Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | October 28, 2024

One Thing Always Leads to Another

While visiting a friend for a few days I came up with a plan to reorganize my office so I could have my yoga mat on the floor full time with space for meditation and reflection. Since I’m not ‘officing’ much anymore it was a good idea only slightly (it seemed in my thoughts) complicated by the large table that held craft supplies and paperwork I hadn’t filed. No big deal. Until it was.

In order to make the changes I would need to put the craft stuff somewhere else. A cupboard upstairs would be perfect and near the kitchen table where crafting on the rare occasions I did it could comfortably be done. Except that the cupboard was full of photographs, frames and memorabilia. The sorting began and morphed into several other spaces until they finally landed me in my office closet where I spent good chunks of yesterday. Piling up miscellaneous and outdated photos and paperwork for commercial shredding I sat with the stack of file folders from the Women’s Wisdom Retreats I led for 17 years. Each folder held registration forms, menus, schedules, notes and feedback pages. Everything began to move into the bag for shredding to protect the privacy of my clients and eliminate outdated information. I took my time thinking about each group, each woman and what we had learned together. As I glanced at the feedback pages I decided I would keep these because it was comforting to know how many women left here with hope, inspiration, self-awareness and self-confidence. I knew I would enjoy reading them again. In between the pages were occasionally cards that had been sent at a later date and this is when I paused and gulped.

In a variety of handwriting so many women wrote about Doug. In the early retreats he was very present sharing dinner with us all, helping them build little boats and getting cars ready for the trip back home. Eventually he was only a shadow on the outskirts ready to help if needed (he did most of the kitchen clean up) and staying out of sight to give our guests the time and freedom they needed to pursue their inner awareness. The little notes I was now reading showed that he had a positive impact with his kindness and humour. I had forgotten how much I depended on him to pull off these events. He would often joke to me that I made about $5.00 an hour considering how much time and energy I invested before, during and after the retreats. His income from his shared responsibility was even less! It was definitely a labour of love for me and he fully supported what I offered because I felt so privileged to be trusted by women from literally around the world.

Ironically it was Doug who was the reason I stopped in the fall of 2017 when his medical needs were too sporadic to be certain there would be no interruption. As I read the cards and reflected on the retreat experience I told Doug how proud I was of us for doing good work together. We made it happen and the success (and sometimes failures) were a product of our dedication as a team.

I wouldn’t have guessed that finding a way to have my yoga mat set up would lead to this experience. I’m so glad it did. As hard as it was to let go of that past it was touching to know he made a difference. Not surprising but for sure it gave my heart a warm glow.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | October 24, 2024

How Did I Get Here?

How did I get here? How have I done this? As I journal these days and count down to the upcoming anniversary of my beloved Doug’s passing I shake my head at how I got here. 11 1/2 months in it seems surreal that I am still here. Still here when Doug is not. Still here, in the home he helped build on the beautiful waterfront he loved. Still here moving his things around in the garage, sorting clothes to finally donate and today, with sun warming me through the windows, making decisions about what photographs to keep and what can be let go.

I kept asking myself these past few days how I got here because there were so many days when I wanted out. I had plans to leave this suffering behind and reunite with the love of my life, my person, the person who adored me. How did I not give in and give up? It seems like such a long unimaginable length of time since I held his hand for the last time that it must really have only been days.

In the middle of the wondering came the awareness that was undeniably true. I am still here because I have been loved and supported beyond anything I could have ever imagined. From the first day I was surrounded by family and friends who kept watch and cared for me. Day after day people showed up to do things for me and to listen. And when the initial shock morphed into weeks of learning to live alone without the responsibility of Doug’s care and with no direction for myself, they still stood by me.

I’ve heard so many people talk about being paralyzed with grief that they didn’t accomplish anything for months and years. Others wept as they shared the depth of loneliness when they had no one to comfort them. Even though there were painful days when I was alone and felt an emptiness that was truly unbearable I still found someone I could call or text or email. It didn’t always come as quickly or as strongly as I would have liked but there was no denying that I was only an ‘ask’ away from help. And that’s why I got things done and that’s how I got here.

