The Last Post

I'm not entirely sure what conclusions to draw from these pictures. I could say:

• Life is fickle record any memories worth saving cause if anything happens to you or your brain the people around you will lack your perspective on life
• Some parts of my life are lost somewhere they are locked up in unreachable parts of my Mom's brain so I'll never know for sure which birthday or Christmas concert is pictured
• Memory is a funny thing, sometimes it is vivid and you can taste, smell and feel the experience other times it leaves you drawing a blank no matter how hard you try.

I must conclude that this was an interesting and challenging experiment. It was intriguing to see what kind of memories some of those pictures stirred up. It was a success because it allowed me to explore and try and rewrite my history from random clues within each picture by probing my memory to see if somehow subconsciously I knew something more.

I will leave you with a picture symbolic of the journey. We all have our past and our past is a part of us but our past does not define us. We are defined by how we choose to act in light of our past. I choose to take what I can from my spotty history to treasure the good memories and learn from the harsh realities. I choose to keep traveling down the path God puts before me and to embrace the present as it comes. I will attempt to record my memories for those who come after me that they may learn from my mistakes and share in my adventures.

Thank you for journeying with me through this shoebox

Picture#12 October 9, 2004

Once again we find ourselves in the Arborg hospital. My Mom is again the one lying in the bed. The first time was we were celebrating my brother's new life. This time it was a prayer filled vigil. This picture was taken on my fifteenth birthday.

My Mom lay inert. Her eyes would open and I did passive physio on her every day after school, but she, herself, could not move. She had a tube in her trachea and a ventilator pushed air in and out of her lungs. Tubes carried liquids in and out of her body through many different portals. Monitors beeped and whistled. Sometimes they would shriek and nurses would come running. My Mom's condition was fairly stable but she was a vegetable.

Occasionally she would try and mouth something, but because of the tube in her trachea she had no voice so we really didn't know what she was saying. The doctors felt like it would be alright to try and take the trachea out. So first they had to do a day of 24hrs off the ventilator, but because our hospital is so small one of her family members needed to stay with her. I stayed with my Mom. I talked, I sang, I tried to do homework, I carefully monitored her breathing. After that 24hr period she passed the test, and so they took out the trachea. For the first time in 3months she had a voice.

The voice that spoke from my Mom's body was not her own. The things she said made no sense at all. That first day she was worried about packing up our cabin-we don't have a cabin, then she kept asking where her baby was-my brother was 10. She was confused and did not recognize anyone except for her Mom, and she only recognized her sometimes. My Mom was lost.

Picture#11 '03

It is summer, we are in Creighton, SK, visiting my cousins and Grandma. Someone probably Auntie Sandy said, "Hey, we should get a picture with Grandma and all the grandkids!" so we piled onto the couch and took a picture. What I really like about this picture is that it captures the special relationship that Grandma and I had.

When I was little I was very close to my Grandma. I followed her everywhere, and tried to do everything she did. However, she always loved my sweet and gentle little sister and would favour her whenever she'd bring new fabric over to sew us some new clothes. I just wanted be loved by her. We got a long quite well until my Mom got sick. Once my Mom got sick my Grandma was unable to see the hurt and the need of her daughter's family but only her sick daughter. She unwittingly hurt my Dad, and I very badly by judging us and saying we were not doing enough for Mom even though both of us had sacrificed pretty much everything in order to take care of Mom. Last year I wrote my Grandma a letter explaining the pain she had caused and ever since things have been on much better terms.

Picture#10 '02

I am cutting my Dad's hair. I think this was the first time that I cut my Dad and brother's hair. We had just bought clippers. I'm not even sure what prompted the decision but ever since I've been cutting their hair. I remember being so nervous. I carefully studied the instructions sheet and diagrams that came with the clippers and then I started cutting. I remember my Mom hovering over me being concerned that I not make Dad bald and helping me figure out how to cut around the ears.

Over the years as I have cut my Dad's hair I have noticed it thinning and greying. The year my Mom got sick my dad's hair went from pepper with a little bit of salt, to salt with a little pepper.

Picture#9

The wonderful outfits in this picture were definitely orchestrated by me. I would often come up with elaborate make believe games for my siblings and I to play. In this one my brother and sister are wearing the dresses my sister and I wore as flower girls in my aunt and uncles wedding and I'm wearing my mom's old dress. I'm the bride in a lovely forest green dress. When I was younger I always dreamed of getting married and being a bride. My sister and I took turns being the bride, but my brother made the cutest flower girl. We would often dress up and play wedding or photo shoot.

