Family, friends and acquaintances ask me how I’m enjoying my
new apartment. This is a very good question. I have a nice set-up. As I sit in
my living room, drinking a coffee as a freighter sails by on Burrard Inlet, it
occurs to me that this scenario should
make me feel good. I’ve always wanted a place with an ocean view. Often, the
sound of an eagle complements the setting. And the apartment itself is just as
I’d want it. Yet, when the question comes up, I have a very difficult time with
it. I could just say “I love the place; thanks for asking” and be done with it.
However, I can’t seem to bring myself to do that. This is something that I’ve
thought a lot about. Perhaps the apartment has taken on the role of the Petri
dish in which I consider the effects of the impact of losing a loved one to
cancer. It sucks to be my apartment.
I look around my place. I watch the boats go by. I hear and
see the beauty of nature all around me. I do want to feel that elusive
happiness. I’m also very aware that 90% of the world’s population would very
much appreciate any decent housing. Add to that the Buddhist teachings of life
- your existence being what you make of it, happy or sad. All that being said,
the apartment lacks a Kirsten. Perhaps it’s a matter of accepting that at this
time I have a low ceiling of joy and happiness and to be present in the now is
to just accept this space as is. My apartment just needs to hang in there.
Occasionally, I get glimpses of how I might live as someone
who, despite or because of experiencing loss, comes out of it as a stronger,
more focused person; the idea of having a new appreciation of life, living each
day to the fullest, carpe diem, living la
vida loca or “insert cliché here”.
Admittedly, these fleeting moments of “seize the day” usually occur after a
couple of India Pale Ales. I enjoyed the love of Kirsten; I have amazing
memories; I have her influence; I have gained perspective. So, can I use these
things to inspire a meaningful, enjoyable life?
I read Kirsten’s blog sometimes. It’s a powerful way of
reconnecting with her. It makes me smile and cry, usually at the same time. Of
course, reading some entries is more difficult than others. When I read her
last entries, I do so with all of the feelings of Kirsten’s last moments. I read
about how all she wanted to do in the end was to have the ability to take
Finnegan for a walk. This encapsulates how life is for me after her passing.
I’m living with both the debilitating sadness of losing her and the realization
that I do have the ability to take the dog for a walk. Kirsten fought so hard
and so well to live. My grief makes me question the reason for living. Kirsten
would probably let me know that I’m over-thinking it and that Finn needs to go
out.
 |
| Ocean, ship, no Kirsten |
 |
| Kirsten |
