Friday, February 23, 2018

i don't really know how to go about saying what i'm about to say in regards to something that has been keeping me up at night this past week, but i'm going to try and attempt to express my thoughts any way. (this is my blog, after all.) ;)

a lot of it is has to do with people's opinions, mind you. i mean, we all have them. but there's a difference between sharing our educated opinion in a respectful manner and spewing our pain and personal agenda onto others in a hateful and hurtful one. especially while using a public platform.

so, i'm going to practice what i preach here and assure you that the issues i am about to unpack in this (and my next) blog have been well thought out and researched, and will be done so from a posture of respect. (that being said, as always, i am open for discussion providing that this, too, can be done so in a respectful manner.)

i think we can all agree (at least 99% of us) that the shooting that happened in florida last week was tragic and preventable. why some teenager had access to a gun (although we all know why) and had the audacity to take innocent people's lives with it is extremely heartbreaking, and frankly, quite scary.

but the response that has come from all of this has left me feeling sad, too.

i get it. it's in our nature to point fingers in attempt to try and make sense of something (even when we can't) with the hope of coming up with the proper solution, but our approach is off when we start believing that social media debates are helpful and/or worth our time.

i'm speaking from experience here. i have spent more time than i'd like to admit reading (and rereading) my friends' facebook posts and scrolling my own twitter feed this past week, and frankly, this is probably why certain issues have been on the forefront of my mind as of late. but i can't be the only one being affected by this, and i surely can't be the only one thinking that there isn't only one solution to preventing a mass shooting from ever happening again. call me crazy, or even naive, but i believe that there are many things that played a factor in this tragedy and the 18 shootings that have happened in america so far this year, starting with the obvious: (lack of) gun control.

i don't live in america (thanks, captain obvious) and so my research on gun laws and such is limited to the several articles i've read and clips that i've watched, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that an AR-15 (or anything similar, whether it has a certain grip or folding stock or not) has no place in the hands of a mentally unstable teenager. or any teenager for that matter. or a 64 year old man hanging out of a hotel window in vegas. or a teacher in the name of defence. or anyone, really. (unless you're a soldier at war which is a whole other blog and not something i necessarily agree with, either.) so trying to eliminate semi-automatic rifles is a start; that florida kid (i refuse to put his name in print) wouldn't have done as much damage with a pistol or a knife. or (enter any other available weapon here.)

of course, lenient background checks play a factor, too. AND inadequate mental health care. AND the lack of thorough FBI follow ups and training. AND society's inability to be able to recognize warning signs and report them (there were many people in this case specifically who heard the kid say some really questionable things including expressing interest in school shootings). AND sometimes, (certain) video games/the isolation they can create, AND at times, poor parenting.

now let it be said that in no ways am i about to jump on the "lazy parenting is to blame here" bandwagon, - parenting is really, really hard - in fact, reading through these types of comments infuriate me (especially this time around seeing as how this specific kid lost both of his parents within the last few years due to death, which also could have played a part in this), but at the risk of sounding like john lennon here, i do believe that 'love is all we need' and that the love and sense of belonging we (should) receive from our parents (in its various forms), the love that we share with each other day in and day out, and the unconditional love that i believe that God has available for all of us, is part of the solution.

part
of
it.

that's the whole point to this blog, actually; there are so many factors involved in finding a solution and so many steps required for change.

so what do we do? (a question that has kept me up at night this week.)

if i'm being honest, i still don't know.

for some, it may look like getting rid of your gun(s) like that new york man (scott pappalardo) did, changing your vote OR actually voting. (i'm not here to preach at you or to tell you who to vote for; my name may be paula, but i am not a pro when it comes to PAULAtics). for students and survivors like emma gonzalez, cameron kasky and david hogg, or fred guttenburg, one of the victim's parents, it may look like standing up to the marco rubios (florida's senator) and the dana loeschs (spokeswoman for the NRA) and demanding answers. to others, it may not look like anything at all; truthfully, sometimes, all we know how to do is offer ‘thoughts & prayers’ or write blogs ...

but for goodness' sake, people, can we please stop wasting our time and tearing each other apart on facebook and twitter and have serious, action-based conversations instead?