After we got dressed-up we would go to the store, where our parents were working and show them our lovely outfits. I think Mom decided this one was memorable enough to photograph.

Picture#8

In this picture I'm sitting with Brownie, my dog and constant companion. Each day after school I would grab a freezie from the freezer and go for a run with Brownie as we ran we'd stop for freezie breaks. I would suck some of the juice from a piece, and break it off, then push it out for Brownie to eat from my hand. Brownie was such an important part of my life. He bled to death shortly after my Mom got sick.

I remember his last night trying to get some broth down his throat with a syringe. Lying with him on the garage floor and crying. Laying with my arms around him. It was the middle of winter and it was bitterly cold. I had laid out a rug for him, but even with the rug the cold from the cement penetrated my warm flesh with icicles. I lay with my arms around him and wept. For in his death I lost not only my dog but the keeper of my secrets, my shoulder to cry on after my Mom got sick and the only constant thing at my house.

When I see our old van in the background of this picture the first thing that comes to mind is the wheelchair ramps that we had when my Mom was in her wheelchair. We had to set them up, wheel Mom up into the van. Next we used the metal lock bar our neighbor had created and lock her wheelchair in place then take down the ramps and slide them into the van. Then we would be able to go wherever we where going.

Picture#7 June 2000

This picture is from one of my school picnics. At the end of the year my school would always have a whole school track and field day with teams, ribbons and awards. When I was younger, it was the highlight of my year. Each student would get a couple of dollars to spend at the canteen, and then you had to choose from the dazzling array of sweets, what you would spend your money on.

The day would start out with academic(above 95% average), Bible memory and character awards being handed out. Every year there I received academic and Bible memory awards. Your name would be called, and then your awards announced and you would run up the play structure. Shake Tim, the principal, and your teacher's hands and collect your certificates from your teacher. Then you slid down the slide.

I started going to Morweena school when my Mom became a teacher there. I was in grade three at the time. As her teacher's present that year my Mom got a chair and umbrella like the one pictured above.

Picture#6

For this picture I'm using two photos because they give me additional clues to that year. I know that it is my sisters birthday so that places these photos around June 3. I'm not even sure which year they are from though. There is only one envelope for fall'98 till 2000. I tried to count the candles, and I'm not sure, but I'm going to say these pictures were taken around 1999.

In the picture where my sister is opening gifts , my eyes are drawn to the bloodied bandage on my right forearm. I remember how that happened. We had friends over and they were chasing me. I think we were playing indoor/outdoor tag. I was trying to get out of our door which had a wooden frame with a thin glass window. The door must have been slippery or something because as I tried to push the door open my hand slipped and slid through the window. I don't remember the moment of it happening. It is like my memory skips. One moment I'm pushing the door open, and the next I'm screaming, I'm going to die! with blood streaming down my arm and a big chunk of glass embedded in my arm. I ended up going to the hospital, and getting three stitches.

I remember my Mom coming and calming me down. She quickly assessed the situation and talked me out of thinking I was going to die. Then she loaded me into the car and drove me to the emergency room. Once there she sat in operating room holding my other hand while the doctor put in three stitches on my right arm.

Picture#5 Summer '98

My Great Uncle Roger and Aunt Sam had just come to visit us on their motorcycle road trip and Uncle Roger gave us kids rides. I always wanted to look the part I was playing and so I was remember being all excited because my little brother had a leather jacket and I wanted to wear it. Unfortunately it didn't fit. I was very sad. I remember watching my brother, sister and neighbor girl whiz around town in the leather jacket. I think it was my Mom who suggested that I wear my jean jacket. So I ended up getting my flowered jean jacket and wearing it instead thinking that I looked so hardcore.

When I look at this picture now, the first thing that strikes me is my loud clashing clothes. But that didn't bother me then. I loved my stretchy flower pants and jean jacket. I thought I was so cool blazing around Arborg on the back of my Uncle Rogers bike.

I remember the exhilaration of flying down the highway just outside of town. I felt so free. The thrill, the rush of the wind around my face I was in my adrenalin seeking element.

