Halavah Cakes

Our dear friends and family have blanketed us with love and support. I know they are concerned, but, we will get through this and carry on with our lives. One of the reasons we'll be successful is because of the support we've received from so many. This blog has surprised me, I write it because it's cathartic, putting my thoughts down helps me understand what I'm feeling, but now, I'm also writing because of the overwhelming response I've received. So many of you, complete strangers have felt compelled to send me messages on Facebook sharing your own stories of loss offering advise and support, letting me know that we are not alone. There is a poignant beauty to these messages their undertone of sadness with their offer of healing and I am listening.

Surprisingly, in spite of everything, we can still enjoy and appreciate the efforts of the people around us. While in Israel Lex and I discovered a cake, a Bubkah baked with chocolate and halavah and it quickly became a favorite of ours. Alana our wonderful cousin, wanted to visit us in Tel Aviv, so, she arranged to lead a Birthright Trip to Israel, when Lex died, she was already enroute, unable to replace herself. Her sister Elise knew we loved the halavah cakes from the Brasserie Restaurant/Bakery so they conspired to bring a few home. They purchased 20 cakes and each one was carried by a young adult from the trip. I have this image in my mind of these cakes being taken through customs and I can't help smiling at the thought. Sometimes it's the little things that have the biggest impact a beautiful gesture, transporting 20 cakes 5800 miles to my front door, teaches me that in spite of my grief I can still smile, a first step towards healing.

Triggers

I'm beginning to venture out more now. Lunch with friends, grocery shopping, errands. Leaving the safety of my home is tricky, while being at home is difficult because of all the memories my daily routines keep me busy and I feel safe there, it's when I go out that stirs up my emotions. I leave the radio off when I drive, every song seems to be about loss, the lyrics bring tears to my eyes as I relate my loss to the story of the song. At the grocery store I walk up and down the aisles picking up items we need, I see cereal 'oh I think Lex will want that'....or fruit she was a big fruit eater, mushrooms she loved mushrooms every type, sauces she was always looking for different sauces to experiment with. I drive down the street and I see where she used to work, and it goes on and on, so many triggers. I am only now beginning to realize what a huge part of my life she was/is, as much as she needed me I also needed her, we spent a great deal of time together over the last 6 1/2 years but although there were a lot of medical appointments we also explored the city together, went out for lunches, shopped, wandered along Queen St. or Eglinton Ave. discovering cafes or interesting boutiques, now, when I see these places I feel such a loss, I have not only lost a daughter I've lost a friend, someone I'd bounce ideas off of, someone who pushed me to try new things, someone I loved spending time with, someone irreplaceable.

Silence

Noise everywhere, T.V.'s on, phones are ringing, furnace is humming, people are talking, the dog is barking and all I hear is the silence. I feel sad today and yet I enjoyed breakfast with my wonderful friend Sandy and later coffee with Janice and Donna who both had me laughing with their stories, I worked on a painting cooked dinner and went to Shul. It really was a good day, but all I can feel is this.....silence. Behind all the noise and activity there is a voice that is missing, a voice that would join in the discussion about planning dinner or needing the car, a voice that would be laughing at something her friends said or would be organizing everyone's weekend. It is this voice that's missing that is now silent, it is this voice that I am listening for, that I can no longer hear, it is this voice that I miss. Sometimes during a conversation I find myself drifting, a random memory will unexpectedly creep up on me, they completely distract me, everyone will be talking and I can't hear them I'm lost in thought and silent listening for her voice trying to hear her.

What Would Lex Do? (WWLD)

We have a new phrase in our house 'What Would Lex Do?' When I don't feel like eating I ask myself WWLD? If I don't feel like getting dressed or going out I ask WWLD? Ricks birthday is today, a tough one, so I asked myself WWLD? The answer to this question is always push, the easy route would be to wallow, stay home maybe not get dressed mope around allow this incredible sadness and pain to eat at us until we could not function at all, but, WWLD? So we eat, get dressed, go out, and we will celebrate Rick's birthday with close family and cherished friends, I think Lex would approve. I do not want to dishonour Lex's memory by ignoring the example that she set, that we set for each other. Lex continued to find enjoyment to take pleasure from her life everyday, the smallest things could put a smile on her face, sharing with friends on skype or facebook, an 'Iced Aroma Lite', a good movie, a cup of 'Read my Lips' herbel tea, a 'pass and play' game of scrabble with me which she always won, or a crazy wild storm outside her window. Lex pushed hard, and by pushing she lived well. So we will use her example, her legacy and push through the pain, push hard, because that's what Lex would want us to do, that's what Lex would do.

