September 28th, 2016
Today is a special day. It's my grandmother's birthday. She passed away at the age of 100 years ago but her birth date will always be significant. She was a strong woman, we called her "Mama Mafia" because she didn't mince words and she had a loud voice. She raised five children in the middle of the country without a car. She was content to cook and clean as long as she had her radio. She loved music. She sang and whistled along all day. Her life was simple but she had siblings and they liked to come over and play cards or bean bag toss and, talk, and laugh.
My grandfather was a hard working man. He took over his father's general store and made it successful. He was the epicentre of his community, providing quality meats and produce. People loved his polite manner and small town charm. My grandmother cooked his meals and starched his shirts but when he got home at night, he knew who was boss. She did the bookkeeping and made the important decisions.
I had great role models in my family. My mother was a hard worker. She had a great sense of humour and, although she was mostly quiet, she could stand up for what she believed in. Then there was my grandma. There was no political correctness. She wasn't saving up for retirement. She lived her life. She laughed out loud. She kicked up her feet when she laughed. She wore lipstick, curled her eyelashes and paired red high heels with her denim jeans. She whistled, despite my grandfather's belief that real women never did. She drank beer and played cards.
At Christmas, she filled the house with family, cooked up a storm without a sweat and sang for all of us while step dancing and playing the spoons on her lap. Oh, and let's not forget her harmonica, she was a one woman show. Even in her 90s, when she had sore legs, she still did her step dance with her high heels but she remained seated and moved her feet over a wooden board. It made the same clanking song that invigorated her singing.
She was festive and feisty. She either liked you or she didn't. Anytime you brought home a friend or, heaven forbid, a boyfriend, you never knew if she would approve. My husband won her over when he sang "Michelle ma Belle" to her. If he'd serenaded me, she would have said he was a show off but, he serenaded her, smart man. She loved him and called him, "Vincent with the dreamy eyes". She wasn't very affectionate but you knew she loved you. She would cook something special and double pack it in wax paper, covered with foil. She was always happy to see you.
I loved making her laugh. She would get a kick out of watching my grandfather laugh. I would joke around, his nostrils would start to flare and his belly would jiggle. She would look over at him and laugh as well. She was very adventurous and when she got too tired to get out, she wanted to hear all about the adventures of others. She loved Bob Barker and Lawrence Welk. I can still see her sitting on the edge of her chair, watching couples dance on stage. Her entire body willed her to get up and dance along.
I am so happy she was my grandmother. She was a blessing in my life. Happy Birthday Mama Mafia! I love you!
Anne Walsh
www.artnsoul.org
Showing posts with label remembering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label remembering. Show all posts
Wednesday, 28 September 2016
Monday, 27 June 2016
Jean Sebastien Charron
June 27th, 2016
On Saturday, I took my eldest daughter, Molly, to her dentist appointment. My mother was at home with my youngest so it was nice for us to have some time alone. As the dental hygienist was preparing the station for Molly's appointment, I noticed a tattoo on the back of her neck. It said 11:11. I asked her about the meaning of her tattoo. She said her grandma used to tell her to make a wish each time she saw 11:11 on the clock. Her grandma was very superstitious and after she passed away, the dental hygienist had that tattooed on the back of her neck.
I told her the story I have written about in a previous blog:
After my 17 year old cousin, Jean Sebastien, passed away, I saw 10:10 on clocks everywhere I went. I also heard the same songs we were listening to during our visit at his parents' house after his death-Hotel California and Stairway to Heaven. We had listened to a cd of Jean Sebastien trying to master these songs on the guitar and singing along. I asked my Godparents, his parents, if 10:10 had any significance. I was thinking maybe October 10th was an important date. They said it wasn't. From the moment I asked that question, I started to see 11:11 everywhere I went. I realized it wasn't the number itself, just the repetition. It became a symbol for me that I was not alone.
Whenever I had something important planned like my wedding, a surgery to have cysts removed from my ovaries or a court case (after we moved into this house and the lady who bought our old property sued our real estate agent and us because she wanted our furniture) it was always scheduled at 11 on the 11th. I didn't plan this. It just happened that way.
A week ago, I was sitting outside with my family eating a delicious BBQ supper on the deck. After supper, my youngest daughter, Stella, was eating dessert. The others had gone in but I sat next to her. She looked over to the right side of the yard, passed me. She smiled and waved. I asked her who she was waving at. She said: "An angel". I asked her if the angel had waved at her. She replied: "No, the angels don't have bodies. They are like moons. They glow and they're blurry." I sat there, silent, taking in this information. Stella added: "I see them all the time" in a no big deal tone of voice.
