The Finer Points of Living with Grief

I wrote this four years ago on the anniversary of my mother’s day and just never posted it. I feel the same way today, six years after she died. Michele was still alive when I wrote this even though she isn’t mentioned. One of the concierges in my building told me if I ever need help, he is always available – I’m kind to him and he said that he loved my mother and how he remembers her every day. Me too.

“No Mummy, please…just…no.” Those were the first words out of my mouth when I realized that my mother was dead. She had slipped away quietly while I lay beside her, resting my head close to hers. I say slipped away, because my mother was just gone, almost in an imperceptible way. She did it quietly which was atypical of her. I used to joke around asking her if there was a switch to turn her off. She’d laugh and say, nope that’s me – a chatterbox. Instead of knowing that she had died, I discovered it, in what was just a few seconds, but seemed to be happening in slow motion. Initially, I was horrified, but then I got a hold of myself knowing that I would have to plan a funeral and get what was now my mother’s shell to where it needed to be. I gave myself a full five minutes to feel sorry for myself, then I attended to what needed to be taken care of.

It’s amazing how quickly you disconnect with someone’s body once their soul has left it. After that, for a week, minus a couple of small moments, I felt like I was walking through gel. Enclosed and protected, but not feeling anything at all. I thought one day, that I would never feel anything again, maybe I was safe from the sadness that seems to hit everyone else. Then, on the Saturday, one week after my mother left, it hit like a wave of agony. I’ve felt that way once before, when my grandmother died, but that was more immediate. This was built up over time.

With a lengthy illness, there are so many ups and downs. There was a day, when I was convinced that as I made my way to the hospital, that this would be the last time that I saw my mother alive. This was September 2017 – 5 months before my mother actually left this world. I remember thinking how different the world would look to me once she was no longer in it. How right I was.

The world is a much colder place without the warmth of my mother’s smile. My world feels smaller and more empty. What my mother lacked in stature, she made up for in personality. She filled a room, whether she was sick in bed and being her brave, bratty self, or when she was at her strongest.

I remember leaving her condo – my cocoon of safety two weeks after she died. The first time I walked back through the door, I went to her bedroom, the room where she spent so much of the last 16 months of her life. It felt empty, hollow without it’s proper owner. I went to my mother’s every week to pick up her mail and check on the place. Each and every time I walked through the door, and she wasn’t on the other side of it, my heart would sink. I would come into her room, touch her glasses, sit on her bed and just sob. To torture myself, just a little more, I may have turned on the CD of her funeral once or twice.

I remember that buzzing feeling in my stomach – the nervous energy that I constantly found rushing through me. The lump in my throat that to this day will never be completely gone. I still have that little ache in my heart. There is an emptiness that will never go away. There is something primal about losing your mother, or in my case, my chosen parent. It’s like walking with a wound that you can’t cover up.

When I visit at the cemetery, I speak to her like she is there. If I have to visit my father, albeit briefly, I always remind her that I’m there to see her, that I’ll be back in just a minute. I look at the stone, standing before me, and think about how I poured all of my love into this one last testament, to this monument standing before me. I always wonder if I picked the right epitaph for her….Heroic, Courageous and Dearly Beloved….but if you knew my mother, it was her to a “t”.

Even though I’m not religious, I spoke with a rabbi in the days leading up to her death. He told me that the mother that I love, the mother that I want back so desperately would never be the way that I wanted her to be, and that I had done everything that I could, and what I had to do was to help her leave the world with respect and dignity. That my own soul was safe even if I believed that I was hastening what was natural.

He called me the week after she died and told me that he heard a lot of eulogies in his time, but he felt that mine was different. That even though he didn’t know my mother well. he felt that after he heard me that he knew her. That it struck the right balance of sadness and solemnity and humour. That was my mother though – she was a combination of humour when it was needed and seriousness when that’s what the situation was called for. He also said she would be everywhere and nowhere when I wondered where she was.

Sometimes, when I speak about my mother, I move people to tears. Not intentionally, and it’s usually someone who already knew her. For people that look at me strangely for still grieving, I tell them that if you knew her, you would be sad too. Grief never leaves you and she was pretty fabulous. As long as I can keep things moving forward, and not lose myself in it, I see absolutely nothing wrong with it. In some ways, it has become a comfort to me. It means that the love that I felt for my mother isn’t lost forever. I always say, I had most of my life with my mother and only two years without her.

Thanks to my mother’s wisdom, I am able to carry on without her two years after she died. I often wonder if she knew that I held her in the same high regard that she held her own beloved father. I think she did. I hope that she did. That is the highest compliment that I can pay the most remarkable woman.

Remembering Michele

When you are grieving, dates matter. On October 19^th, it will be the anniversary of our grandmother’s death, but it is also the five-year anniversary of Michele being diagnosed with breast cancer. It is one year and ten months since her death. It is almost 4 years to the day of our mother’s unveiling. This is so much harder because losing Michele is the first time in my life that I’ve had to deal with something without her.

There are so many things that I miss about Michele that we would be here all day if I listed them all, but here are just a few.

