Daryl Wood's Blog

Sometimes others see things we can’t. Especially when we are unhinged in some way like I have been for months. Yesterday was 25 weeks since my beloved Doug passed away and I am still here. I say this with awe from both gratitude and surrender. A close friend who is 2.5 years ahead of me on this journey came to spend a few days, time to witness, hold space, reflect and, when it felt right, redirect. My gratitude was enormous and as I thanked her over and over again she remarked, “Daryl, you have so many friends I can’t keep track of them and there are so many people supporting you through this.” Of course, she is right. It’s not that I didn’t know that but in the depths of loneliness and despair it was sometimes hard to remember.

It takes a village to raise a child is an old proverb that people have adapted for other reasons. When I kayaked out to greet the sun this morning the words popped into my head. “It takes a village.” I knew that for me, it takes a village to keep me going, keep me safe, keep me comforted, fed, supported. It takes a village to know that when the dust settles in weeks, months, years, people will still be there, pausing to hug, acknowledge, laugh and cry with.

And even though I have a physical village in the little town of Tobermory where there is a smiling, welcoming face at every turn, I also have a village that far extends the boundaries of the Bruce Peninsula. My village has listeners as far away as the U.K., Australia, and in the U.S. there is kindness from Baltimore, Ohio, Tennessee, South Carolina, Alaska, Washington, New Mexico. Then in Canada they are as close as Orangeville, Ottawa, Lunenburg, the Greater Toronto area, Brigden, Kingston, Owen Sound, Baden, Cambridge, Milton, Orillia and on and on and on. My friend pointed out that I had more support than most people because not everyone has a village and she is right. This is my village.

My village has been crucial to my stability and emotional wellbeing and I have no idea where I would be without them. In the midst of acute grief, which I still am, it can be hard to see what my friend saw which is the depth of caring that I have received. Every word and action has been so appreciated but stepping back to take in the collective energy of my village has humbled me. Each act of kindness leaves me in tears because I wonder how I will ever adequately thank so many good deeds. I know Doug felt this way too as he was surrounded by so much love and meaningful support throughout is long illness and critical final weeks.

And I also know that I am part of a village for others. I have delivered food and flowers. I have sat with grieving families. I have raised money for a child’s surgery. I have donated after a fire. And I have listened quietly without judgement or advice when someone needed to get the pain out of their body and mind. I have been part of many villages and still am.

And, I think my village is something very special. My village is populated with a good variety of skills, experience and intuitive listeners so that there is always someone I can call. My village also has those with no idea what to say or do who fumble alongside me trying to figure out how to navigate this rough road. I’ve been nudged to accept the generosity of spirit that flows toward me. As a dedicated villager that can sometimes be hard but having my friend’s wise counsel tells me that being part of a village means giving and receiving as needed. I can do that for the sake of those I care about including myself.