What Remains is Love

Yes, Gentle Readers, there will be sharing of what I've been working on -- for there's been quite a bit of that -- but it will come later today in a separate post.

You see, friends, tomorrow -- Saturday, August 9, 2025 -- marks the 19th anniversary of my husband Howard's death from Type 1 Diabetes.

But...it's more than that. Fifty years ago tomorrow we were married.  We were just months away from our twenty-third birthdays.  We were pen-pals in the ninth grade, lost touch, reconnected in October 1974 -- and just months later became life partners.

He had moved from his hometown of Vancouver, B.C., to take a job an 'operator' -- a behind-the-scenes producer -- at a popular rock radio station in Montreal, playing tunes like this one, which became "our song":

Sedaka is back, baby! 😉

St. John's parish - Est. 1826

We were married on a hot, breezy day in St. John's Anglican church in my hometown, Huntingdon, Quebec -- and not without some trepidation, because his family was Jewish, and weren't really happy about the entire situation.  

However, our priest was on top of it.  He took the service from the more contemporary Episcopalian prayer book (USA), and there was only the wedding ceremony -- no other sacraments.  Following his introduction to be 'comfortable' for the prayers, my parents set the example and all stayed standing.  Lightning did not strike, and we made a happy celebration out of the entire day.

During the signing of the documents with our witnesses, we had another favourite song played..."If" by David Gates:

We got by with a little help from our friends...

Clockwise from lower left:
Bridesmaid -- my friend Martha Reeve;
Maid of Honour -- my sister, Wendy Daniel;
me and Howard; 
Best Man -- Howard's friend, Larry Long;
Groomsman -- our friend Wendell Siddall;
and Bridesmaid-- my friend Peg Simpson.

A year after our marriage, with political unrest and uncertainty in Montreal, we moved west to Alberta, setting in Calgary, where he had cousins and I had my sister.  There we raised our two children, and spent 30 happy years until his death.

The year before he died, we celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary with a cruise up the inside passage from Vancouver, B.C. to Alaska and back. The remarkable service, "Dialysis at Sea" made this possible, for by then Howard had spent nearly a decade, three times a week, taking kidney dialysis treatments at the Foothills Hospital, near the University of Calgary.

When we landed again in Vancouver, his mother had a reunion of family and old friends at her apartment to celebrate all those years together.

It was really our last, best celebration...and our daughter created an album for us filled with memories from that trip.

A bit more than a year later, Howard was gone.

He was my biggest fan as I began my fledgling art quilt journey, and was truly the only person who knew me well -- and loved me anyway.  He is buried in a little rural cemetery outside of Huntingdon, founded by my great-great-grandfather's brothers, and I hope to visit there next year, on the 20th anniversary of his passing. 

I've lost touch with my friend Martha, and our friend Wendell is now a widower, but I see my sister often, and remain in touch a few times a year with Larry and his wife, Lydia.  As for my friend Peg, well -- we remain particularly close, even as we age.

Larry and Lydia will celebrate 50 years marriage in December this year, so I am mulling what to create as a special gift for them.

And so it goes.

Every anniversary -- being a double anniversary -- has been a challenge for me these last 19 years, but this year, the sweetness of those months and that day, a half-century ago, is more present than the sorrow of his loss.

Next year, the 20th since his death, I will go home to Quebec to visit Peg. We'll likely bunk in with my cousins in Huntingdon, and drive out to Hillside Cemetery to pay respects -- to all who have gone before, yes, but most especially to the man who stole my heart all those years ago, and blessed me with a most wonderful life and legacy.

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." -- 1 Corinthians 13:13 

"What Remains is Love"
Black Bird Designs
Adapted by me,
in memory of Howard - 2022

Existential Examen (Day 9)

 Ah, well, now...

Just a couple of days ago, I remembered my late cousin Nina on the occasion of what would have been her 99th birthday.  I recalled how she'd helped me find a pen-pal when I was about age 10, going to her pen-pal, Brenda, in the UK.  Brenda's mother, Mabel Dumville, was a teacher, and she matched me up with a girl in one of her classes.

Time goes on...Years pass.  In the early seventies, while still in university, I travelled to the UK and met my pen-pal, Joyce, as well as Brenda, her husband Ken, and their son, Miles, who's about a week older than I.  I think Brenda would have liked Miles and I to strike up a friendship -- and we have, after a fashion -- though not in the way she might have had in mind! 😉

But Miles and I have exchanged Christmas cards for decades, and I have a collection of his family photos -- of his wife and their two daughters, mainly enjoying holidays together.