People tell me I’m doing so well and they are inspired by my courage and determination. They say this even though they know at any moment I could collapse under the sadness of missing my Doug. They have seen me cry through an entire grocery shopping outing, at the post office, at family dinners, riding my bike or walking along the road Doug and I loved. They say this whether or not they know that I am ‘doing so well’ because I have unlimited resources in the people who are ready to give me what I need.

11 1/2 months later these kind and generous souls celebrate with me when I am happy and funny and asking about their lives. They hold me when a memory brings tears to my eyes. They are chatty and carefree with me when we greet each other and they are quiet and solemn on what has become rare occasions when I have hit a bump.

That is unmistakably how I have made it this far. Doug would be so proud of us all for what we have done together to navigate this unwanted path. My gratitude is sincere and reaches the corners of my thoughtful community to people and places in far away lands. Oh, to be so loved that even the most suffocating of grief could be managed is a gift I will cherish the rest of my life. Thank you.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | October 3, 2024

Stop Complaining

The waves are roaring loudly. I’m steeped in gratitude. Feeling the feelings. Cleaning up computer files. And then I stumbled on this. Filed away to be revisited when needed. Today it works.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | September 25, 2024

The Body Remembers

I’ve read many books over the years about how our bodies and cell tissues store our experiences. What I didn’t expect was to witness it play out these past few days.

This is the time last year when Doug began treatment for the new diagnosis of MDS Leukemia. It brought on a whole new intensity of appointments, consultations, treatments, scheduling, anxiety and fear. We both worked hard at keeping a positive outlook and doing everything we could to find a glimmer of normal in our now completely upended lives. These weeks leading up to his passing November 12th were all consuming and physically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. Every aspect of our lives were impacted in challenging ways.

Over the past few weeks I’ve reflected on how I wanted to approach this time. At first, I reached out for comfort and encouragement from others. Then, after a wonderful vacation with friends and family I decided to focus on healing and not talk about the pain and suffering we endured. It seemed like a good plan and I was managing. Until I wasn’t. Suddenly, without any particular trigger or reason huge tears would roll down my cheeks. After two days of gulping down my grief I realized that even if I was moving along and making life livable again, my body remembered.

My body remembered the long hours on the road and sleepless nights caring for his needs. My body remembered lifting wheelchairs and walkers into the car and carrying boxes of liquid nutrition and supplies. My body remembered being on alert for choking, fainting and emergency trips to the hospital. My body remembered the disordered eating while travelling and racing from one urgent situation to the next. And my body remembered holding Doug’s hand through painful injections and moments of awareness that we couldn’t even talk about.

So as much as I thought I could reframe these hard days and weeks, my body remembers what we lived through not that long ago. And so it is that as my family visits I let myself sob and recount the worst days of my life so that my body is acknowledged for all it went through. It is a gift to my healing that I don’t cover up the reality or shrug off the memories that sometimes ignite a flood of tears. I will do what I can to treat my body, mind and spirit kindly as I give grief the space it needs to be honoured.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | August 17, 2024

What If?

What if the meaning and purpose and reason for living is waiting for the right moment to be revealed? What if all the wondering why I am still here is unnecessary? Can I embrace what I’ve said many times to others that the magic, the miracle is coming? Be patient. Stay awake.

And Caroline Myss would say ‘give up your need to know’. But I am hungry for knowing. I want to know with all my heart why I am still waking up and going through my days and doing things I need to do and procrastinating on things I can shrug off because there is no one holding me accountable. I serve a purpose to others by hosting family and acknowledging struggles and having visits and keeping the free library tidy, etc. etc.

But what about serving a purpose for my soul, my longing to feel a deep sense of ‘this is why I am on this planet at this time in my life.’ I hate that I don’t know and can’t feel a reason to keep going. But I also know, and I hate this too, that I may be doing more to serve myself and others than I know because I’m so distracted by grieving Doug and struggling to keep the raw, painful emotions from taking over every conversation or visit with kind and caring friends. And I’m not looking for a grandiose way to make a difference. Doug would tell me, and still does in a spiritual way, to slow down. Slow Down! I am a teacher of ‘take a pause, breathe, listen, be still’. And I have never in my life had to work so hard at slowing down and pausing.