Picture#4 Summer 97

This picture was taken when we were camping. I'm not sure where we were camping. In this picture my Mom and I are sitting by the fire and talking.

I do not remember this specific conversation or camping trip but I remember many other times sitting and chatting with my Mom about whatever was going on in my life. My Mom was the kind of Mom that I could tell anything to. My Mom would listen without judging. She would pray for me and offer advice but only after listening.

I remember that trailer. Many times we loaded it up with old pots and pans, puzzles, cards, board games, badminton rackets, soccer ball, frisbee, sleeping bags, candles, swimsuits, noodles, and lots of yummy food. Then we would go camping in it and our old Ford Mercury.

When I look closely at the picture, it looks like I'm trying to whittle a stick. The year before my parents had taken my older cousin camping with us, and he was always whittling roses, so the next year whenever we were camping I kept trying to make roses.

This picture is a snapshot that captures a taste of the kind of relationship my Mom and I had.

Picture#3 1996

This picture was taken at my Grandma Weik's house. Grandma Weik was a wonderful older woman from our church, who adopted us as her grandchildren.

Mom and us kids drove out to Grandma's farm to spend the day with her. We headed out around lunch time. Grandma served us a wonderful farm meal of homemade noodles, some kind of meat and a myriad of dishes made with garden veggies.

Then we would go out to her huge garden and "help" her.

Afterwards, for coffee, she let us have our favourite cookies, those wafer cookies with layers of icing. Her house was the only place we got them because Mom would only give us homemade cookies. I remember sitting and pulling them apart layer by layer and scraping the icing off with my teeth before eating the cookies. The silky sweet sensation of the icing flooded my senses with security as I listened to my Grandma and Mom's voices rise and fall in "adult" conversation.

By the end of the day Grandma would have bags of garden produce for us to take home with us. Then at the end of the day just before we left she would let us free on her beautiful flowerbeds to pick any flowers we wanted to take home in a bouquet. She was such a generous woman. Her death was hard on us all. I remember crying with my Mom in our basement. We were both heartbroken. Grandma meant so much to us both. I will always aspire to be as loving and generous as Grandma was to me.

Picture#2

I found this picture in the '95 envelope but I'm not sure if it is from Christmas '94 or '95. There are few clues in the picture. I can see that this is my class' Christmas play. I am front and centre as Santa, which I was for k-Gr.2. I remember the teachers telling me that I had the loudest clearest voice and so they wanted me to be Santa. Sometimes I wanted to be a pretty glittery star like the other girls instead I was bundled into layer upon layer of clothes, pillows, and beard as Santa. I remember being upset about being Santa and complaining to my Mom I don't remember what she said but I do remember that it made me feel a lot better and by the end of our conversation I felt proud to be Santa. I remember having to wear my teacher's big black boots in Gr.2 but I can't tell from this distance whose boots I am wearing. At least I had the only speaking role. "Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight"

Picture#1 May 3, 1994

Zachary less than 12 hours old.

My Mom wrote that on the back of the picture, and that is all I really know about this event.

This picture was taken when my brother was born. My Mom is sitting on the hospital bed, and my sister and I are standing beside her. My Mom looks young and beautiful. My sister is being cute and cuddling my brother, who is wrapped in a green striped blanket. I smile largely. My eyes are folded in by my cheeks and my smile is very lopsided. I cannot really remember this time of my life. One thing I remember is that I always wanted to hold my brother.

Our local hospital still has the same vinyl covered chairs. I sat in them ten years later in October on my birthday when my Mom lay, silent and immobile, in a hospital bed. Instead of the jubilant woman celebrating the birth of her son my Mom lay as a rag doll, limp unmoving, and unseeing.

The Photo Project

This project has been a journey of exploration in attempt to recover memories from a ten year period of my childhood which is undocumented. I endeavored to do this because my Mom had a brain injury and no longer remembers this time so I set out to see how much I could remember. This life experiment was facilitated by a shoebox which held envelopes full of photos in random and at times unidentified order. Last year I went through and tried to put them in chronological order according to the dates written on the envelopes. For this project I went through and randomly selected one picture for each year. Later as I started to write my picture memories I realized that this time period is bookended by pictures of my Mom lying in a hospital bed. The posts that follow are my attempt at the recollection of those memories as best I can in order to recover these "lost" memories.