1. Michele’s love of shopping and a deal was notorious – thanks to Howie, she was nicknamed Label. Our Boxing Day shopping extravaganzas were something that we always looked forward to. Michele would always find that little gem. One year, she found her favourite little black sequined dress. Whenever people complimented her on it, instead of saying thank you, she would proudly tell them it was $9.99 regular price $200.
2. Michele always had an honest opinion to share whether it was shopping or life. If we were shopping, and I’d ask her how a colour looked on me, she would give me the thumbs up or a disgusted look and say it’s awful. Or she would say, don’t you know your size? You aren’t as fat as you think you are. Another time, we were on a trip to Israel and let’s just say she thought I exaggerated about how high maintenance my friend was. She told me that I was right, and on a particularly bad day with said friend, she told her off and said friend said, well I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. Michele then proceeded to say, as only she could, “Oh you didn’t embarrass me, you embarrassed yourself.” I miss her candor – you never had to guess if she liked you or she didn’t.
3. Michele’s love of shopping was only matched by her love of junk food. Our treat queen didn’t discriminate between cookies, cakes, candy, or pie. She always had a candy drawer. She was also generous in sharing if you didn’t ask. My mother hounded Michele constantly for candy. Michele would give her an exasperated sigh and then slap licorice, jujubes or whatever the treat of the day was into her hand. My mother would invariably find her candy hiding spot and eat all the orange and red candy and my sister would open the drawer and see just the hated yellow and greens left. Michele would freak out – my mother would laugh, and all was right with the world.
4. Michele was always protective no matter how sick she was. I’m a weirdo magnet and Michele sometimes had to step in. One time, we were coming home from an appointment at Princess Margaret Hospital when I felt a nose in my hair. Michele gave the weirdo in question the dirtiest look, pulled me out of the way and let out an exasperated sigh. She was tiny but tough. Whether she was my bodyguard or just my confidante, I always felt protected knowing that my big sister had my back…and the back of my head.
5. Michele always looked tidy. She always was well dressed. Even more fascinating was how easy she was on her shoes. Her hundred or so pairs look like they have never been worn and her bags were equally pristine. She even fell with grace. One time I heard what could only be described as a light tinkling like bells, and then I heard Michele say can you help me up, I fell. I had no idea – only Michele could fall without a tell-tale thud.
6. Michele showed true strength and had a great outlook on life. She handled cancer the way she handled everything – in a forthright, unselfish, dignified way. From the time she found out that she had metastatic breast cancer to the time that her life ended, she always had hope. When she found out that she would lose her hair, she wore a wig that she picked out with Gail. When she felt sick, she still pushed herself to do things. We traveled, we went to plays, she went out with her friends. Although cancer was part of her life, she never let it overtake her life. She never complained and in the most important ways possible, she was my mother’s daughter.
7. Most of all, I just miss having my big sister. I took care of her physical needs, but she took care of me too. I know that she asked people to look after me when she died. It was typical of Michele to put others before herself and to consider my needs first. I said this before, but she knew that when she died, and I lost my immediate family, that although I may have a place to live, my heart has lost its home.

When I lost Michele, I lost all of my remember whens….I never knew a life without Michele in it – she was my oldest sister and the keeper of all the memories and our history. She remembered everything from me coming home from the hospital, things that we laughed about as children and things that we cried about as adults. Her loss is the first thing that I have had to do without her.

 “The enormity of the room whose door has quietly shut” describes how someone who is grieving feels. You walk into the lives of these people who have touched your own, like Michele. But when that door shuts, you can never walk through it again.

I don’t know if my sister realized how much space she took up in our lives and hearts. But now, although mine is filled with grief, it is also filled with love for my sister’s memory. With my sister’s death, I’ve lost my safe space BUT I know what she would have wanted for me. It is the same thing that my mother told me to do when she lay dying of the same disease that took Michele. Live your life she would say. I promise to do that for you Michele, to remind people that your life mattered and to carry you with me wherever I go.

The Seasons, the Ocean and the Star – Happy Birthday Mummy

My Mother on Her 70th Birthday

There is a reason, a season, a lifetime for friendships, at least they say that there is. You have a friend for a reason. The one you go to movies with, the other who is perfect at a party or yet another that is willing to try anything and pushes you to do the same. Some friends will last forever – they are your lifetime friends. Some are meant to be in your life for shorter periods. Sometimes there is a falling out or sometimes, you mean to call and too much time goes by or you simply have drifted apart.

Grief has a an obvious reason – the death of your loved one. Many people believe in a season for grief meaning you have a window where you can fall apart and after that you are expected to be the same person you were before the grief event took place. The reality is that grief is a lifetime and the seasons of grief are those windows of your grief journey when it becomes more or less painful. It is ever present though.

The same way the ocean ebbs and flows, so does grief. At the beginning, it is tumultuous and unpredictable like a stormy sea. At times, it is more calm, and manageable, but ever present like when the seas are relatively calm, but there are small ripples in the water. Like ocean currents, grief changes, but always comes in waves.

Lately, my grief has been more focused on my mother. I miss my sister dearly, but have missed my mother’s humour and savvy. The longer she’s been gone, the more I realize how much I still had to learn from her but in some ways, when I complete something, I can hear her steering me to those calmer seas that I crave. My mother was the most powerful presence. My sister was more reserved – more of a north star used to direct us versus being the person that would rock the boat.

My mother’s birthday is on April 15th. With that comes the waves of grief. I won’t be able to celebrate with her or just celebrate her in general. I won’t be able to buy her the ridiculous cake with the big flowers that she loved so much. She always cut a piece with the biggest flower. Once she finished that piece, she would start cutting little pieces off of the end. Cake was her favourite food group and as much as I hated that damn thing, I miss seeing her glee over her birthday dessert.

When the waves of grief are smaller, I laugh thinking about some of the things that my mother pulled. She had no shame. I think of her voice on the phone when she’d leave me a message. It was almost always this same, “Hi Dayo. It’s your mama calling. Where are you? Bye.” I miss her spirit and her smile. I miss being able to ask her a question with the confidence that she would almost always have the answer. She was brilliant.

I know that there are days when the swells of grief may feel like they will be too much. In those difficult days, I remind myself that my mother went through grief too, and she did what we all have to do. She survived and she lived her life. I allow myself that moment though. She deserves it.

