• Archive for June 2015

    Uncle Grant

    Sunday, June 7, 2015

    It has rained, gushed, our city was ravished. 
    It’s familiar to a few years back when our hamlet of Bragg Creek was washed away.

    The magnitude, scale of this storm’s devastation far grander. 

    It had been beautiful the whole of that Memorial Monday.
    We hung out banners and made lemonade, celebrated Lachlan’s fifth birthday. 

    Late into the afternoon the clouds deepened, thickened with threat.
    As the storm gathered we got a call, one we had been dreading, 
    that death came to our beloved Uncle Grant.


    We knew it was coming, the last of his breath that took ours away, winded us with grief. 
    Roger’s Uncle, a pillar in our foundation, so much more like a father. 
    Just like that he was gone. 

    We gently slowed the celebrations down, fed the children dinner, placed them to bed, turned out the lights, 
    finding each other in the needed solitude of the night.
    We had hardly settled when alerts started coming through our phones. 
    Tornados and floods, damaging winds, shattering thunder and lightning.
    We found live data covering the storm, we could see the images of a moving storm, the darkest red covering the map sliding over our road, just then all of nature became very still, not even a leaf trembled. 
    When we looked up there was clear sky, about a half mile radius of complete dense energy hemmed by a ring of raging storm clouds. 
    We have never experienced anything so eerie. We were in the eye of the storm, the centre environment perfect for a tornado.   
    We gathered the children into our room and away from the windows and waiting until the utter stillness moved beyond.
    How relieved we felt when once again the thunder, rain and wind clapped and shook around us. Holding to its force all of that night and into the next, shaking our home until pictures were rattled off interior walls.  
    Though the storm was wild and gruesome it somehow fitted the state of our grief.
     In those early unfamiliar moments of loss, sunshine and warmth may have felt insulting.   
    For those hours of unrelenting nerves, with all our littles tucked under-covers and my baby hushed within my arms, far from windows and the howling outdoors, the storm was my sermon of loss and of awesome Holiness an unexplainable serenity within the turmoil of grief that can only be felt with the hope heaven offers and the beautiful spiritual promise that ‘to be absent of body is to be present with Christ’. 
    We do not grieve without comfort. The deep of our grief is the testimony of Grant’s pillars of friendship, guidance and care in our lives. 
    His life was a gift given and poured out for God, us and a great many others. 
    He will always be loved.

    Uncle Grant
    So few pictures
    but the one I do have is exactly who and where you have always been,
    sitting over your boys 
    filling your life with  


    Monday, June 1, 2015




    I might not be ready for this. 
    I know I am not. 

     I ache to know Brennan’s infancy has passed
    forever from my arms, 
    they have grown beautifully accustomed 
    to cradling his young life.
    Nothing has been more natural than to have him moulded into every part of me. 

    Every day I am aware that my children are growing away from me. 
    This is my role, to enable them to leave.

    Motherhood is a sweet bitterness.
    To delight in every new discovery and millstone 
    knowing it is but one more step away from you. 
    Another mile in the journey to independence. 

    I want to capture time, hem it in, steal back seconds, moments, decades. 

    I can’t really believe we are here, 
    lighting a single candle,
    encouraging him to blow away the flame of his last year. 
    Cheering him onwards. 

    I just want to go back, run my fingers over the cheeks that were still unfamiliar. 
    Even though I have slowed right down to a pace of treasuring what is fleeting. 
    I have held Brennan longer, 
    let him find rest in my arms, 
    just so I may experience the exquisite peace of a sleeping baby. 
    I have not moved away from a moment of laughter or tears.
    I have nurtured this baby so deeply,
    because I understand now what I did not as a much younger mother. 
    that the hours of infancy are so very few. 
    Yet it is within each of these secret unannounced displays of devotion that as Mother I have had the most influence over my child. 
    I have experienced it within each of this years passing days,

    the Holiness of Mothering. 

    The gathering of one so delicate and dependant, 
    placing Him in the forefront of my purpose.

    Nurturing Him up and away from the safest most sacred place on earth. 
    My Mothering arms. 

    We had a lovely celebration just us and our little sailor 
    on the back porch as the warm setting sun saluted Him with a blazing golden hour. 

    Happy Birthday 
    My Sweet 
    Brennan Grant