It is exhausting to try and keep ahead of the sadness and because I rarely censor myself, I let the emotions run wild so that the tears don’t build up and rust out my insides. Maybe my greatest fear is that this way of expressing myself will never end and the beautiful souls who offer me comfort in my most desperate moments will someday say ‘enough already’.

Every now and then someone kindly points me towards gratitude as if I had never thought of it. It is always on my mind and in fact the enormous gratitude I feel for where I live, the ease of life, and the stunning amount of love and support that I get can evoke even more despair as I try desperately to let these blessings be enough.

Awake long before sunrise today I wandered the empty rooms of my home listening for Doug’s breathing or shuffling slippers or even the sound of the sports channel on his tv. I cleaned out a closet and wiped a few baseboards and finally got back into bed to watch the blazing sun climb up over the tree tops. I’ll get showered and dressed and head to the city to meet my son and daughter-in-law for lunch. I’ll do a little shopping before I return to more tidying and meditating and whatever else shows up.

And all the while I will keep my heart open as best I can to listen for the whispers from the universe. If spirit has something to say to me today I ask that you speak loud and clear so I cannot miss it. My dear friend Jennifer H. shared a prayer with me long ago: “God, lead me where you need me and speak to me in ways I can’t possibly misunderstand.” That feels like a good place to start this morning.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | August 15, 2024

Being My Own Champion

On a regular Thursday night last month I was sitting on our porch swing with my laptop in front of an incredibly calm lake. And calm is how I was feeling inside along with a healthy dose of pride. It was a day that signaled another big step in my healing and what I noticed more than the decisions I made and actions I took is how I was reflecting.

I laid off my handyman who had been faithfully coming every Tuesday to help me get little and big jobs done. I decided I wanted to open my summer days to being more spontaneous and relaxed as I welcomed family and friends who have booked up my calendar. It was a hard decision and he was gracious in assuring me that he would come back anytime. I wanted to make sure we were still on good terms. Then I had a resourceful store owner repair a little power washer so I could do small clean up jobs myself. He is an excellent problem solver and I was thrilled that he would take the time to help me just as he had done for Doug in the past. I brought it home, figured out how to use the adjustable wrench to get the hose attached and then did a little spraying. It worked perfectly and I felt so good to be able to make this happen.

Right away I got on the phone and told the friend who has been guiding me through the power washing process. He was duly impressed and gave me more pointers. I then called one of my closest friends who picks me up when I stumble and she listened curiously. I texted another friend who knew I was trying to resolve this and I texted our daughter to give her some ‘good news’ for a change. And then in an effort to keep the momentum going I rode my bike to friends’ place and shared with them. Everyone acknowledged my success and confirmed that Doug would have been equally proud of me.

Riding back home I cried big tears. The truth was that I was desperate to hear Doug’s voice and words of praise and no matter how many people I told, it would never be enough. Only he would have known how much this meant to me to be able to handle something he would have taken for granted. Only he would have known what it took for me to ask for help (again) with something I felt so uncertain about.

The hard reality is that he isn’t here to give me a hug and celebrate my success with me. Somehow I would have to do it for myself. All the messages I shared in retreats about being our own champion, our own best friend, our own cheerleader, came rushing back to me. Did I mean it then? Of course. And I still do. I’m just fumbling my way from the abstract beliefs to concrete real life.

Maybe that’s what we all do. Maybe our core values and beliefs pop up at unexpected turns and we are confronted with a choice to think and act accordingly or slip into some pattern that challenges what we say is meaningful to us. Maybe this is what living consciously is all about – showing up with integrity.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | August 14, 2024

Holding Hands Through Life and Grief

And life goes on. Not the way I want it to and still, in some odd rhythm it feels as normal as normal can be in between the shock of Doug’s loss. I am swimming with kids in the lake and laughing at their giggles and silliness on blow up toys. I am kayaking to greet the sunrise with my brother and sister-in-law giving them a glimpse of the beauty that hangs in the sky when the full moon is still jostling for space as the sun bursts forth. I am riding my new ebike distances I never imagined I would go on two wheels and loving the feel of the ride. I am hiking through the woods and going to the Sweet Shop … again! I am taking a video of tiny ducks diving in a frenzy along the shoreline under the watchful eye of a mother with too many offspring to reasonably keep track of. I am refilling the free library with books for all ages. I am cuddling babies, eating more s’mores than I want to, doing laundry, paddling with youngsters, hiking the trails, and enjoying summer on the lake.

