When we were in Vancouver recently we scattered my mother’s ashes in the ocean around Lumberman’s Arch in Stanley Park. It was just the three of us but it felt good to say goodbye in a little more formal way even though my mother didn’t want a service.
Our family has many happy memories of picnics at Lumberman’s Arch and enjoying the beaches of Stanley Park and English Bay. My parents and Jim and I all grew up in Vancouver and Richard has become a real Vancouverite so we all share this love of the city.
I remember my mother telling me that she often went to English Bay and Stanley Park as a young child with neighbourhood friends and they always spent the nickel they were given for return busfare on chips and told the bus driver they “lost it in the sand”. I’m sure he was very used to these poor ruffians and their excuses for having no money to get home! A nickel was a lot in those days and chips at the beach was a real treat I’m sure.
I wrote a letter to my mom at Christmas the year after my father died and I would like to share this now as I was thinking about all these things at Lumberman’s Arch and today.
My Mom about age 20
Christmas, 1996
Dear Mom,
I think we both approach this Christmas with mixed feelings of sadness and gratefulness. Sadness, because we lost Dad a year ago but also gratefulness, because he lived a good life and was fit enough to the end to be able to drive and live independently. We know how difficult it would have been for him not to be able to do these things.
Something that helped me through that difficult time last year was realizing you and Dad still kept and treasured that old letter I wrote the year Jim and I got married. The fact that I referred to your 27th year of marriage and that Jim and I were now celebrating our 27th year of marriage helped me accept and appreciate the cycles of life of which death is a part. Also, it’s all the happy memories I have of you and Dad and our family life together that have made this past year easier.
I think the first memory I have is the big tractor tires that Dad cut in half and that we used to sail our boats in. I just remember hearing about all the steering wheels under the porch for our friends but it sounds just like Dad to want to make sure every kid on the block could drive their own car even if it was just pretend!
Our backyard with the big tires to sail our boats in.
Of all the gifts we received over the years it was the things you and Dad made, often out of scavenged materials, that meant the most to me. My favourite toy of all time was the “stove” made out of four butter boxes with jam lids painted black as cooking elements. That got me really interested in cooking and I remember you always letting me make a little pie or cookies in your oven since my “stove” didn’t have one.
And then there were the inner tube rafts that doubled as air mattresses when we first started camping and couldn’t afford air mattresses. We couldn’t afford sleeping bags either at first and you made some out of old blankets. The first year I think all we had was the tent, the coleman stove, and the cooler. You managed to cook the best meals on that old coleman.
The old Plymouth loaded up with camping gear.
Another toy I was very proud of was the little racing “bug” Dad made for me from an old railway tie. It just had kiddie car wheels and rope with a T-stick for steering, but I could keep up with the big boys on the block with real racing bugs and that was quite an accomplishment for “just a girl”.
Dad often came home from work on a warm evening and suggested we drive to White Rock to have a swim and eat our dinner. You were always such a good sport about packing up what was for dinner and cooking it on the Coleman stove on the beach.
And all the good times at Gabriola. I remember Dad buying that old row boat for five dollars that weighed a ton and Craig and I rowing back and forth all day in the rain the first week-end we had it. Remember our neighbours in Vancouver kidding Dad about having a whisky still up on Gabriola because of all the old wine barrels he brought up there? That was quite an ingenious system for getting “running” water.
I remember how we used to play poker in the evenings by the light of the coal oil lamps and you always pretended you didn’t really know how to play and usually prefaced laying down a Royal Flush by saying “I don’t really think I have anything”! Somehow you convinced Craig and I that those slimy things called oysters were really good to eat. And all the neat things like collages, tables, etc. you did with driftwood gave a real flair to the decorating of the Gabriola "shack".
Some of my Mom's driftwood treasures.
I chuckle thinking about Dad worrying about me. I remember the rope he brought over to our apartment that was on the fourth floor. He really needed to be assured that I would keep it under the bed so it would be there in case of fire. Then there were the warnings about driving under highway overpasses because he had heard about sudden flash floods where people had drowned, and warnings about being in parkades because people had been asphyxiated by fumes at rush hour when everyone was leaving at the same time. And of course...flying. Dad always thought I was on borrowed time when I was in the air!
Do you remember the fairy godmother outfit you made for me for a school play? I loved that almost as much as the bunny outfit you made for Halloween one year. I was particularly proud of my “magic” wand with a silver star on the end of it. I was a bit deflated when I overheard someone saying it looked like I was hammering the dickens out of Cinderella with it during the performance. I guess I was really trying to make sure those wishes came true!
My bunny suit.
I know I didn’t really appreciate that lovely doll and chest of beautiful handmade clothes that you won in a raffle, but I remember the neighbourhood girls enjoying playing with the doll while I cooked dinner on my “stove”. And I did enjoy all those books you bought us over the years. Reading remains one of my greatest pleasures.
Now knowing what it’s like to work and have children, I appreciate the time and interest you took in our school work and activities and the time you spent helping out at school and encouraging me to join various organizations. It expanded my circle of friends and experiences.
Life does work in funny ways. I must admit, at the time I wasn’t always thrilled that you spoke out and expressed yourself more forcefully than all of the other mothers of my friends. I’m proud now that you did things like get the union in at the hospital where you worked and were the first Shop Steward. You were ahead of your time in terms of women’s rights.
You always had an independent fighting spirit and this has helped you through this difficult first year of losing Dad and will continue to help you. I have that fighting spirit too and I’m proud to be your daughter.
Merry Christmas, Mom.
Love,
Janice
My mom, myself and Richard just before leaving for France this last February. Richard and I have fond memories of this last visit with my mom.
My Mom and Dad in 1988, Dad, 79 and Mom, 75