Trying to be Invisible

Lex was a very special girl, she was 'lit from within' there was a special glow about her. Her smile could light up a room and her upbeat personality was always in demand, people liked her. In school Lex was a good student but I used to say that if grades were given out for social skills Lex would have gotten an A++. During the 6 1/2 years she was sick she managed to accomplish alot getting her Human Resources degree, travelling extensively, working. She also had some very special relationships, her life was full, happy, bright. She pushed cancer into the background and living into the foreground and managed to convince everyone around her that she was a normal healthy young woman, who sometimes needed chemotherapy, or medical care for some side effect caused by the drugs. Cancer was an inconvenience to her and that's how she treated it, in fact most of her friends will tell you that they almost forgot that she had cancer at all, even when she was in hospital the atmosphere in her room was always upbeat and positive, with everyone waiting for this silly little illness to go away so she could get on with her life. When she died the shock-wave was palpable no one and I mean no one ever thought she would die, she had us all convinced that if anyone could beat it she could, and sadly she almost did because in the end there was no cancer anymore just a damaged liver.

Tomorrow is 2 weeks, 2 weeks! Where is the time going? Today I got dressed and put on make-up for the first time since she died. Dani, Elise and I went to Vaughan Mills to wander around for a couple of hours it was the perfect choice because it's so quiet there and no one knew us. I find myself avoiding all my usual haunts I don't want to run into anyone I know, I don't want people I don't know to recognise me I'm not ready, not yet. My hairdresser, my gym, my butcher, my manicurist, I'm avoiding them all, I'm worried about being bombarded with questions I don't want to answer, worried about the emotions I won't be able to control. I don't want to talk at all, I don't want to be noticed, I want to be invisible, so I'll be shopping, dining and running errands anonymously at the other end of the city for the next while, until I'm ready.

Trying to Find Solid Ground after Lex's Shiva

Tomorrow we get up from Shiva. Then it will be Monday, I'm dreading Monday, I'm scared. I know that our family and friends will try to comfort us a little longer but eventually everyone gets on with their lives and then we will be alone. That's when the thinking and remembering will start in earnest and so I'm scared, I'm scared of the depth of grieving I know I haven't even scratched the surface. I'm haunted by the memories of Lex's last days little things like not eating, nose bleeds, the feeling of no control over her body I wonder did she know? Somehow sense what we now realize was happening? There was a nightmare 3 days before she died when I asked her if she wanted to talk about it all she would say was, 'I had a nightmare about...well, you know' I didn't push her, should I have? I know that Lex would have talked about it if she had wanted to, she didn't want to. I promised her we would live our lives well, but, how do you do that? Wherever I turn I'm confronted by reminders of what we have lost, Lex lived large she is everywhere. I really don't feel like I'm on solid ground my world has shifted and I feel lost and unsure of how to find my way home somebody give me a pair of ruby slippers so I can click my heals together I want to go home.

Life Goes On-Lyat Lyat

There is so much to say, so much has happened, so much. I find that by writing I am able to organize my thoughts and it helps me make sense out of all this. Whether you read or not is not important, this is for me, it helps. The passing of my beautiful daughter last week has left a hole so huge we will never be able to fill it up. But her legacy, her legacy is beyond my wildest imaginings I feel as though the entire community is in mourning with us, she truly became a child of the city. By living in Israel we were isolated from the goings-ons in Toronto and of course my focus was on Lex we would hear inklings but because we were so far away they really didn't resonate. So all this attention is quite startling and humbling. We are not an attention seeking people, my husband, daughter and I lead-led quiet lives, Lex's illness forced us to seek the communities help in a manner totally alien to us. We are an ordinary family who did an extraordinary thing so extraordinary that I have trouble realizing all that transpired. But I do know that Alexis was given a gift. Because of the help we received Lex was able to live out a little fantasy she pushed the reason for our going to Israel to the background and pretended that this was an adventure, we both felt a little like Mary Tyler Moore throwing up her hat in Minniapolis excited about what the future held, as you know this would not have been possible in Toronto. So as painful as all this is my last memories of my daughter will always be her delight at living in our little apartment on Arlozorov, trying to learn hebrew, smiling and laughing with her friends and for that I will always be grateful.