In 1992 husband and our children visited Brenda and Ken at their home -- by then, in Suffolk -- where the kids climbed the apple tree in their back garden, and we all had a lovely visit, wrapped in their warm hospitality.  Still later, after my husband died, I visited them again in Suffolk.  They took me to Constable Country, and to Aldeburgh, where a sculpture honouring Benjamin Britten is located on the shore.  The day was crowned with a delicious lunch in a nearby Inn, where Brenda instructed me in the proper way to enjoy Earl Grey tea!

Ken died a number of years ago now; since then, Brenda lived alone in their home in Suffolk.  For the last few years, she had a live-in care-giver, but Miles and his family continued to be in close touch.  I have one particularly lovely photo of them all celebrating Brenda's 95th birthday.

In 2022, Brenda turned 98 -- and suffered swiftly declining health. 

This morning I received word from Miles that she died peacefully in care at a nearby lodge in the early morning of January 25.  As I told him when I replied to his e-mail, no doubt by now she has located Ken, their daughter Jill (who died in 2009), and his grandparents -- and of course, caught up with Georgie-Nina, and my husband and parents, for she met them all over her long and special life.

Rest in peace, Brenda Dumville Holroyd; may your memory be for a blessing.  Today, I am grateful for your life, and all you gave us while you were here.

Remembering a Marriage, Making a Life: An Essay in Photos

 My husband Howard and I met first in high school -- as pen pals in Canada's Centennial Year, 1967.  We met 'for real' in Montreal in the fall of 1974, and were engaged February 11, 1975.

We both had longer hair then than later, 

and I wore contact lenses most of the time 

instead of my "Coca-cola bottle" glasses.

With Mom and Dad
at the home of my Aunt Alice Rennie
Time to go to the church!

St. John's Anglican Church,
Huntingdon, Quebec
(est. 1834)

In the fall of 1976, with a dramatic change in provincial government from Liberal to the Parti Quebecois (Separatists headed by Rene Levesque), we decided to move West.  Howard's family was in Vancouver, but we opted for Calgary because my sister already lived there, and Howard had cousins there.  Besides, I told him, I couldn't bear 5 months of rain in the winter.  I needed snow and sunshine!

We found work, bought a house and in 1980, started a family.

The nursery was ready...

Our daughter, Gina Ruth, arrived
January 13, 1981

And then there were four...
Our son, John Martin, arrived
June 6, 1985

The kids grew...

And grew...

And grew...

There were family vacations

High school came...

Gina - 1998

Marty - Grade 11
September 2002

We got older too.  Howard's Type 1 Diabetes, which began to show its nasty effects as early as 1986, grew more destructive by the year.  There were many crises, surgeries, and a decade's worth of haemodialysis.  Still...we managed to get away on a cruise from Vancouver, B.C. up the inside passage to Alaska to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary...

On our way!  Aboard a Royal Caribbean ship,
Vancouver, B.C., July 2005

A year later, he was gone...having marked 31 years together.

My mourning has not yet (quite) 'turned to dancing' as the Lord promised,

but there are many things for which I am grateful.

My reinvented life as an artist in a central Alberta rural hamlet on the rolling prairie.

Mirror, Alberta
Taken just after moving in, September 2008

Two grown kids whom I love with my life...

Who've gone on to higher education... 

Gina's M.Ed. - U of Alberta, 2008

Marty's BFA (Drama) - U of Lethbridge, 2008

At Marty's Dip. Technology Grad - NAIT
Edmonton 2014

 And who, despite the 4 1/2-year difference in their ages, and their very different personalities,

still manage to be able to get along when they're together!  😊

Celebrating Summer at Sylvan Lake - 2009

Edmonton, October 2016

With our parents gone, I've grown closer to my sister too...

With Wendy, July 2016

I like to think we're there for each other, no matter the miles between us.

My friends and colleagues are too many to enumerate, while my neighbours remain a source of support and help for this "widdy lady", as well as good friends.

It's been a good life thus far, despite the cares and struggles of illness, the loss of loved ones, the on-going challenges of aging, and the particular chaos that 2020 has brought.  

But I'm glad I'm here, expecting to mark my 68th year next month, having built a rich store of memories, with -- God willing -- many more to come.

