just breathe....

This time last year I was getting ready to go on summer vacation with my son and my Mom and Dad, a week in a lighthouse on Prince Edward Island...bliss! Tonight I am packing to go on summer vacation with my son and my Mom, but no Dad. Sadly, we lost him 10 months ago.

We didn't expect he would be taken away from us so soon, he just turned 67, so as he was taking his last breath in the hospital my Mom told him he couldn't go yet, she hollered at him to "JUST BREATHE, JUST BREATHE, JUST BREATHE". So he did. She has a way of making people listen, even on their death bed. I am very grateful he listened because he kept breathing long enough for me and my son to get to the hospital, long enough for my brother and his family to arrive from New Brunswick and then for two full days so we could be together and accept what was about to happen, we were going to lose one of our own.

Just breathe is my mantra. It started with my Mom yelling it at my Dad. It is also the title of a Pearl Jam song that came out at the very same time as he was lying in the hospital. The words fit so eerily perfect, they could have been his, "I'm a lucky man to count on both hands the ones I love..." Pearl Jam have been the soundtrack to my life for the past 19 years, in fact I had just seen them in Toronto a month prior. Their music gives me what I need when I need it. I was fortunate enough to see them perform "Just Breathe" live this year in Hartford, CT, it was so beautiful and surreal, for that moment the 15,999 other people in the arena disappeared and it was just me and Mr. Vedder...

In a couple of days we will be loading up the car and setting forth on a road trip to take my Dad's ashes back to his hometown of Grand Bend, ON. The road will be paved with a lot of tears and most certainly, a lot of laughs. The three of us are pretty tight, I've been a single mom since I was six weeks pregnant, but that's a whole other story! My Mom was in the delivery room with me and has been my rock every step of the way. Although the purpose of this trip doesn't really scream fun, fun will be had, how can you not with an 8 year old that will be seeing Niagara Falls for the first time?

I can't wait to show him Grand Bend! I have such fond childhood memories of spending summers there. We would stay with my great-grandparents and spend the whole day at the beach. I can still hear the waves sashay in to lick my toes then crash out while I lay on my belly and drift off with the sun warm on my back. Then we'd peel ourselves off the sand, make our way back to the house for a home cooked meal (even though we'd stuffed ourselves with french fries and ice cream at the beach) and I would sleep on the couch on the screened porch, the passing cars lulling me to sleep.

My parents were the king and queen of road trips. As kids we were always going on a big summer adventure. One summer we drove the Toyota Corolla from Ontario to British Columbia. Right after Elvis died we piled into the Plymouth Valiant and drove to Graceland. We didn't seem to have a time deadline at all, we would drive until we found a nice place to stay with a decent pool then stop for a night or two or three, whatever.

My Dad was always the pilot on these adventures, he always seemed to know where he was going, we always felt safe with him at the wheel. One of the last big trips we took as a family before he got sick and couldn't drive anymore was the exact same route we will be taking on this trip. We cross the Canada/U.S. border at St.Stephen into Calais, Maine and drive through Vermont, New Hampshire, New York. He drove us through Lake Placid and the White Mountains, the scenery was breathtaking and every town we stopped in was a place I wanted to move to, like Burlington, Vermont. He had a way of making it seem like we just stumbled upon these amazing places when in fact he had carefully prepared the route well in advance of the trip, knowing exactly what little back road he would take and where it would lead.

My Dad started calling me Poopsie many many years ago...just to bug me. I wasn't and still am not really a morning person and he knew it would drive me nuts. The name stuck and I found myself responding to Poopsie or Poops and it became odd to hear him call me by my name.

So, my dear Dad, this road trip is a tribute to you. I've packed light, well somewhat light and am armed with great memories, funny stories and hopefully your sense of direction! I will keep you posted along the way and I will remember to just breathe....

Love Poopsie