I’ve always felt a pull to the ocean, having spent my childhood there. The poem, Sea-Fever by John Masefield reminds me, not just of my love for the ocean, metaphorically, my mother, but the star to steer the ship by – my sister:

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

Behind the Pink Ribbon: October 19th, 2017

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My sister, Michele before starting her first round of chemo.

I remember the words like they were yesterday. I was sitting in the emergency room at North York General Hospital with my sister. She was angry with me for making her go. Her arm was swollen and she showed me, so I immediately said that we needed to get it checked out. She sat down with me after speaking with the triage nurse. I said, “So, do they have an idea of what it is?” I naively thought that the universe wouldn’t be cruel enough to give my sister a major illness. She looked at me, and said matter of factly, “I have breast cancer.”

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I immediately denied it, saying “That’s not true.” I realized, in horror, that it was. I remembering sobbing. I was unable to contain the grief I felt in that moment. It was the worst news possible, my mother was also dying of breast cancer. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t stop crying, and my sister needed my support.

“How long?” I asked. She knew what I meant.

“I’ve known for a while. A few months maybe.”

“And you didn’t tell me or go to a doctor.”

“No,” she whispered.

“Is it because you were scared?”

She nodded unable to speak.

“I’m scared too, Michele, so scared. But I’m here, and I’m not going to go anywhere. We can’t tell Mummy until we know everything.”

She nodded in agreement. I proceeded to cry some more, still not able to control myself. I literally cried for hours. Michele was shocked at how broken I was over this. Although we all had our moments, I usually saved my tears for sad movies, or for my worry over my mother’s illness. Never in front of my mother of course, I only let her see me smile, or the odd time, at a doctor’s appointment, see my worry, although I learned to control that too and focused on being her advocate. I was her primary caregiver – although I had help with the day to day with the most wonderful “ladies”, I went to all of the medical appointments. I ran my mother’s errands. I handled her finances (mostly just doing the legwork – her mind was a steel trap). I stayed with her for hours in the hospital. But, I just couldn’t wrap my head around this moment.

I couldn’t face the thought of losing my mother, but as sad as that made me, my sister’s illness devastated me. Losing your parents, although hard to bear, is natural. Your siblings are supposed to be there for you in your old age. In those moments, my unassuming sister finally realized how important she was to me. I realized that life would never be the same. Michele said, “It’s tragic.” I couldn’t speak, the lump in my throat was so large, so I just nodded. There was a lot of nodding.

As the clock struck midnight, the day gave way to October 19th. A sad day in our family. It was the anniversary of our beloved grandmother’s death. About an hour into the new day, Michele was finally called in to be seen. She looked at me, and said, “You aren’t coming in yet.” So, like a child, I stood outside of the exam room, mindfully doing what I was told. I knew that my sister was angry with me. She was angry because I was making her face the truth. She could no longer deny that she had cancer. I was shaking, because I knew that the ER doctor was going to confirm our worst fear. I heard him say to my sister, “You know that the news isn’t good, don’t you?” She simply said, “Yes.”

As he walked out of the exam room, he looked at me, and said, “You made her come in?” I said yes. He then said, “You did a good thing.” In that moment, I didn’t think so. It felt like Pandora’s box was opening, and the truth was too much to bear. I went into my sister’s room, and we looked at each other.

She said, “I’m going to fight.”

I said, “I’ll be there for you, every step of the way.”

And then, I broke down again, not realizing that there could be any tears left, and said, “Oh my god, how can we do this to Mummy?”

My mother had been through so much, and finally had a bit more energy. She was bedridden, but brave, and funny and herself. I adored my mother. Admired her. My sister did too, but as she always said, I was a suck up when it came to my mother. I was “the baby”, like it explained everything. No matter how old I was, my mother still introduced me to her friends as, “And this is the baby.” I’d smirk and Michele would roll her eyes….but….

I was the one that my mother relied on the most, particularly with her health. I could deal with doctors. I took the time to learn every facet of her illness. I fought for her. I was her voice when she was too tired to speak. I wouldn’t let the medical system write her off. Caregiving and advocating for my mother was the greatest thing that I thought I would ever do.

I read my mother’s charts, eliminating the scary information that no one wanted to hear. The doctors glossed over the facts with her, not delving too deeply. When I read her charts – growing up and hearing medical terminology my whole life helped – I knew how bad it was. She would ask, of course, what the charts said, so I would read her portions – only those portions that gave her the information that the doctor’s gave – my mother knew all of the same terminology that I did and more, having worked in my father’s office for so many years. I was always so careful not to mention how broken her body was, because I didn’t want to break her spirit too. My sisters told me that they didn’t want to know what I knew. What could I do? I had to keep it to myself. In that moment (yes, I know that I’ve said it a lot), I knew that I would have to do the same for my sister. There would come a time when I alone would know the secrets that she didn’t want to hear about her illness.

We left the hospital with an appointment in hand with a surgical oncologist. It was around 2:30am. When we walked in the door, I bent over a chair and sobbed again. My sister tried to comfort me, but she was exhausted. We slept on the sofas together in the living room. She was afraid to be alone and I was afraid of what would happen if I couldn’t see her. I tossed around all night – too afraid to close my eyes. She slept mostly. She told me to go to work the next day. I was supposed to go to my mother’s, like I did almost every day. We agreed that I would go, and that I would hold it together.

I remember when I walked in, I put a big smile on my face before I saw my mother. She smiled, her big beautiful smile. I held her hand and she asked why I looked so tired.

“No reason Mummy, I just didn’t sleep well. Work was busy, the usual.”

“Dayo – my Dayo, you are doing too much. You need to take care of yourself.” (Dayo was her pet name for me).

“I’m good Mummy, don’t worry about me. Save your energy for you. I’m ok.”

