Silent Seniors

By Francine Van, Guest contributor 

I am one; I am alone. Days pass without conversation. The time weaves me into it.

I am enjoying more walks and inventing nature stories of the creatures that surround me.
I am really witnessing their habits with the changing seasons. I’m sure I experience
telepathic moments as we freeze and eyeball each other giving up the right of way in
passing on the path.

The winter is here and I bring shelled peanuts for the squirrels before their long slumber
ahead. Fatness is a must for this time of year. (I wonder if you can smell the peanuts in
my pocket or do you feel stuffed?) The spring fills their apartment tree homes with new
tenants as the birds swoop in and build their nests, but now they are barren.

Driving, I observe a squirrel on a high wire over a county road as I approach. I think —
don’t fall, don’t fall, just as it stumbles and dangles. Please don’t fall on my car. Don’t
clash with my car like the deer last week running out onto the road in a panic. (I watched
and watched to ensure you were able to dash away freely without limping.)

The seagulls left. Well most of them anyway. I watched their summer crowds around my
place playing what appeared to be a game of falling into the wind from the roof. Cleaned
my car of the drip every day knowing this is a routine of living at the lake. I loved their
sky dances in the morning sunrise and chatter at the beach. I still saw two seagulls at the
beach the other day. (Did you loose your sense of direction or did you decide to stay?)

I sat journalling next to a majestic taut heron at the beach one day this summer. We both
feasted on the peaceful lake view of the morning at the waters edge. (I wondered if you
were looking for your partner or pondering what was for breakfast?)

I miss some of my human people now, but nature is taking a new found place in my life.
Its true, we do tend to live a bit more reflective with age. And with that, we become
more creative. Oh the stories we can tell!

COMING HOME

By Francine Van, Guest Contributor

Watching old movies about the explorations of budding adults finding their way into that first apartment in a new city, I am reminded of the angsty joys of moving. The excitement of discovering unknown neighbourhoods while days changed in sync with our life journey reflect as a flying speeding zipline. Choices were made, perhaps glancing past the details of personal aspirations. Conversations were refreshingly about relationships and love, not scrutinizing our original goals. New meanings for home were created along the way.

I have finally realized my definition for home in this last chapter with the pandemic giving me time to sort through old dreams. I don’t want big luxury.  At long last, I made my final move to be near the water and a familiar beach town.  As my time here multiplies, I learned I now love the comforts of the mundane uneventful humdrum.

Knowing where the library is located with the repeated drive every time is appreciated. My favourite thrift store is just around the corner and I can find new old treasures there. I like the same parks and beach walks and still see something new by just looking around me. Look Up. Today I heard a woodpecker. Spring has sprung. I find cemetery walks to be remarkably peaceful. Simple joys begin with a unique sunrise sipping a warm coffee facing the window for my nature news. The birds are dancing. I can find change in things like rearranging my furniture seasonally or painting anything.

I wonder if the pandemic has changed my attitude, or is it age, or more likely both? This quest has taken me a lifetime …… and finally I believe I found my home.

Thanksgiving–Are We There Yet?

By Francine Van, Guest Contributor

I feel I have aged ten years in one! I lost my life last year and don’t quite know how to retrieve it.

Hope emerges watching society norms fall back into place with thoughts the pandemic world is falling behind us. My risk assessments are changing navigating simple chores without the dread. But not without new anxieties that I developed over the year. Driving. Mild depression. Food insecurities. Toilet paper hoarding. The safety our lives offered now feel unsure. Will I have hydro or water tomorrow? What else can go wrong?  Should I go out? Mindless chatter in my head overwhelms me, yet I have nothing left to say.

The golden years have browned and burnt a bit. The golden age I had navigated into a contented life is gone. Volunteerism stopped. Job stopped. Nothing is left as I knew it. I redecorated my little apartment into a comfy nest and now is the time I need to lean into finding new ideas on the outside if I want to resecure a promising future. Surviving, not thriving is not an option. I need more. I cannot settle for less than finding the joy factor.

Seniorhood was lucky depending on your perspective too. I was allowed to stay home for the year watching the world go by. Aloneness was safety but loneliness was not, when unconnected to anyone. Heartful stories of gratefulness to have experienced such intimate rich times with family and heartless stories of being overworked and exposed in scary frenzied times are being told. I sit here and wonder what the actual reality is out there and know it is time to restart my life and live, now vaccinated.

I always believed the universe will present what you are looking for. And just as I asked for new opportunity, I received an answer by mail. A notice from the Attorney General peaked my curiosity, and reading it I found I had been selected for jury duty. (What is that old saying …be careful what you wish for! hahahhaha)

Are we there yet? Thanksgiving in Canada.

2020 is closing…..

By Francine Van, Guest contributor 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have heard it was a year of no memories, but I have to disagree, well maybe !

It certainly has given some of us way too much time to ponder life and others no time at all. Essential workers have taken a whole new meaning. I am thankful for these strangers and I am grateful. If you are old enough to remember Jerry Seinfeld and his TV show, an episode entitled Festivus[i] explained airing of the grievances on December 23.  Check it out for a laugh. We are airing ours many days. I will wish you a Happy Festivus.

