Hello everyone!  Thank you so very much for all your lovely, compassionate and thoughtful emails and comments. It never ceases to amaze me how wonderful and caring people really are.

One of my designs did get chosen for Annie’s upcoming special interest publication. I wasn’t really sure how I’d react to having a project set before me, but I found out, oddly enough that I really do love to quilt! I thought quilting for me had come to an end. I had been contemplating selling off my sizable stash and concentrating entirely on my writing. But due to Mikes’ passing, I’m beginning to discover what is really important to me and quilting is, after all. My hopes and dreams are that I can combine my quilting and writing – which is what I’ve wanted to do all along.

I’ve written two children’s picture books (for ages 4 to 8) that do combine quilting and writing. I’m patiently waiting for that “needle in a haystack” publisher that will take on my stories. Fingers crossed!

I’ve also discovered, thanks to my son, that I need to drop all the “shoulds” from my life. How many times in the past did I consider what I “should” do instead of what I really wanted to do? Public perception, social pressures and old ideas that have been drilled into my head are going by the wayside. Mike’s untimely death has made me realize some very important things. Time is limited and it may very well end abruptly. No more trying to please everyone with the decisions I make. No more wondering if someone will not like me if I turn them down. No more anxiety over which direction to go. I will step back and really assess my decisions, using updated criteria. I’ve learned that life can easily take us on tangents, in directions we have no business travelling.

I want to spend as much time as possible at the lake in B.C. It’s peaceful and quiet and relaxing from morning ’till night.

(Photo of my quilts together with Rachel Elliott’s quilts)

On one of our trips home from the lake, something incredible happened to Rick and I. As we were driving past Radium and up to Olive Lake, on the side of the road (highway 93) we came upon a mother grizzly bear and her two cubs. There was no one else on the highway, just us. We were able to stop so near the bears and watch them. The cubs began to frolic with each other, play fighting, while mom paid no heed to us or her cubs. It was a special, incredible moment.

You know, if that wasn’t enough of a gift travelling home, we were about to receive another. I jokingly said to Rick, “Ok, since it must be our lucky day, let’s go find Bear 122!” For those of you unfamiliar with this beast, he’s an infamous male grizzly who, at times, has terrorized the Bow Valley Parkway / Castle Mountain junction with his antics of eating a black bear and fathering almost all of the bear cubs in the area. He’s quite the brute and quite the character!

Rick took me at my word and instead of turning onto the TransCanada highway off of highway 93, we went straight through and travelled the Bow Valley parkway, craning our necks the whole time looking for the big fella. Of course, the whole search was a wildcard, like searching for a “needle in a haystack”. We got to the intersection leading back onto the TransCanada and lo and behold, there he was! I was speechless! Who the heck goes on a bear hunt and actually finds the guy you’re looking for? No one, that’s who. It was crazy.

I got some photos of him as he walked in front of our vehicle and into the adjacent field to eat, eat, eat, which I suspect is all he does most days. We knew it was Bear 122, because he had a cut on his face, apparently caused by an errant porcupine quill. He was basically on the move the whole time, so my photos are okay, but not great. He was gigantic! Clearly the master of his domain.

The sighting of Bear 122 was one of those rare moments neither my husband nor I will ever forget.

Thanks so much everyone. Hope your summer is going great.

Kim

Last year, I had occasion to interview a lovely lady, a talented art quilter who lives nearby. The interview was for American Quilter Magazine – my article entitled, Is Quilting Healing Medicine? Margaret Jones Jessop had lost her beautiful 31 year old daughter, Katy, in 2014.

At the time, I couldn’t relate to Margaret and her family’s searing, lingering pain. Now, unfortunately, I can. It’s one club that I wish I didn’t belong to – parents who have lost a child.

Margaret mentioned to me that she didn’t touch her sewing machine for six months after Katy’s death. She had no interest whatsoever in sewing or quilting or creating. I get it, completely – I haven’t  touched my sewing machine since Mike’s passing. It’s like all creative juices instantly dry-up. There is a deep feeling of “what’s the point”?