Only I wasn’t. How could I be? But, if you have ever been a caregiver, you know that there are days that you will be. And days that you won’t. It all depends on the people that you are caring for and their test results. You begin to live your life in 3-month increments – from CT Scan to CT Scan. If the results are good – you feel elation. If the results are bad – then you feel despair only you can’t show it. Then you leave the appointment, look at your loved one and say, “The test results don’t account for everything. You are still here. You’ve got this.” Inside, you know that’s not true, but outside, they need to believe you. So you walk with them or push them in the wheelchair and you give them a reason to believe what you are saying, whether you yourself believe it or not.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Get checked out so that nobody has to have a night and a day like October 19, 2017 and so many days and nights before and after that. And remember that behind the walks and the pink ribbons, that there are stories of real people. One of those people was my mother, the other my sister. Their lives deserve to be remembered and so do the lives of so many others.

Mid-Life Crisis

Photo by Harry Cunningham on Unsplash

Someone that I know had their 50th birthday this year. I asked, in a not-so-serious way if he had a mid-life crisis to go with said special birthday. His answer – daily. While I don’t believe that is the case, I do know that it made me think about why some people have them, and some people don’t. It’s not a good or a bad thing – just something that I always find interesting.

We all know the clichés when it comes to men and women and their respective mid-life crises. Men trade in their SUV’s for sportscars that they can barely get into or out of. Depending on their budgets, the cars range from orange Corvettes on the low-end to lime green Lamborghinis on the high end. The obnoxious colours a mystery. Usually, in addition to their cars, they have done a trade in of another kind. I live in an area where I often see men with canes with their 27 year-old girlfriends. Sometimes, on a rare occasion, and I have seen this, it really is a love match, but that’s 2% of the time.

On the other hand, women who have hit that very same crisis have traded in their button-downs for leopard prints. Hey, I’ve been a fan since my 20s, I peaked early, I get it. They also officially enter cougardom, using cringe-y phrases like “let’s go dancin'” – apparently, in middle-age, you lose the “g” at the end of words. Sometimes, it’s “I gotta be me” – again, grammar goes out the window – words are lost, and the English language suffers. Said woman then goes on the prowl at places like STK and other assorted places where the boys are.

Still others moan about the best years of their lives being over and wonder, what the meaning of life is. Existential crisis, mid-life crisis, it’s all the same. I asked some of my friends about their own mid-life feelings. One said “I just don’t care” (a good friend of mine said this, and I believe her). A guy friend of mine who is of that special age just said to me, I still think of myself as a kid. Happily married, he isn’t into shall we say douche-y cars and women less than half his age. Yet another friend told me it was because he didn’t fear death and he thinks that things go downhill at 70 – although that isn’t always the case – so he wants to enjoy his best years.

I’ve thought about why I won’t have a mid-life crisis of my own. Part of it is because of my experiences. My sister, for example, died at 55. That means her mid-life was 27.5 years of age. My mother lived to be 78 which makes her mid-life 39. My Uncle Max, our reluctant family patriarch lived to be the ripe old age of 102 (give or take a few years). He played 9 holes of golf a day until he was 97.

In a convoluted way, what I am trying to say is that none of us know what or when our mid-life will be. We don’t have that mirror into the future. I don’t know if I’ve passed my middle age in my 20’s or if this is my mid-life. When I mused to a friend who thinks more deeply about things than I do, he said that the reason that I’m not having one is that for the last few years, my life has been so much about other people, that it was never my own and that now is a time to start it.

I think about aging, of course. I look in the mirror and sometimes, I stick my tongue out at myself because I don’t like what I see. I hope that I just age gracefully, and more than one person told me to get botox or fillers or other procedures. I’m just not into that – but if that’s your thing, go for it. One of the bonuses is that you also don’t care as much about what other people think of you – there are some benefits for sure.

Really, the crisis is that we fear is that our lives will end and that we won’t have ticked all of the boxes that we think that we should have and that perhaps, our lives won’t have meaning. But, I also think that we need to realize how much we have done before we hit that special age that we all think of as mid-life and how much there is to come after. Mid-life means that you have life, not that life is over. There are still things to discover and those boxes left to tick and sometimes you will find what you are looking for right under your nose.

I’ve mentioned this before, but there was a day, a very difficult day, when I allowed myself to cry in front of my mother for the one and only time during her illness. It was the day we told her that my sister had cancer. I knew just how bad my sister’s prognosis was, but kept it from my mother and told her that Michele would live. But the question that I asked in that moment was an all-encompassing “What am I going to do?” Her answer was simply that “You’ll live your life.” I knew then, that she knew more than she was letting on, but I carry those words with me every single day. Not just the words but how she said them. The way she looked at me so emphatically. And that is the best advice that anyone ever gave me.

A Eulogy for My Sister

I had such a hard time writing this Eulogy for you Michele. Nothing I wrote seemed to express how important you are and how for the rest of my life, I will make sure that people know that your life had meaning. I realized that part of the reason that I was having such a hard time was because I always read everything that I wrote to you to get your honest opinion. This time, I can’t read it out loud to you for me to catch mistakes and for you to say whether it’s good or bad.

Michele was my oldest sister, and engaged in her fair of torturing me. She told me constantly when I was a child that I was adopted, peed in my Bunny cup and told me it was apple juice and made me play house by cleaning out her drawers – I was the dummy that fell for everything (except the bunny cup). BUT Michele was also my protector, my guardian angel and my best friend.

Michele was always protective. Once, when I was a child, two older boys from her grade were picking on me. Michele picked one up by his collar and said he would be in trouble if he ever came near me again. They were both taller, and brawnier than my sister, but she had them cowering in fear. As we aged, she protected me in different ways but it mostly helped to know that I had someone, who loved me unconditionally and was always, always in my corner.

