To Lovern and Carol

The day after your birthday; maybe you're a little hungover, a little more tired than usual from a late night, but generally feeling grateful for all of the birthday wishes and gifts (and of course cake.) On March 7th, 2017, the day after my birthday, I woke up to make coffee and received a call from my mother. "I just got a call from the Fort Francis police, something's happened to Grandma and Grandpa."

Immediately I think heart-attack. But wait, both of them? It just wasn't adding up, but at that time we didn't have any more information. A few hours later my mom phoned again in hysterics.

"It was their neighbour. The police think it may have been a break-and-enter gone wrong." "Slow down, details Mom," I plead. "They were stabbed to death. In their home, in the night, by their neighbour, the man who used to shovel their driveway and mow their lawn." She explained.

I felt nothing. I felt.... completely drained of blood. Frozen. I had just spoken to them yesterday. They were two of the first people to call, as always, on the morning of my birth. We had talked about their upcoming trip; Alberta to see my cousins, Kamloops to see my mom and sister, and then over to the Island to see me. How could they be gone? How did this happen?

My grandparents were not old. Their lives were taken at 66 and 77. They had so much life left to live, so much love left to give. I now know the details of their deaths; where they were in their home when it all came crashing down. How my grandma locked herself in the bathroom for protection, how my grandpa couldn't save her. Their neighbour broke into their home and stabbed them to death, we still don't know the motive. He's claiming insanity.

For me, the grief hits out of nowhere. A song, or a smell, that's all it takes. A look, a word, that's all it takes to bring me right back to that moment. That phone call. The utter disbelief. And then I feel guilty. Guilty because I haven't thought of them in a while. Guilty because I didn't call enough. Guilty because I was too wrapped up in my own life, shrugging off phone calls or cutting them short. To me, grief is like the tide...sucking you away from shore, and when it's time smashing you back up onto the rocks.

To Lovern and Carol; How's the beer up there? In case you didn't know, Mom has been carting you around all over the globe. She just emailed our family to let us know you've now been to Bonaire, Bogota, Peru, and Mexico. You cycled 55 kilometres through the Sacred Valley, went white water rafting, and hiked 4 days along the Inca Trail. You were at the top of Machu Picchu! You were sprinkled into the ocean a few days ago, and under our favourite trees at the property in Mexico. I hope you didn't suffer for too long. I hope you knew how much we all loved you. Please know how much we all miss you.