Three weeks ago, my husband casually mentioned to me, “Maybe we should get that dog now”. I know that it was his attempt to make me feel better and I love him for that. I had been searching online for a older, rescue dog…a hypo-allergenic senior that wouldn’t irritate my allergies and was already house trained. I had been monitoring several Alberta senior dog rescue websites like,  ARTS, Senior Animal Rescue, Misty Creek Dog Rescue, and of course, the City of Calgary. but finding a small, senior dog in a certain breed (shih tzu, bichon, maltese) is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Then I happened upon Heaven Can Wait, a rescue organization run by Kim Hessel from a rural setting outside of High River, Alberta. I was inquiring about Beau the Bichon but Kim regretfully let me know that Beau had already been adopted. But, as luck would have it, she had a ten-year old, ten pound Maltese rescue that would be available for adoption. “Snowy” as her previous owner named her, was used to peace and quiet and needed to be placed in a home without children living there and be the only dog in the home. That was us! Placing a senior dog with seniors? Hmm…it sounded like a good idea to me.

So, Rick and I took a road trip and headed out to High River to meet the dog.

She was adorable! It was love at first sight for me. It took Rick a smidge longer.

After some extensive doggie dental work, Kim gave us the green light and we took Snowy into our home for a ten-day trial period, which passed in the blink of an eye. Snowy is absolutely lovely and now she’s our little dog. We take her on daily walks, car rides and she sleeps on our bed at night. She’s eased the pain, just a little bit, of losing our beloved Mike. It’s like she fills a portion of that gaping void in your heart. She’s like a tonic that soothes. She’s an affectionate little girl that brightens our day. She’s wonderful company.

The other day, just out of the blue, I decided to work on some quilt designs in response to a “call for queries” from Annie’s Publishing. Like I used to do, before Mike passed, I started to pull out fabrics from my cupboard. I sat down at my desk and drew and erased and drew some more. It was so cathartic! I couldn’t believe how being creative was part of who I am. I came up with three queries for the editors and we’ll see if they like them or not.

But, the funny thing is, it doesn’t really matter if they choose my designs or not. What matters is that I actually “felt” like doing my work again. I actually “felt” like choosing fabric palettes. I actually “felt” like myself again. It was temporarily, exhilirating.

I know this new development is not just because of a dog. Rick and I both have a very long way to go. But I also know that Snowy has helped us tremendously. I hope we can make a good home for her and give her some happy years. Just like she will give us.

Kim

How DO you mend a broken heart? A crushed soul? A devastated mind? I’m not sure and I sincerely wish I didn’t have to find out.

Our beautiful son, Mike, passed away from this world into God’s loving arms on March 15th…leaving us all in shock, disbelief and tremendous sorrow. My husband and I knew, due to Mike’s health circumstances, that he would not outlive us – but we never saw his death as imminent.

Mike was diagnosed with schizophrenia in late adolescence. Back in those days, (1996 ish) we knew our boy’s behaviour was, at times, “out there”, but we really didn’t know what we were dealing with. Countless physicians and psychiatrists and psychologists appointments later (and I really mean countless), Mike was finally diagnosed with the severe mental illness of schizophrenia. Initially, there was overwhelming relief at finally knowing what was plaguing our troubled teenaged boy.

We had no idea what was to come – what Mike would have to endure in his short life. Blister paks of daily medications, painful monthly injections and endless doctor’s appointments, which he gracefully learned to accept. We never failed to tell him how much we loved him and appreciated the fact that he took such good care of himself. But, as one might expect, the glut of meds took their toll over the past 21 years. His body was unfairly ravaged. Mental illness is the quintessential unseen thief

We were blessed to have our son for 38 years. We are missing him so profoundly that it’s difficult to really take it all in. A month and a half after his passing, I’m still in disbelief that he is gone…that he will never again set foot in our home, that he will never again sit in his chair for Sunday dinner, that he will never again phone me to talk after a Blue Jays baseball game. I will never again see his smiling face and waving hand when meeting him at his favourite restaurant (Swiss Chalet) for lunch, or at the theatre for a movie or at Co-Op to pick-up some groceries. That, is the true heartbreak.

I am a spiritual person and always have been. We know that our sweet and gentle Mike is resting in peace, that his pain has been retired and his struggle has mercifully ended. We also know that our souls will mesh again with his when we leave this life. What we don’t know is how to truly live life now that he’s gone.

Kim