It’s so hard to summarize what makes a person special in 1200 words or less, especially a person like Michele. But I’ll try.

She was a candy-loving girl scout. You could always count on Michele to have a treat in her bag but also anything else you may need. I would ask her for the most obscure thing possible, and there it was, in my hot little hands. Treat queen, shopping queen or dairy queen – Michele was one of a kind. She was diabetic for a time and would have a cartful of danishes and chocolate, but would eye dried papaya, look at it longingly and then say, “I can’t have it, it’s too high in sugar.”

She was a quiet observer who had simple dreams. She was content with less. She proved that by always loving a deal. Every year, we would go Boxing Day shopping without fail. In 2017, she ended up in the Emergency Room because of a chemotherapy allergy. The next morning, at 6:30, she got up and when I asked her what she was doing, she said – do you think I’d miss out on a sale?

She had such a wonderful relationship with our beloved mother. The three of us spent so much time together over the years. My mother and I would pick on Michele mercilessly. We would jay-walk across the street, but Michele would always walk to the traffic light. We called her the straight arrow – but it was done with love. We would sing, horribly to her, usually something random, like “God Save the Queen” when Mummy would drive us somewhere. Michele would sit in the back seat, shake her head and roll her eyes, but she never complained. I was more like my mother in terms of my Type A tendencies, but Michele was so much like her when it came to strength and determination in the face of unspeakable odds.

Just like our mother, in 2017, Michele was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. The night I found out; I had taken Michele to the ER because she had a swollen arm. I spent so much time caring for my mother’s health that I mentally ran through the possibilities. It couldn’t be congestive heart failure – there was no reason for it. It couldn’t be lymphedema from breast cancer, because Michele didn’t have breast cancer, but it turned out that she did. I have always been given credit for being strong, but that night I fell apart, not able to face that both my sister and my mother shared this burden. Michele stayed strong and promised that she would fight and she did.

She fought through more rounds of chemo than the average person could tolerate. She fought through a hospital stay that nearly killed her. She fought through fear and discomfort with a determination that I’ve only seen in our mother. She never, ever complained. Not when she lost her hair, not when she was overcome with fatigue, never. She was, in the most important ways, my mother’s daughter. My mother was the strongest person I have ever seen but Michele was a close second. During the 6 months crossover when they were both ill, I didn’t know which way to turn, and when I asked each who I should be with, Michele would automatically say our mother and my mother would always say Michele – each selfless, each so strong.

Michele bravely watched as the very disease that she suffered from took our mother’s life. She didn’t roll over and play dead. She lived. She traveled. She went out for dinners and to plays and other surprises that I planned for her to keep her happy and motivated.

I was with Michele through every appointment and nearly every treatment up to the day she died. I held her hand all day that day, and at one point said, “Michele, I love you. Remember I’ve got you here and Mummy has you on the other side – we are both with you. You’ll be ok.” She looked at me for the first time that day clearly, mouthed something, and then, lay down her head and closed her eyes, and peacefully died.

My sister, unbeknownst to me, started asking my cousins and some of our friends to please look after me when she died. Michele knew that when she died, and I lost my immediate family, that although I have a place to live, my heart has lost its home. That without her, I would feel alone and knowing me, would be unable, and maybe unwilling to ask for help. Caring about someone, when you should be worried about yourself is heroic. That was my sister.

I found a journal that Michele had started for me so that I would have something special from her after she died. Procrastinator that she is, she never finished it, but that’s what makes it perfect.  On one of the pages, she wrote “Let me say that I am truly proud of how you have handled everything from Mom & then me. I know I don’t say it because I don’t want you to get a swelled head.  I really want you to know how much I appreciate everything that you have done for me.” Michele, I am so proud of you, you were so much more than you ever realized. You told me that I was your hero. Michele, I love you, and you are my hero. Your memory, along with our mother’s, is my greatest blessing.

It’s Not All Black and White

The events of the last week, namely the murder of George Floyd by a police officer and the incident in Central Park with Christian Cooper, a Harvard educated African American man who request for leashing a dog ended up with the threat of police action for no reason. Seeing these events unfold were horrifying. When George Floyd, gasping for breath called for his deceased Mama, my heart broke even more. I debated whether I wanted to watch the video, and in the end, I chose to. As horrible as it was, I felt it was important to see with my own eyes something that we can no longer turn away from.

There is a famous Latin quote, ‘Culpae poenae par esto. ‘ Let the punishment fit the crime. George Floyd’s was passing a counterfeit bill. Christian Cooper’s was being in the right place, at the wrong time, trying to enjoy his hobby – bird watching. Ahmaud Arbery’s crime was jogging. Two out of the three were guilty of nothing, and the third made a mistake that a white person would have just received a warning for. The punishment did not fit the crime and neither will the police officer with a charge of third degree murder. Anyone guilty of a hate crime, and let’s not kid ourselves, Arbery and Floyd’s deaths were hate crimes, should have also have that as part of their punishment and sentence.

Christian Cooper said something very interesting:

“Any of us can make — not necessarily a racist mistake, but a mistake,” Mr. Cooper said, “And to get that kind of tidal wave in such a compressed period of time, it’s got to hurt. It’s got to hurt.” He continued with:

“I’m not excusing the racism,” he said. “But I don’t know if her life needed to be torn apart.”

Forgiving words. We all have knee jerk reactions. My first reaction is that Amy Cooper got what she deserved. My friend, who like me, is part of a minority group, said the following about her firing:

“I think people like this should keep their jobs but be on permanent probation. They need to expected to be involved in multi-racial social projects and report back to their supervisors and the community with the hope that this can bring about a greater caring. While keeping their jobs donations will made from portions of their income to social projects. Firing has the potential to increase resentment and more trouble.”