Monday, February 12, 2018

my program director called me into the office and passed me an envelope with my mom's handwriting on it. outside of a tiny 'alliston, ontario' on the top left corner, it had no return address, but i could tell it was from her.

confused as to why my director handed it to me, i looked up.

"just open it", she said.

inside this mysterious envelope was not only a $20 bill, but explicit instructions to “give this money to a student in need". a paragraph later, it explained how grateful this 'anonymous lady' was for all the help other people had given her daughter (that would be me) that year and wanted to pay it forward. my mom was thoughtful and generous.

i had a teacher call me fat in high school. the minute i came home and told my mom what she said is the minute she picked up the phone and gave it to her. and by gave it to her i mean she pretty much threatened her life (or at least her teaching career.) my mom was feisty and protective.

but she was also softhearted; she hugged every nurse that helped her throughout her cancer treatment and hospital visits, including her family doctor minutes after he reluctantly told her that her cancer was terminal and that there was nothing else they could do for her. (i know this because i was there and i can't stop thinking about it.) my mom was appeciative.

during her stay at the princess margaret cancer lodge, my mom would often galavant into the neighbourhood in between appointments. on her stroll one afternoon, she saw a homeless man diving through the garbage looking for food. "i took my wallet out and gave him my last $5", she said. "could you imagine having to do that?". my mom was compassionate.

not to mention selfless. she spent the last sixteen years of her marriage taking care of my dad as he deteriorated, 'forcing' her to sacrifice so many things (some of which i wouldn't even dare to write in this blog) to ensure that my dad never suffered alone. she pushed through the stress and 'burden' of it all with minimal complaint - even when it cost her her own health - proving to my dad that she stood by the vows she made on her wedding day and proving to my siblings and i that although love can be messy, it’s also durable. my mom exemplified sacrificial love.

and influence. i'll never forget reading a post a woman had written on her facebook wall the week she passed away. she recounted time after time when my mom's sense of humour and welcoming nature helped her overcome her battles with (school related) anxiety.

when i was young, my mom drove a school bus and she was great at it. even won first place in their annual bus driving competition. i remember that day so well, actually - just as much as i remember sitting in the front seat as a young kid as she drove around making her rounds - but what i don't remember, and would have had no way of knowing at the time, is how much of a difference she made in the lives of the students who boarded her bus each day. reading this particular tribute three decades later made me beam with pride; my mom was a difference maker.

of course, she was one of the funniest people you'd ever meet, too. you couldn't possibly be in her presence for more than a few minutes without laughing uncontrollably and getting your ab workout for the day.

she was hilarious, thoughtful, generous, feisty, protective, appreciative, soft hearted, compassionate, influential, an example and a difference maker, and so much more, but today, above all of these things, on what would have been her 72nd birthday, she is fondly remembered and still worth celebrating.

happy birthday, mom. love you and miss you every. single. day. xo

Thursday, February 1, 2018

the phone rang. it was my sister calling to let me know that my mom fell in the middle of the night, banged her head and was on route to the hospital via ambulance. my heart sank. when would this woman ever catch a break? when would we?

i felt sick to my stomach just thinking about it. i had planned on going to ottawa a week later to celebrate my mom's 70th birthday but was it wise for me to go now? my busy calendar told me no but my gut told me yes.

no joke, within the hour, i get an email from a high school friend telling me that she not only thinks that i should go and see my mom right away, but that she wants to pay for my flight there. soon after, not only did i have a flight booked to ottawa the next a.m., but a ride to the airport at the butt crack of dawn.

unbeknownst to any of us at the time, the day i landed in ottawa proved to be my mom’s very last day on earth and because of the kindness of a few of my friends, i got to experience many lasts with my mom; her last words and pep talk, last hand squeeze, her last breath.

and even though it pains me to type (and retype) the word 'last', am i ever grateful for that day, because, as painful as it was, it was also full of beautiful, memorable moments and what i like to call 'pockets of grace'; moments in life that enable you to pause, take a deep breath and give thanks amidst hardship.

so today, i’m thankful for ‘gut feelings’, the faith to follow them, people who make it easier to, the day i got to spend with my mom before she died, and the friends who let me crash on their couch two years later to assure me that i’m not alone as i relive her final days, either.