Eternity in a ring
From HMB - Mother's Day, 1985,
now on my older hands.

On that wedding day 45 years ago, my step-father and I danced to a song that remains a favourite of mine when I think about how "...swiftly fly the years -- one season following another, laden with happiness...and tears". 

GMB 💕 HMB
August 9,1975 - August 9, 2006

Thanks for the Memory...

The "Memory/Memories" reveal is UP at 15 x 15 Quilt Group!  Yet another varied and creative response to an intriguing challenge theme...

Thanks to my friends and colleagues.  :-)

Bob Hope & Shirley Ross ca. 1938...

Another Year Older

I joined Facebook some years ago to keep up with my kids.  Little did I know that it would lead me to old friends, people I hadn't seen or heard from in 20, 30, 40 years.  S is one of these friends.  We grew up down the block from each other on the edge of town...her father was the local vet.  She spent parts of each summer with us at our family's cottage, and on day trips to places like the Granby Zoo.  She and I are 9 days apart in age (I'm older).  

Today, at 61, she marked my birthday with this photo she'd dredged up from God-Knows-Where.  That's me on the left, with the longer hair and the glasses.  We were about 15, I think, based on what she told me.  I think we are posing at her place, but I can't remember why.  Prom?  Just a special dance?  NO. Methinks it was the First Prom at our new high school...Chateauguay Valley Regional...May or early June, 1968....at the end of the Grade 10 year.  Check out the gloves!  (She gave me permission to post this, so don't freak out!)  (How many of you are old enough to remember when you first said, "Don't freak out!" ?)

I also heard from B and M today -- both gals with whom I graduated 'way back in....1969... Thanks, gals!

Buzz Aldrin on the Moon - July, 1969

Still, even with this photo and their well-wishes, I was a bit maudlin today.

Facebook has taken the place of "reach out and touch someone" -- that is, hearing the voice of a loved one over the 'phone.  Yep,  My kids remembered my birthday, alright -- on my Facebook Timeline.  Sigh.  No phone calls; not even a voice mail.

It's not their fault.  Somehow, my DH and I failed to teach them that second only to face-to-face interaction, the telephone (i.e., a live human voice) is the Next Best Thing.  FB and e-mail are great but I'm old enough to hunger for Real Human Contact and that includes hearing the voices of the people I love!

My sis and I celebrated last weekend -- as we often do -- because this week is always Canadian Country Music Awards Week.  This year the celebration was in Edmonton and I have to give a shout out to her because (drum roll, please!) once again she (and her team) at The Ranchmans have worked hard to win the "Country Club of the Year"!  'Way to go, sis!!

And some of my Mirror friends have helped me mark another year:  C took me for BLTs at the Whistle Stop Cafe yesterday; J gave me some pretty new earrings.  Earlier in the week, S took me for dinner at Joey's in Calgary (yum!)...so I am well and duly spoiled.

But...

Well...those of you who are Old Fogies get the picture.

Here's to another year!

Statute of Limitations

For six years, sow your fields, 

and for six years prune your vineyards

and gather their crops.

But in the seventh year, 

the land is to have a Sabbath of rest,

a Sabbath to the LORD.*

At the end of every seven years

you must cancel debts...

and let [your servants] go free.**

*Leviticus 25:3 (NIV)

**Deuteronomy 15:1, 12

On these passages, at least in part, the concept of a Statute of Limitations is based in Common Law.

Seven years...

My wonderful husband died seven years ago today.  Last year I marked the day with THIS post.

Seven years...

I have decided It Is Time for me to enact my own Statute of Limitations, to call for a Sabbath...

not from remembering him

not from remembering our marriage

not from being thankful for his life

not from being thankful for his legacy -- my children --

BUT

from the compulsion to publicly mark those special days

upon every anniversary 

or

birthday

INSTEAD

I will carry on the memories in my home

lovingly hung with photographs

I will light a candle 

in the morning

and 

in the evening

at my prayers

I will hug my children

even across cyber-space

and acknowledge and honour

their choices about remembering

even while I take a rest

I believe that God has new things

for Howard and me now.

It is time.

Rest peacefully, my love.

"For I know the plans I have for you",

declares the LORD,

"plans to prosper you and not to harm you,

plans to give you hope

and a future."*

Forget the former things;

do not dwell on the past.

See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; 

do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the desert

and streams in the wasteland.**

*Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

**Isaiah 43:19 (NIV)

The Hurrierder I Go...