It made me stop for a minute, and think, maybe there is more than one way to look at things. When someone who is racist looks at a black person, their knee-jerk reaction is to think criminal. If you are somewhat open-minded, your first reaction is that Amy Cooper should be fired. But, what if the right answer is somewhere in between? Remember that with anything in life, there is always going to be your version, my version, and the truth lies somewhere in the middle. Just food for thought.

Cityline host (a Canadian national lifestyle show) Tracy Moore happens to be a woman of colour. She was DM’d by people for speaking out about how white people can make life less frustrating for people of colour. She was told that she is a racist. She used a hashtag that I found interesting #allyisaverb. It’s true. A black person shouldn’t be comforting guilty white people right now, it’s not their job. Imagine if for 400 years, you were enslaved, then freed, then still not having full rights, you finally get some in the 1960s, only to see hatred and bigotry continue on. To see every step forward met with one step back. If you aren’t aware, read. If you don’t want to read a book, find an article. But, don’t make it their job to explain the issues to you. We live in a digital age, use the internet.

Canadians have to stop thinking that we are better than Americans. There are hate crimes here too. As a Jewish woman, I’ve seen so many reports of synagogue being desecrated I’ve lost count. Hate crimes against Jews are on the rise. I live in absolute fear, not that I will be harmed, but that the cemetery where my mother is will be desecrated. A non-minority person never has to even think of this. Imagine having to worry that in an instant, something that you poured your heart into could be destroyed by someone who hates you for how you were born.

There is a debate if Judaism is a nationality, race or religion. Many do not consider me white. That’s fine, I’ll take it. As a minority, I feel that it is my duty to speak out wherever it is possible. To realize that ally is a verb. To hope that our adage of “Never Again” applies not just to a second Holocaust for Jewish people, but for all victims of racism, sexism or hatred of any kind.

My Father and the Little White Box

A few months ago, I received a message from my step-sister letting me know that she had some of my father’s things and offered to ship them to me. This was very kind given that we only met once. My father and I had a strained relationship at best. I am not going to get into the details. It is no longer a factor in my life, and even though I had issues with my father, I do not have Daddy issues. To be fair to someone who cannot defend themselves, those problems belong in the past. I forgave my father a long time ago. I am writing about it today because it is the fourth anniversary of my father’s funeral.

I was curious to see what would be in the box and two padded envelopes that were coming. Maybe a piece of information that would help me understand my father a little, maybe an unseen photo of my mother (likely not) or even my mother’s parents. The box and packages came separately, and when I opened them, it was a lot of family photos from my father’s side of the family. I didn’t really know many of the people. There were a couple of photos of me, and many more of my sisters (the curse of being the youngest child). They also contained his medical diplomas, a cub scout hat from when he was a child, two rings (his medical school ring and a class ring) and finally a digital watch and a couple of other men’s “fashion” watches.

The items themselves didn’t make me feel much of anything. What saddened me the most was that his life came down to a little white box. Imagine living for 83 years, and that is your legacy. I think about my mother, and her life was so much more. Recently, I had a charity come and pick up most of her clothes, some kitchenware, books, cds, toys and a few knick knacks. It was just under 20 boxes and bags. I’ve thrown out 8 garbage bags of things and gave another couple of bags to a senior’s home. Her house is still crowded with her life, her things. My mother had a bigger life. She had interests. She was an artist – a pottery and needlepoint buff. She had so many photos and other treasures. It is all proof to me that she was once vibrantly alive.

My father didn’t have a big life. He was all about his medical practice. He enjoyed gardening and reading, but he was also very introverted. My mother had a presence about her. I remember watching her at her sickest moments, noticing that she still had a spark – a will to live. When I saw my father in February of 2015 for the first time in almost 20 years, it would also be the last time that I saw him. He was gravely ill, but even worse, he didn’t have that energy, that will, that my mother did. My mother’s death left me aching for her presence, but comforted in the fact that I can see that her life had meaning, because of what she created and because of the impact that she had on people. My father’s death left me sad for a person that didn’t have an anchor. When I grieve for my mother, I grieve for her loss and for what I lost. When grieved for my father, it was for the things that I never had. Now what I have is that little white box.

Project Empty: Try or Cry (2018)

Yes, you read that correctly – I got a little busy at the end of the year when I was going to send my final thoughts on these products, so here are my 2018 empties. As always, I’m supposed to say that this is only my opinion. You are welcome to disagree (although, sadly, I am always right, at least that’s what I tell myself). It is a long one, so get cozy. Just a reminder, buy is a product that I recommend and cry is one that I do not.

It Cosmetics Bye Bye Undereye Eye Cream Mini (Cry) – This didn’t do much for my under eye area AND it dried out before I could get too far into the product and it was a mini.

Drunk Elephant TLC Framboos Glycolic Night Serum (Cry but HMMMM) – This is difficult because I used it at a time when I wasn’t supposed to be using glycolic acids or any type of AHAs. In fact, I am still using Retin A so I should not be using any chemical exfoliant. I can’t recommend this product, but I really can’t offer an opinion. I would say try it if you are not on Retin A or if you do not have sensitive skin, it is a well reviewed product.

Drunk Elephant LaLa Retro Whipped Cream x 2 (Buy) – Here are my feelings on this skin cream. One note, I don’t know how I got my first jar to last 6 months, it is more like 2 months now, but it is a good product.
https://jillschnei.wordpress.com/2018/07/05/project-empty-buy-or-cry/

La Roche-Posay Toleriane Sensitive Daily Moisturizer (Buy) – This is a very good product if you have sensitive skin. It is especially good if you are on an isotretinoin for acne and your skin is in that very dry phase. It helped me a lot, but at the height of my treatment, I went through one of these every three weeks. It is also tested on animals so I stopped using it in favour of Drunk Elephant which ended up being more cost effective too.