And missing Doug. Missing our two boats in the lake and the channel markers he put out every year. I’m missing our slow trips down the bay in the evening and boating in the ‘big’ water on calm days. I am missing sitting on the dock with him playing in the Cornhole tournament. And I am really missing having him help me make decisions and figure things out. Things like getting a coffee stain out of a new beige rug or which branches to trim away from the deck. I am missing having someone to worry with, to debate with, to negotiate with and to listen to for wise counsel.

I had a long heartfelt visit with a returning cottager yesterday who lost his wife 3.5 years ago. The parallels in our grieving (not the way we grieve but what we grieve for) were a validation that this is what grief looks like. We shared how much we missed sitting around at the end of the day talking about stuff, and sometimes nothing in particular and sometimes not even talking. Just having our person with us.

And he also told me that the last time he saw Doug and I was after we visited him before he went home last fall. He said he saw us holding hands as we walked away and thought how sweet and amazing we were as a couple and he wished he had taken a photograph because it was such a perfect representation of who we were together. I wish he had too. Because I miss Doug’s hands SO much. The way he held mine, the way he rubbed my feet and the way he draped his arm and hand around my shoulder.

It’s always a shock when I suddenly fall into the grief chasm. I rarely see it coming because I am walking with grief all the time. It’s the dark pit that nearly suffocates me that is so distressing. Just when I think I am finding a balance it bullies me into a corner. And that’s what grief looks like.

So the next time you face someone grieving (which is probably way more often than you know) please remember that this could be the moment when their calm, focused, presence has been hijacked and what they say or do creeps out from under a heavy weight.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | July 26, 2024

Doug’s Birthday

With so many friends and family loving and supporting me I thought I would be prepared for Doug’s birthday this Sunday, July 28. How many times did he and I give his birthday when entering hospital and labs over the years. July 28, 1943 is stamped permanently in my brain. It is sometimes bittersweet.

And now, as the date approaches I have vivid memories of his 80th birthday celebrations last year. It started off with a few neighbours and grew into some family and friends nearby. Doug wanted a little gathering so we didn’t make any big announcements. He liked quoting Jack Benny and saying he was 39 so it became the 41st celebration of his 39th birthday. And then 70 people showed up. He was very humbled and grateful and at his best that day. Even though he couldn’t eat any of the delicious food his daughter and son-in-law prepared or drink to any of the toasts, he reveled in the stories and laughs and appreciation for our guests. I have all the pictures from that day to show what a wonderful tribute it was to Doug and his infectious smile is everywhere.

One year later, I am struggling to make meaning of my life without him. So I decided to send the following message to the people in my contact list:

“Hello everyone, Sunday will be Doug’s birthday and I am remembering how grateful and humbled he was last year to celebrate his 80th with friends and family. In his usual humorous way, he said it was actually the 41st anniversary of his 39th birthday! In memory of all he gave to us I’m inviting everyone who loved him to do a random act of kindness on Sunday. There are so many simple ways that we can bring joy or ease the suffering of someone else or just make people smile. I am betting that we can make a difference collectively in honour of someone who made such a difference in our lives. Thank you and may you be blessed with peace and love in your heart. Daryl.”

The response has been so much joy that people will get to once again, honour someone they loved, admired and cared about. Some people were able to join me for a memorial cruise on a tour boat in Tobermory in June. For them, and everyone else, and for anyone who knows the power of kindness, this is one more way, that Doug’s inspirational spirit lives on.

Yesterday I donated $81 worth of groceries (frugal shopping filled TWO large totes) to a Food Bank where we had volunteered years ago. I’ll be ramping up on Sunday to be the best representation of Doug’s beautiful heart wherever I go and hoping this eases the pain of his loss. May you spot kindness along your path today and always.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | June 24, 2024

32 Weeks

32 Weeks. Hours of reading, therapy, listening, counselling, coaching, supporting, guiding, acknowledging, empathizing, healing treatments, kindness, celebrations of life, hugging, story telling, focused learning, searching, growing, trying and crying. Lots of trying and crying. Still. I feel the shame welling up as I follow an impulse to judge myself at this juncture. I am reminded by news and sometimes well meaning people that I am better off than most in my grieving circumstances. I know. I am awake. I see the world around me. And it doesn’t take away the cruel aching for my beloved Doug.