The behinder I get!

I am still wading through unread blog posts, SAQA memorabilia and my studio.  As Jenny wrote this morning, it's "Santa Fe Overload"!

However, I have managed to download the over 225 photos I took on my trip.  As my children will attest, this is an exceptional amount of photography for their point-and-click mom, who's just learning how to "manage" photos (import, categorize, rotate, rename and otherwise manipulate) on this new PC/laptop.

As Jenny also said, Santa Fe was all about the people.  With the exception of a few stony-faced security guards at the airport in LA, my entire trip was filled with people who smiled, welcomed, gave directions, toted luggage, served food, taught, inspired, hugged, admired, thanked and in all ways filled my heart, mind and soul.  That said, most of my photos were of my surroundings and lots and lots and lots of art.  But here are a few of the people:

Nancy Turbitt

There's Nancy, who I swear never stopped beaming!  She glowed the entire time.  :-) We met in Denver in 2011 and it was such fun to see her again.

Jenny Lyon, me, Judy Warner

I have to thank Jenny for this clear and clean photo of the three of us at the Santa Fe Spotlight silent auction fund-raiser on Friday evening.  She and I have been cyber-acquaintances for 3 or 4 years; meeting at the conference has made us friends.  Joining Jenny and me in that photo is my long-time friend Judy Warner, whom I met in Denver in 2011.  Don't we make a great trio?  Our smiles say it all!

Sherry Kleinman, Judy Warner, me

Another new friend is Sherry Kleinman, a very talented artist from Pacific Palisades, California.  Here she is with Judy and I in front of a sculpture at the Folk Art Museum, which we visited Saturday afternoon.  Another great trio!

And I would be remiss if I didn't include the Canadians who travelled to the conference.  Alas, operating without the flash (by request), Judy apologized for the blurry photo.  Apparently this was the best of several she took at the time!

Rear (L) to (R): Mary Pal, me, Anna Hergert, Elaine Quehl, Hilary Scanlon, Donna  Hamilton
Front (kneeling): (L) to (R): Maggie Vanderweit, Heather Dubreuil
Absent: Rebekah Crown

Although there were 9 Canadians at the opening ice-breaker on Thursday evening, we seemed to have lost one along the way.  Here are the 8 who gathered Saturday evening after the banquet.  Perhaps more than the lighting transpired to make us look blurry: after a jam-packed 2 1/2 days, plus long journeys to get there, plus adjusting to 7,200 feet above sea level,  we were all undoubtedly feeling a wee bit fuzzy around the edges!

I know there are other photos out there of me with other friends -- Kathie Briggs and Teri Springer, I think -- and perhaps even with new friends such as Holly Altman -- but they're not on my camera.  Perhaps they'll pop up over the next little while on the SAQA blogs, member blogs and/or Facebook.

Just give us time to recover!

Shreds and Staples

I was in a mood today.  Not The Mood, just a mood.  I wanted things cleared away, cleaned up, turfed out, organized.

I began by drafting my income tax return for 2012, only to discover that the worksheets for medical expenses weren't linking properly, so the information wasn't getting to the bottom line.  I dispatched an e-mail to tech support for the program I use, and moved on...

To shredding.  Y'see, starting my return made me think about filing, and filing made me think about old records...and the stack of envelopes of statements dating back seven years or more that I'd yet to shred.

So...I geared up with a green garbage bag in my G-bag holder, and shredded several years of my life, dating as far back as 2002.  There were envelopes of investment, VISA and Master Card statements and receipts, and envelopes of old tax returns, utility and phone bills.

2004...when there were calls flying back and forth to Montreal and Ottawa when my godmother took ill and then died.  And Vancouver -- lots of calls there, to my mother-in-law; my hubby called her every week, usually on Saturday.

2002...when we were making claims on health insurance for artificial limbs, a hospital bed, the construction of a wheelchair ramp outside the house.

Cheques to pay for my son's first car insurance.  Cheques from inherited funds, to pay down our kids' university loans.  A cheque to my daughter's friend C for fixing my husband's car.  Regular cheques from my husband to me to cover his share of our church tithe and "miscellaneous" -- punctuated once by his quirky sense of humour:

"Miss L. Anius"

A receipt for the funds donated to my former high school when my aunt died, for a bursary in her memory and that of my father.  A cheque from my husband to our son -- $200.00, as I recall, with the memo line, "Ralph" (?).  Receipts for my hubby's paid speeding tickets...Sigh.