After Molly's dentist appointment, I came home and told my mother about the 11:11 tattoo. She told me that day, June 25th, was the 25th anniversary of the accident that took my cousin's life. All the hairs stood up on my body. Was that his way of saying hello and reminding me of this anniversary?
Jean Sebastien was 17 years old, riding his bicycle over to a friend's house when an older man who had already lost his licence for impaired driving hit him. He was hit so hard that his shoe was later retrieved from a nearby tree. His body had been flung from the bike. The drunk man didn't even stick around. He may have not even noticed he had killed someone. My Godparents never got to speak to their son again. He was brain dead after the impact. They sat by his bed at the hospital, holding his hands. His organs were harvested and he was taken off life support. A family and an entire community had lost a soul.
I was never close to my cousin before this point. He lived five hours away and he always visited his mom's side of the family when they came to town so I didn't get to know him. As my entire family went to see my Godparents, I learned that Jean Sebastien planned to be a lawyer. He was involved in his community. He was a member of a local theatre group. He sat on a St-Jean Baptiste float just a day before the accident. I discovered that he had a great sense of humour and that he was learning to play guitar. He had several girlfriends and they all grieved together. He was popular. Lots of youth joined us for the ceremony. All I can remember from his funeral was that the priest kept getting his name wrong-really annoying.
After his death, my Godparents offered to help me pay for my studies. I was in university and relying on OSAP to help me cover student loans. Initially, I wondered if this was a goo idea. I was grateful for their offer but I didn't know them very well. I felt guilty that I would get the money they had set aside for their deceased son. We were staying in their home during our visit. That night, we slept in my cousin's bedroom. I was trying to complete some homework in an adjacent office space and the lights in the room kept flickering. The computer wouldn't work properly. I strongly felt a presence next to me and I was sitting in the dark. The only light came from my computer. I freaked out and told my mother about it. As we spoke, the night light in the bedroom flickered.
My life changed that day. I was able to graduate with a BA in Psychology four years later. My grades improved because I knew I could actually do this. I went on to get more degrees. Most of all, I felt like we were doing it together. I would see 10:10 or 11:11 on days when I had an important assignment, exam or presentation. I would hear Hotel California or Stairway to Heaven everywhere I went. I actually had a conversation with Jean Sebastien as I slept on the bus going to Montreal for my studies one day. In my dream, he was sitting next to me on the bus and we had a long conversation. I don't remember the content, just that he was there and we were enjoying each other's company. To this day, I mess up computers. Whenever I try to do anything with technology my energy or our combined energy makes the system go haywire. Every time I am alone, driving the convertible, enjoying the sensation of the wind whipping through my hair and music blasting from the speakers, I feel him sitting next to me, enjoying every minute of it.
I am so grateful to my Godparents who believed in me and invested in me at the most challenging time in their lives. Without them, I would have graduated with debt. I would never have pursued anything beyond my BA. Now, thanks to my education and the hard work that comes from believing that anything is possible, I have broken he cycle of poverty. I live comfortably with my family. My daughters have never been hungry or frightened that we couldn't afford our bills. They have warm coats, boots, hats and mitts in the winter and I get to work from home so I can enjoy our summers together.
I am learning to invest my money in order to generate more wealth for my later years and, to contribute to my community. My Godparents' generosity has inspired me to help others any time I can. I would not be the person I am today if I had not been supported by them.
Thank you Jean Charron!
Thank you Pierrette Rozon!
Thank you Jean Sebastien Charron!
Anne Walsh
www.artnsoul.org
On Saturday, I took my eldest daughter, Molly, to her dentist appointment. My mother was at home with my youngest so it was nice for us to have some time alone. As the dental hygienist was preparing the station for Molly's appointment, I noticed a tattoo on the back of her neck. It said 11:11. I asked her about the meaning of her tattoo. She said her grandma used to tell her to make a wish each time she saw 11:11 on the clock. Her grandma was very superstitious and after she passed away, the dental hygienist had that tattooed on the back of her neck.
I told her the story I have written about in a previous blog:
After my 17 year old cousin, Jean Sebastien, passed away, I saw 10:10 on clocks everywhere I went. I also heard the same songs we were listening to during our visit at his parents' house after his death-Hotel California and Stairway to Heaven. We had listened to a cd of Jean Sebastien trying to master these songs on the guitar and singing along. I asked my Godparents, his parents, if 10:10 had any significance. I was thinking maybe October 10th was an important date. They said it wasn't. From the moment I asked that question, I started to see 11:11 everywhere I went. I realized it wasn't the number itself, just the repetition. It became a symbol for me that I was not alone.
