"WOO HOO what a ride"

Two Saturdays. Two memorials. I suppose that’s what happens as one ages.The first memorial was for a woman, the mother of a friend, who lived for over 100 years. At the gathering we heard of her early years, her move to Canada as a war bride, of her children, and her friendships, both long and short term. We were in a quiet backyard with fruit trees in blossom and each person who spoke was accompanied by bird song. The clouds lurked and eventually when the rain started we moved indoors. We walked with friends through the rain to their home where we had left our car and  then drove home to carry on with our normal weekend tasks.

Today was another memorial celebration, this one in Fish Creek Park. We were greeted on the porch steps of The Ranche Restaurant by a life-sized photograph of Isabelle. wearing an outlandish costume and a huge grin. Inside there were more photos of her, many from year-end vocal recitals in which she often sang songs that brought delight and laughter to her audience.The story goes that she began to take voice lessons so she could sing to her grandchildren. Members of her family spoke while a slideshow of photos, and quotations ran in the background. I learned that she kept a book in which she wrote quotations that were important to her. I  keep a book like that too.

She loved books and instead of a standard guest book we were invited to write in a children's picture book that belonged to her. Another of her books made an appearance when two of her children read this passage from Embers by Richard Wagamese:

“Me: I miss my mother sometimes. Really bad.

Old Woman: Maybe try missing her really well.

Me: How do I do that?

Old Woman: See that sunrise? See how beautiful the colours are? How clear and clean the air feels? How good it feels inside of you?

Me: Yes it’s wonderful.

Old Woman: She lives in that. So maybe just say “Thanks, Mom” when you see and feel things like that

***

I miss my mother really well now.”


After the stories, there was food and music, so much varied music, one instrument after another, an accordion, a harp, a singer, a cellist, all offering songs Isabelle liked. The last song ‘What a Wonderful World’ was one she always wanted to sing but could never make it past the first couple of lines without tears spilling from her eyes.

We left after the music died away and walked west along the pathway instead of returning to our car. We saw a sign for ice cream and decided there was no better way to honour her than to walk down the path eating ice cream until it was gone. As we walked, the words by Christie Beam, quoted in the slideshow ran through my mind. “Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive, well-preserved body, but rather a skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand and a martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally warn out, and screaming ‘WOO HOO what a ride.”

Our ice cream finished, we turned back to the car on our way home to resume our usual weekend routines. Later when the bird was fed and put to bed and the dishes were done we were about to go into our individual studies as we so often do in the evening. Still thinking about Isabelle, I suggested we pull out the Solo Stove and have a fire. We sat on the deck as the sun set, robins and crows called and the police helicopter made its rounds overhead. We waited until the sun was gone, the wood burned to a few embers, and the decorative lights draped around the deck came on before coming inside.

It is so easy for me to do what I have always done rather than making the effort to do something different. I’m glad we sat by the fire tonight. Tomorrow I’m going to start going through wood in the shop and putting it in a burn bin so the next time we think of a fire it will be easier to find wood. It will also provide me with an incentive to clear out some of the wood since I have more than I will ever use. It’s a small step but one that adds to the momentum so I can be one of the ones skidding in yelling ‘WOO HOO what a ride.’