Hotel receipts for travels to see our kids in Edmonton and Lethbridge. Receipts from Sheffield and Sons...for wee cigars enjoyed on a 'guys' night in' sometime in the winter of 2005.

And the itemized list of expenses for our stay aboard Royal Caribbean's 'Radiance of the Seas' in July of that year -- the cruise to Alaska to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary.

When all was shred and done, I took three large green garbage bags to the car, to be transported to the recycling depot, and consigned piles of staples to the garbage...but I've kept 'Miss L. Anius" to slip into my journal.

Thanks for the memories, Sweetie.

My Heart is Full

I have the best kids!  Years ago, my late husband took a photo of them together in the autumn leaves on our front lawn; since then it has been my favourite...and they well know it.  :-)

With the arrival of autumn, my daughter recently blogged about the falling leaves, and that brought to my mind thoughts of the photo, and whether or not it could be replicated...25 years later.  Little did I know that Gina and Marty were hatching such a plan!  This morning, Gina sent me the results, even going to the trouble to pair the new photo with the original:

Right down to the smiles on their faces!  I love it!

I'll Be Darned!


My Sweet Daughter just bought her first single family home -- a cute 800-square-foot bungalow (with a finished basement)...and a garage that's almost another 800 square feet!  It's a bit older than I am -- and in almost as good shape!


I had the delight of working with her to do some prep work before she moved in yesterday,   Just a bit ago, I called her on her cell (the land line is not hooked up yet -- that's another story!)  -- and she immediately said, "I can't talk long, Mom; this is expensive!"  I replied, "But...I called you."

Apparently, long-distance rates on cell phones are exhorbitant, even if you didn't initiate the call.

Kind of puts a different spin on "Reach out and touch someone", doesn't it?

What I wanna know is, just who is laughing all the way to the bank?  Can I tell their kids how much it costs to keep in touch?  Their grand-kids?

Disgusting.

Or....maybe not.  I can go back to snail mail.  Just think: pretty stationery, personal, hand-written notes in non-abbreviated language...perhaps kept under a pillow for prayers, or stuck in a scrapbook for remembrance, or collected, like my father's WWII letters...

She's One I'll Miss

I've just heard on the CBC radio that Mary Travers has died; I've found this from the Times of London online. I grew up with her through my high school and university years, and loved the beautiful and thought-provoking songs and music they sang and played. At a time when so many contributors to our entertainment culture are passing, Ms. Travers is one whose contribution, with her partners, Noel Paul Stookey and Peter Yarrow, were significant and positive without pretense or flamboyance; peaceful, and law-abiding.

I have one of their audiotapes from a PBS special done a few years ago; it will now be an extra-special treasure, because the event can never be repeated. RIP, Mary. Your music lives on.

Remembering

From my journal this morning:

I am trying not to worry, but the shape I'm (not) in is occupying my mind greatly. That, and being forgotten again at birthday time by D, J, and C, in a way. I should let this roll off. They are busy women and now live far from me -- farther, as my neighbour says, than I live from them. My SIL did call me on the day, yes -- "to check up on me", she said, three times during the course of our conversation. She never mentioned my birthday. Neither did I.

Being remembered is so important, though. In fact, it seems to me that it has become such a pre-occupation in our culture that people seek celebrity -- even in wierd and wonderful ways -- in order to make it happen, to ensure they are remembered.

That is not the sort of remembering I seek. I don't want to be notorious, or to achieve my "fifteen minutes of fame", as Andy Warhol put it. I simply want to be loved enough to be remembered on my birthday by my family and close friends.

Instead, I receive well wishes on Ravelry and Facebook from relatively unknown acquaintances, and from complete strangers!

Today, several thousand will be remembered because they were killed in the World Trade Center, at the Pentagon, and in a farmer's field on this day in 2001.

Wednesday, I was in the congregation that remembered K, wife of M, mother of H and J, who died last week of a rare and terrible cancer at the age of 46.

It is an honour and a duty and a privilege to remember those taken from us by war or disease, but there is something very sweet and special -- particularly so -- about being remembered when one is still among the living. If one is remembered on the small occasion of one's birth by those who are nearest and dearest, it is an affirmation of their love and friendship, an assurance of one's worth and an appreciation of one's life as it is now. That's why it means so much.