I think Shane knew that. I hope that you will take all that was great in Shane, his laugh, his love for life, his sense of adventure, any gifts that he may have given you and any lessons he may have taught you. I hope you will hold onto it, keep it inside you and carry it with you. If you do that, then you can celebrate Shane’s life everyday by making your life as full...and rich...and extraordinary as it can be. Shane would want that.
Always remember...It’s important to mourn someone’s passing...but it’s far more important to celebrate their life. If there’s one thing I could say in consolation...
it’s that....You made a difference. You touched a friend’s life and you made it better...and that’s a pretty special gift...thank you.
In closing I’ll just say that Shane will always be remembered, always be missed and always be loved.
And remember...in no matter what situation you find yourself in life...no matter how unfamiliar, or stressful....and no matter how inappropriate it might seem...the correct response is always...laugh.

Till next time,

Lynda

www.musicwriter.ca