Beginnings and Endings

After our dinner party on Saturday, we had a fridge full of leftovers. While the chocolate cake was quickly divide up and shared with my grandma and parents (as well as eaten for another couple of nights as dessert, mmm), there was still one whole chicken in the fridge and 2 carcasses taking up plenty of space. C is very efficient at breaking down a bird. When he's done, no meat is left on the bone. With a whole roasted chicken waiting for him to eat over the course of the week though, there wasn't a need to be as precise with the 2 leftover chickens. C had been talking about making chicken soup. The first time we had done this together, we barely had a shred of meat on the bones and the soup wasn't very rich. We've since learned to leave some meat to cook down with the water. So, as soon as we got some time, C got to work on the stock. Two full carcasses, rough-chopped carrots, onion, and whatever other veggies he could find in the fridge that needed to go. We put in a couple of bay leaves and some pepper then went about our business of errands once the water had boiled and we could turn down the element to simmer the stock.

After our errands, we came home to the wonderful smell of from-scratch made chicken broth, mmm! The smell is an instant mood-booster and transports you back to a childhood memory of you mom making a big pot of soup on the stop on a cold winter day. The smell really does warm the soul. After ample sniffing of the air and the steam and oohs and ahhs with our closed eyes, we drained the vehicles of flavour that had released all of their goodness into the pot and were now just empty vessels.

Chicken broth being drained

The broth was rich and oily from the chicken fat, and some chicken soup powder was added to boost the flavour. After a few adjustments, the soup was done and it tasted heavenly. I had a bowl that night, just plain, in a mug. The salty, meaty taste was perfectly lovely, and the chicken went on to live again as its last parting gift to us.

Half of the stock went into the freezer in an empty ice cream pail to use one night to make a real chicken soup with meat, veggies and fresh dumplings that my husband has mastered from my mom's recipe. I love when he makes those for me. I feel like an excited kid, waiting for them to be done so I can pluck them out of the broth and gobble up the pillow-soft puffs of dough, flavoured with the salty broth that everyone secretly know the richness of it comes from the love of those that prepared it.

Chicken stock - half frozen for later use

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This next post is about loss, so those of you who do not wish to delve into talk of life and death should skip the last bit of this post.

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While on the subject of memories, love, and living on through something else

Tuesday morning, I received a phone call at work that set in motion a sad and draining day for C and his family. His grandmother had passed on. Both C and I immediately drove to the home that she had been cared for in, and met up with his family. Arrangements were made, many tears, hugs, stories, goodbyes, laughs and condolences were shared. Later that day, at C's parent's house, family and friends stopped in to offer sympathy for the loss and share the joy at the life that they had known. Death is the other half of life that we try not to think about, but inevitably, we are reminded that our time here is limited. Much like how we often need reminders and incentives to get something done around the home, or a kick in the pants when we get into a run, the death of someone close to our circle, or much loved, brings to light a re-evaluation of our own current state. It takes a death to remind us to live. While it seems cliche to say "live each day to its fullest" as well as personally thinking that this is difficult to do since many days are lived to reach another day that we will be able to fully enjoy (the way we work to be able to afford a trip we really would like to enjoy, or retirement plans). However, it is important every once in a while to take a conscious step back and try to look a bit more objectively at our lives. Ask yourself some fair but perhaps hard questions: Am I where I want to be right now? Do I know where I want to be in 6 months, 1 year, 5 years, 10 years? If I am not where I want to be, do I have a plan to change that? Am I happy? Do I appreciate life? Have I been taking people for granted? Have I told those I love that I love them?

Everyone has a different idea of what happens to a person's body and/or soul after death. Growing up in a number of different religions as a child and young adult, my teachings were varied and today, I hold onto only my own personal wishes of what I like to think happens to the soul. I would like to think that once the body is no longer alive (the brain is dead, the lungs and heart are not functioning...with modern technology, this can all be maintained through machines, but I am speaking of natural states of the body, without assistance) the spirit or essence of a person, leaves the empty shell that they once inhabited. The way a small crab whose grown to big for its current home, leaves to find a more suitable place to inhabit, I think of life in the same way. The soul of a person has outgrown their current body and can no longer call it home, so they are released to find a new place to inhabit. Many people would call these new homes heaven or hell, or purgatory, for the Catholics. Many believe that once the body is dead, the spirit no longer remains. Some people believe in resurrection. All of these topics are very touchy and provoking to some, so I am keeping this about my own personal beliefs and hopes. I dream that if there is a higher being, that their design was not for people to suffer, especially not for infinite amounts of time. I don't believe in hell. I like to believe that after our life on earth, we go to our second life. Not reincarnated, but to our own favorite memories and parts of life that we get to relive. We get to see those that we love, do the things that we love, and enjoy a place without suffering or death. A limited personal world. I am sure that many would want to argue with me and bring up all sorts of logical queries as to how this would work, but really, our thoughts of what happens after death are our own. Some faiths rely on the future possible outcomes as a way to coax people into living better lives and to have a reward or punishment at the end. I don't see it that way. I see that you have this life to enjoy to the fullest or suffer to the fullest, depending on your own decisions, and then, who knows, maybe we get what we hope for and expect after that, good or bad.