All the study I have done these past 30 years has shaped who I am today and still, still it hasn’t fully equipped me for the heart stopping crashes that are inevitable with grief. Today the lake is calm for the first time in days and after torrential rains it is sunny and warm. Sitting on the dock I couldn’t shake the sadness of knowing this would have been one of ‘our days’. Load the boat for a trip around Lake Huron and Georgian Bay. The preparation and anticipation and then the moment when we leave our bay and he opens up the motor into the big water. I can feel it and hear it as clearly as the last time almost a year ago. We grin at each other like little kids on a wild adventure.

I cautiously tell people I’m getting along okay. It’s obvious to my friends and neighbours as they comment on how much better I am, more engaged, less tears, getting so much done, doing hard things, more grounded, etc. And I am. Until that moment when I suddenly realize that keeping his shoes at the door, his hat and jeans on the hook, his wallet and watch on standby doesn’t change the outcome. He is not coming home. Ever. How can this be real?

So I will hang the sheets on the line, head south to my dental appointment, drop off homemade cookies to the mechanic who solved a minor problem at no charge and eventually come back home to try and make something meaningful of a day that feels empty of meaning.

I am blessed for sure with good people and generous love. I hope someday this will be enough to overcome the heavy longing in my heart.

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Posted by: Ms. Daryl Wood | May 21, 2024

Being Brave

Yesterday, after a long emotional visit my kind friend texted me that I am the bravest woman she knows. She went on to acknowledge my honesty and presence to my emotions and pure authenticity. I so appreciated the genuineness of her message and how it validated some of what I’m feeling because being brave has become essential so many times before and since my beloved Doug died. This morning I am wondering who that woman is that she sees so much bravery in.

Waking up in the middle of the night with my usual intense night sweat I waited to fall back asleep. Instead I went over and over in my mind the decisions I’ve made for the rest of the week. This minutiae of life that we all face on a daily basis that can be amplified when we don’t take the steps to turn off our busy thinking minds. After a few hours of ruminating and dozing I lay wide awake as dawn emerged. And then it hit me – Doug is not here and he is never ever going to be here again. Any signs of bravery evaporated as my courage and willingness to live were lost in the despair of what life looks like now.

The most well meaning people – and that’s just about everybody I know – encourage me to be grateful for the wonderful years Doug and I had, the memories we made, the friends we accumulated who are at my side the moment I ask for help. And they remind me that I’m better off than most people grieving or suffering. With the best possible intentions they highlight the progress I’ve made these past 27 1/2 weeks. And I have made significant progress. I’ve done things I never imagined having to do. I’ve done things I’ve been wanting to do. I’ve listened and learned and challenged beliefs and found comfort in places and people I didn’t expect. I’ve lost people and things that really mattered and I’m still here.

The paradox is of course that I am holding two realities at the same time. There is the beauty, peacefulness and nurturing of my physical surroundings and the power of awareness that I am well loved. And then there is also the harshness that in the midst of all of this I am aching for the touch, the sound, the smell and the feeling of having Doug at the side.

Maybe the bravery is in my willingness to look at both and know that whether I like it or not (and obviously this morning I don’t like it) this is the truth of my life now. The bravery is sometimes overshadowed by the confusing lack of confidence I feel at simple things like what to take to a friend’s for lunch. But it is still there when I hear Doug whispering “just do it”. That’s what he did over and over and over again. Long before cancer robbed him of life’s pleasures he was someone who didn’t give up. He did the next thing that had to be done and I was always afraid he would scold me for my hesitancy. He didn’t. He taught through example what real bravery was.

These past few weeks I haven’t felt a strong enough urge to write and I said I would only write when I felt compelled to do so. Today I felt compelled to say out loud, through my words, the heartbreak that sometimes comes with being brave. And I am brave.

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