La Roche-Posay Toleriane Ultra Eye Contour Cream (Cry) – La Roche-Posay makes excellent products that really worked on me. I just didn’t find that this really did any more for me than using the daily moisturizer on it’s own. I did get this free although I don’t remember why.

NIOD Ethylated L-Ascorbic Acid (Buy if I had to) – This was not a bad product, but the dropper made it really difficult to apply and to judge how much to use. I prefer Drunk Elephant’s C-Firma Day Serum. It has the perfect pump. This does smell better than C-Firma though if that is what is important to you.

Clinique Foaming Facial Soap (I believe that it is now Foaming Sonic Facial Soap) (Buy but not cruelty-free) – I got this from a friend a couple of years ago. It was fine, did what it was supposed to do. It didn’t majorly dry out my skin or cause any type of skin irritations which is always a concern for me. It was a mini so it was perfect for travel.

Estee Lauder Multi-Action Foam Cleanser/Purifying Mask (Buy but not cruelty-free) – See above – I have the very same feelings about this product. Since it is not cruelty-free, I’ll stick with Drunk Elephant.

Ahava Mineral Foot Cream (Buy) – When I first had my ankle surgery and my cast was removed, my foot and leg were SCALY in a see you later alligator kind of way. This moisturized my foot and made it look normal again.

Bite Beauty Agave+ Weekly Lip Scrub (Buy) – This worked well and the sugar exfoliated my lips nicely. It has a delightful taste. I’m not in a rush to repurchase this, but only because it feels like one more step for me. Maybe I’ll pick one up at the next Sephora sale.

Bite Beauty Agave Lip Mask in Clear (Buy) – This is an amazing product – I used it every night and it is by far the product that worked the best on my parched lips during my stint with isotretinoins. I will pick another one of these up as soon as I finish with my current night time lip treatment which should coincide with Sephora’s summer sale. I don’t need to stock up on lip treatments. One at a time is my new mantra.

Beauty Bar The Ten Spot Lip Balm (Cry) – This lip balm has a nice scent, but it is just an ok product. There are better out there, but it is a Canadian brand if you want to support it. I’m not sure if they still make this product.

Feet Treat Pedi by Look Beauty Intensive Moisturizing Foot Mask (Buy) – This worked really well on my feet – it was very moisturizing. The little plastic bags though, make your feet feel disgusting while you are doing the foot mask. I would also recommend plunking yourself in front of the TV while doing this – they are very slippery too. Enjoy the moment, relax and take a load off.

Sonia Kashuk Makeup Brush Cleaning Spray (Buy) – This cleaned my brushes so well and was so easy to use. The sprayer worked until the last drop too. I just wish that it was available in Canada.

L’Oréal Total Repair Replenishing Detangling Care (Cry) – I bought this out of desperation at the drug store one day, because I couldn’t find anything else. This weighed my hair down which almost never happens. It did detangle though, so if you have course hair and are ok with a brand that isn’t cruelty-free, this may work for you.

Laura Mercier Foundation Primer Hydrating (Cry) – I just don’t find that primers do anything for me in terms of wear time or finish for foundation, and this product was no exception. It was a point perk from Sephora. It is not cruelty-free so I would not buy it anyway.

L’Oréal True Match Healthy Luminous Makeup in Warm (Cry) – I think they may have rebranded this True Match Lumi, but I recommend leaving it at the drug store. I found the formula hard to blend and the texture almost felt oily. I’m cheap so I used it up, but I was never happy with my foundation. Next.

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Charlotte Tilbury Cheek to Chic Swish & Pop Blusher in Love Glow (Cry) – The colours were beautiful and went on nicely, but this blush did not have staying power on my cheeks. It is cruelty-free, but there are better options out there that are less expensive.

L’Oréal Infalliable Liner in Brown (Cry, Cry Cry, a thousand times cry) – I don’t think that they make this eyeliner anymore and I can see why. It is terrible. It does a few things that I’ve never seen happen with a liquid liner – it runs and smudges and causes raccoon eyes. If they didn’t discontinue this, stay far, far away.

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Tarte Colour Splash Lipstick (Mini) in Soaked (Buy) – This was the perfect lipstick. Great colour, great formula and great lasting power. It also had a really nice finish. It is one of my favourite formulas and once I’ve used up a sufficient amount of lipsticks so that I’m not overwhelmed with volume, I will repurchase.

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Smashbox Be Legendary Lipstick (Mini) in Fig (Buy) – This is also a great formula. Click here for more thoughts on this lipstick (Fig was a great colour)
https://jillschnei.wordpress.com/2019/04/30/project-empty-buy-or-cry-updates/

Sigma Tranquil Lipgloss (Buy) – Sorry, I don’t have a shade name or photo. This was really good, but it had a really weird brush applicator. I find doe-foots easier to apply gloss with. It still was a really nice product but bought it at Winners so odds are good that I won’t see it again.

Essence Lash Princess Volume Mascara (Buy) – I prefer Essence’s Lash Princess False Lash Mascara, but this is a good option if they are sold out. It lasted, didn’t flake or smudge. The price is right too at $4.99.

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Guerlain by Emilio Pucci Palette (Cry) – I never loved the shadows in this palette. They had a thick consistency but stayed on with primer. I also bought it in 2007, so I thought it was time to get rid of it! Guerlain cosmetics are not my favourite (except their foundation) and they are not cruelty free, so I will not be buying anything from the line.