With the events of this week, I have been reflecting a lot on my current life. Am I happy? Am I where I want to be? Yes, I do wish that our house was finished and we could just enjoy living in it instead of stressing about getting it done. I am happy though. I am alright with still having work to do. Life is a balance. Without effort, without challenges and hardships to overcome, how would we appreciate the moments of true joy, bliss, and unconditional love? I love my family and my husband completely. The relationships I have with the people that I love are the most important things in my life. I don't wish hardship and loss in my life, but I am also not going to dwell on the loss and forget about the life. I lost my aunt after she battled breast cancer. She fought hard, but in the end, succumbed to her illness and slipped off to begin enjoying her second life. I know that she is happy knowing and watching the people she has left here enjoying life, laughing (as she did, often and infectiously), and remembering her fondly. I do believe that she is watching from somewhere and smiling, sending us thoughts of congratulations at marriages and celebrations and offering an invisible hug to comfort us when we feel lost. I have some tears in my eyes typing this. I know that when I married my husband, I thought about her and my great-grandmother who weren't able to enjoy the event in body, but I definitely know that they watched on and celebrated together in spirit for us.

Today is C's grandma's funeral. Funerals are hard because it is the final step and the final goodbye to the body. The heaviness of the hearts all contained in one place weighs on the shoulders of all of those sharing the grief. One tear can turn into many much more easily. Crying feels encouraged as a release of the sting of the death itself, and is accepted within the context of the event, shared by those around. I know that it is going to be a very hard day and while I didn't cry at the nursing home, I know that tears will flow more readily within the confines of the church. I am saddened for the loss, but that sadness is always for more selfish reasons. I wanted to be able to see her sharing in the future joys of her family and friends. I think most about wanting her to have seen her other grandson get married, even though he isn't currently dating anyone. I just know though, that when that time comes, like my nana, she'll be there in her best dress, dancing the night away, laughing, toasting, and wishing him only the very best with sparkles in her eyes, reflected in the star of the night sky.

I am thinking of today as a celebration of her life. The very first day that C and I decided to end the games and just be together, she was the first person we told. We were in the parking lot of the nursing home and C asked "so, is it ok if I introduce you as my girlfriend?" I said yes and grandma smiled at us with that knowing look and told us how happy she was. I will fondly remember her slapping C, playfully but strongly for a woman of her age, whenever he would tell her something that she would half jokingly disapprove of. I will remember that I once baked her a cherry pound cake, full of butter and sugar (even though she was diabetic. A stubborn diabetic) and brought it over for her to enjoy. My first bundt pan experience. I will remember that in addition to all the photos of past and present family members that were lovingly adorning all corners of her room, she also had a special board with photos of every one's pets, as they were just as much a part of the family. I will remember C going to show her his first tattoo, that he got after his dog Max passed on. Not to worry, because I know now that grandma is running around with Max, maybe even in Africa, where she spent some time. I remember how happy she was the day that we got engaged and immediately drove to the home to show her the ring and share with her the good news. She kept looking at the ring on my hand and held my hand for the whole visit. I will remember her determined attitude to attend our wedding and how happy I was that she was able to come and how much I knew that meant not only to C but for the whole family. We have lovely pictures to hang, once we finally get around to filling out collage frames. Most recently, she also had that same determined attitude when C's brother bought his first motorcycle after taking the beginners riding course and when he rode it over to show her, she wanted to get on the back! I am sure it wasn't an easy feat, but there is a very happy picture to prove that she did it. I can still see the child-like excitement shining through her smile at all of these simple life pleasures. Every person sufferers heartache and hardship in their life, and she had her share of both when she lost her own husband a number of years ago to congestive heart failure. She was blessed to have spent so much time with the man that she loved, and even more so for having loving and caring children that despite being in a nursing home where she received round the clock care if needed, she was also visited almost daily by C's mom and aunt. In the summer, when C and I were really buckled down working on the house every night and weekend, I had many trips to Home Depot with C's mom, and after each visit to grandma's she made, I would hear whether she was in a good mood and it was a pleasant or fun trip, or if grandma was extra crotchety and moody. I say this with a smile as no matter how much we love people, they will always test our patience when they are difficult and obstinate, as we simply have to roll our eyes and wait for the dark cloud to lift.

I will remember the last visit that we went to see grandma. I had been bugging C that we head to the home as we hadn't visited in a while. We brought Mrs B as grandma loved dogs and animals in general and always got a kick out of our little hippo of a Frenchie. B was running around the room, exploring, and biting her fingers and she was laughing. The visit was nothing out of the ordinary, we caught her up on our lives and asked what was new. What did catch me off guard was before we left, we hugged grandma as per usual and told her to take care, C said "I love you". Of course I know that he fiercely loves his family, but they are not an "I love you" saying bunch. I don't think that I ever recall his parents hugging or holding hands or kissing, or anyone of them saying "I love you" to each other, so hearing those words from C's lips, to his grandma was surprising but wonderful. Life surprises us in many ways, and while nobody knew when grandma would pass on, I am eternally grateful that C said those words on our last visit to see her. I know that even if he hadn't, she knew, but this is now my last memory, and the most powerful one.