Whenever I had something important planned like my wedding, a surgery to have cysts removed from my ovaries or a court case (after we moved into this house and the lady who bought our old property sued our real estate agent and us because she wanted our furniture) it was always scheduled at 11 on the 11th. I didn't plan this. It just happened that way.
A week ago, I was sitting outside with my family eating a delicious BBQ supper on the deck. After supper, my youngest daughter, Stella, was eating dessert. The others had gone in but I sat next to her. She looked over to the right side of the yard, passed me. She smiled and waved. I asked her who she was waving at. She said: "An angel". I asked her if the angel had waved at her. She replied: "No, the angels don't have bodies. They are like moons. They glow and they're blurry." I sat there, silent, taking in this information. Stella added: "I see them all the time" in a no big deal tone of voice.
After Molly's dentist appointment, I came home and told my mother about the 11:11 tattoo. She told me that day, June 25th, was the 25th anniversary of the accident that took my cousin's life. All the hairs stood up on my body. Was that his way of saying hello and reminding me of this anniversary?
Jean Sebastien was 17 years old, riding his bicycle over to a friend's house when an older man who had already lost his licence for impaired driving hit him. He was hit so hard that his shoe was later retrieved from a nearby tree. His body had been flung from the bike. The drunk man didn't even stick around. He may have not even noticed he had killed someone. My Godparents never got to speak to their son again. He was brain dead after the impact. They sat by his bed at the hospital, holding his hands. His organs were harvested and he was taken off life support. A family and an entire community had lost a soul.
I was never close to my cousin before this point. He lived five hours away and he always visited his mom's side of the family when they came to town so I didn't get to know him. As my entire family went to see my Godparents, I learned that Jean Sebastien planned to be a lawyer. He was involved in his community. He was a member of a local theatre group. He sat on a St-Jean Baptiste float just a day before the accident. I discovered that he had a great sense of humour and that he was learning to play guitar. He had several girlfriends and they all grieved together. He was popular. Lots of youth joined us for the ceremony. All I can remember from his funeral was that the priest kept getting his name wrong-really annoying.
After his death, my Godparents offered to help me pay for my studies. I was in university and relying on OSAP to help me cover student loans. Initially, I wondered if this was a goo idea. I was grateful for their offer but I didn't know them very well. I felt guilty that I would get the money they had set aside for their deceased son. We were staying in their home during our visit. That night, we slept in my cousin's bedroom. I was trying to complete some homework in an adjacent office space and the lights in the room kept flickering. The computer wouldn't work properly. I strongly felt a presence next to me and I was sitting in the dark. The only light came from my computer. I freaked out and told my mother about it. As we spoke, the night light in the bedroom flickered.
My life changed that day. I was able to graduate with a BA in Psychology four years later. My grades improved because I knew I could actually do this. I went on to get more degrees. Most of all, I felt like we were doing it together. I would see 10:10 or 11:11 on days when I had an important assignment, exam or presentation. I would hear Hotel California or Stairway to Heaven everywhere I went. I actually had a conversation with Jean Sebastien as I slept on the bus going to Montreal for my studies one day. In my dream, he was sitting next to me on the bus and we had a long conversation. I don't remember the content, just that he was there and we were enjoying each other's company. To this day, I mess up computers. Whenever I try to do anything with technology my energy or our combined energy makes the system go haywire. Every time I am alone, driving the convertible, enjoying the sensation of the wind whipping through my hair and music blasting from the speakers, I feel him sitting next to me, enjoying every minute of it.
I am so grateful to my Godparents who believed in me and invested in me at the most challenging time in their lives. Without them, I would have graduated with debt. I would never have pursued anything beyond my BA. Now, thanks to my education and the hard work that comes from believing that anything is possible, I have broken he cycle of poverty. I live comfortably with my family. My daughters have never been hungry or frightened that we couldn't afford our bills. They have warm coats, boots, hats and mitts in the winter and I get to work from home so I can enjoy our summers together.
I am learning to invest my money in order to generate more wealth for my later years and, to contribute to my community. My Godparents' generosity has inspired me to help others any time I can. I would not be the person I am today if I had not been supported by them.
Thank you Jean Charron!
Thank you Pierrette Rozon!
Thank you Jean Sebastien Charron!
Anne Walsh
www.artnsoul.org
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