Project Empty: Buy or Cry Updates

As I mentioned in my previous Project Empty articles
https://jillschnei.wordpress.com/2019/04/22/project-empty-buy-or-cry-2/, I am trying to use up or declutter a lot of beauty products this year (and next). How many times have you bought the same perfect pink nude lipstick twenty times in one year? Seriously, how many of the same shades of anything do we really need? I have become more aware of this, and spent my money at the Sephora sale almost exclusively on skincare because I am now completely out of my full-sized products and have been using trial sizes. Here are some more products that I have used up in 2019. The opinions are not meant to offend anyone AKA if you love something I hate, that’s totally ok. We are all different.

Drunk Elephant C-Firma Day Serum (Buy) – see the article linked above for my thoughts. Just a reminder, do not stock up on this product as it will degrade and oxidize over time. Buy only as you need it.

Drunk Elephant Lala Retro Whipped Cream x 2 (Buy) – Click to read my thoughts
https://jillschnei.wordpress.com/2018/07/05/project-empty-buy-or-cry/

Drunk Elephant Virgin Marula Luxury Facial Oil (Buy/Cry) – I got this in a “Littles” set from Sephora which is a great way to try Drunk Elephant products. I think if I mixed this in with my moisturizer, I would have liked this product more. People rave about it, and I am willing to give it one more chance. I just didn’t think it was the best thing ever.

The Body Shop Shea Body Butter (Buy) – This is a good body moisturizer. It is rich and creamy and I will buy it again because it is also cruelty-free. They always go on sale so wait for one.

Gold Bond Rough and Bumpy Skin Daily Therapy Cream x 2 (Cry) – Click here to read my thoughts on this product.
https://jillschnei.wordpress.com/2018/07/05/project-empty-buy-or-cry/ . Not bad, but not great.

417 Foot Nourishing Cream (Cry) – This was thin and not creamy at all. It did nothing to soften my tootsies. I recommend Ahava, this was just a cheaper alternative.

Germaine De Capuccini Synergyage Clinical Intense Renewal Exfoliating Mask (Buy) – This product works well for acne prone skin. My skin is no longer acne prone so I don’t need it. I am also not sure if it is cruelty-free or not, but it is very good.

Avene Tolérance Extrême Masque (Buy/Cry) – Avene is an excellent line of products especially if you have sensitive or acne prone skin. I only had a sample size of this masque so I am not sure if it really works or not. It is also not a cruelty-free brand. If that doesn’t matter to you, then I highly recommend this line.

Ciaté London Fierce Flicks Precision Tip Liquid Liner (Cry) – This was without a doubt, the very worst eyeliner that I have ever used. It is highly rated but I found that it was too thick and smudged like crazy on me. There are way better eyeliners out there that are at least $10 cheaper and won’t make you look like a raccoon.

Physician’s Formula Eye Booster Lash 2-In-1 Boosting Eyeliner and Serum in Blackest Black(Buy) – This is hands down, my favourite eyeliner and you can get it on sale at Shoppers Drug Mart or Wal-Mart. It lasts all day and it really does help your lashes (it is not a miracle worker though). If you are looking for a true black, get Blackest Black. Black tends to look a little gray.

Lancôme Juicy Crayon’ Lip Gloss Pencil (Buy) – I believe the colour was plum, but whatever it was, it was the perfect colour and a great texture that had lasting power It was a really nice formula, but the brand is not cruelty-free so I will not repurchase this product.

L’Oréal Paris Voluminous Butterfly Mascara in Black (Cry) – I bought this at Winners (Canada’s TJ Maxx) last year before realizing that I should just go cruelty-free. It is a very dry formula and I bought the waterproof version so it made it even worse. I used it twice and threw it out.

Lancôme Monsieur Big Mascara (Cry) – My sister gave me this mascara in 2018. It is not horrible, but it flaked a lot on me. I hate that in a mascara plus the product is not cruelty-free.

Smashbox Be Legendary Lipstick in Legendary (Buy) – I got this as a gift in a holiday lipstick set and it is a mini. It is such a beautiful formula, it lasts. The only issue is that the colour didn’t work for me so I had to declutter it. Smashbox makes great lip products and they are very under-rated.

Clinique Chubby Stick Moisturizing Lip Colour Balm in Curviest Caramel (Buy/Cry) – This is a great product. It has a smooth, hydrating formula and the colours are beautiful. It is not long lasting, but it doesn’t fade after an hour either. It is only a cry because it isn’t cruelty-free.

Klara Liquid Lipstick in 27 (Buy/Cry) – This was another Winners’ purchase. It is a very nice formula for a liquid lipstick. It was fairly comfortable and not gloppy. The only reason it is a cry is because the colour was terrible – it looked like I ate a powdered sugar doughnut and wasn’t lady-like enough to use a napkin after. It was a light pink metallic formula and I think the colour would only suit a 19-year old.

Marc Jacobs Beauty Genius Gel Super-Charged Foundation (Cry) – This was another Winners purchase. In fairness, I used this once and threw it out – it had gone bad and smelled terrible. Lesson learned: Winners has great makeup available but be careful with foundation. I believe that this product is discontinued.

Smashbox Studio Skin 15 Hour Hydrating Foundation in 1.15 (Buy) – This is a really nice foundation that is long-lasting with a nice, natural finish. I wouldn’t exactly call it hydrating, but it is a very good cruelty-free product. It doesn’t cake or crease on me. Their shade selection is excellent.

Becca Velvet Blurring Primer Perfecting Base (Cry) – This literally did nothing for me. I didn’t find that it kept my foundation on any better than not using a primer. I have yet to find a primer that does anything for me. This was a point perk from Sephora so at least I didn’t pay for it.

Maison Margiela Replica Beach Walk (Buy/Cry) – This smelled amazing! It really did smell like a walk on the beach. The cry is because the brand is not cruelty-free. This was a sample. I’m finishing off all of my old perfume, then will look for cruelty-free alternatives.