So, after that, I am left pondering where I wish I had been stuck this year. Watching an abundance of TV to pass time I found myself envying people’s homes as they televised from them. Beautiful backyards, patios and many lovely rooms I would have easily chosen to be stuck. It had me scrutinizing my small apartment with a keen eye of change. I could not move amidst a pandemic, but I could redecorate. I also took an interest in plants. I rearranged wanting my space to be comfortable for me rather than having the typical society living spaces. I do not need a dining room; I never eat there, but I wanted a space to paint, a new hobby. I even painted glass cabinet doors for a new look. Now how can I fill my windows with more greenery.

Now a retiree, home has been a curious question all my life. I am a bit of a nomad and move most years to new neighborhoods staying close to family and friends. I just needed a new view. Planted here amid a pandemic, I came to realize that home is actually the place where you truly enjoy being stuck with your stuff and “chosen” roommates if you have them.

We slowed this year. The earth healed a little. Pollution declined. Relationships grew, if only by phone. Looks became less important. Some shallowness of our lives fell away. Nature became the most desired place to be.

Hmmmm, yes new memories! Did we find an inspiring new reality after all?

We can hope for a ‘starry night’ as we welcome the New Year in 2021.

________________

[i] Happy Festivus! Five Must-Have Holiday Traditions for a Seinfeld Celebration

https://parade.com/629523/solanahawkenson/happy-festivus-five-must-have-holiday-traditions-for-a-seinfeld-celebration/

 

 

 

Dear Diary, just think about today

By Francine Van, Guest contributor 

the beating of a pandemic pulse …today ….. a senior witness

We are now months into our isolation and my last writing about the arrival of a pandemic. Interesting that some of us have disregarded the virus as non-existent or just a flu, and others have secluded and hunkered into shelter in place orders, like we are at war with our neighbours.

Simply, seniors, strong or vulnerable, have witnessed the best of times and the worst of times. We have a point of reference. We know balance must exist in all areas of life as we know it. Instructions today have changed often with an overload of misinformation, so I understand the confusion. I also understand the newness of this situation in the world. I grow angry and feel hopeless. Navigating life is a new challenge. I get it. There is no cure. There is no safe.

We are on our own now to choose. And so, I understand the Black Lives Matter movement. I know the protests and need for them. I hope for goodness of change.

But, the days continue with increasing numbers of deaths reported, no longer the story of a life. We are lulled.

When I look out my window I see the peace of nature. When I go for a walk we step away from each other when passing. A shrug replaces a smile.

I lost my mom not to the virus, but to the natural end of her lovely being. Residing in long term care, I believe she knew things around her had changed. Today, her life was no longer comfortable with the imposed pandemic rules. I think she was ready to exit in her 95^th year. I am glad she was never rushed.

Erasing a life seems our society norm. Return of her OHIP, passport, and closure of accounts has brought a sadness I never knew. Grief is different. A few boxes left on a table of a nursing home for me were her last possessions. Interesting what we keep till the end. My memory of her seems all I have left. Even if our society systems wish to expunge her existence, she forever lives in my heart. I will always remember standing at the end of her casket alone. I know others are also faced with this moment. These are our times.

Today I am reminded to treasure my day and let go of non-essential items that bring no joy.

Some days I watch movies and forget about the pandemic. I can do that. There is a record of society prior to now. It looks warm and strangers hug. I remember. Then I witness the news.

Today, I was driving and noticed a dead squirrel on the road; I cried. Another veil of sadness.

Projects and painting inside bring distraction and creativity. Contentment for a moment.

I go to the coffee garage on occasion to see my kids and stay socially distanced. My granddaughters watch me knowing we cannot hug. My daughter steps back as I hand over donuts. It is just a second of caution, but I notice. Today.

Fear emerges when I least expect it now. Has the grocery store become dangerous? Is there food?

Moments of joy surprise me. Healing brings a hug. I watch weddings and moments of love. I find myself emotional in a good way too and cry. A life after will come. Hope for tomorrow.

Today is History.

 

Belle de Nuit ..… the darkness of this moment

By Francine Van, Guest contributor 

The Belle de Nuit is my depiction of both the darkness of this moment and the reminder there can be beauty opening in the night, just like this flower.

Seniors are facing an isolation with the Coronavirus, aka COVID-19 pandemic as spring arrives. A time for exiting our households has been put on hold to reflect and pursue new creative connections. I loved the video of an Italian group on lockdown singing in the evening on their balconies. Although isolation is different from social distancing, and both are different from loneliness, we find ourselves balancing our life spirits in a new way. Our contributions, as the largest volunteer group has come to a halt and a staycation for many.

Perhaps social distancing just might be my new excuse, even for future invitations. Before I had these words in my vocabulary, there were times I enjoyed being alone to pursue a craft, have a nap, or watch a movie. My group of friends all enjoy not having to explain why we have declined invitations, so we are enjoying reaching out by email with our social distancing observations and projects. Spring cleaning has been discussed as an option only during commercials, although not a necessity knowing we are unlikely to have unexpected guests.

YouTube has become popular for finding walking on the spot exercises, meditations, and yoga stretches. I have also been instructed to turn on some music and dance. Just keep moving.

But seriously, I am hoping to start a connection with this blog. Perhaps a funny story you can submit to our comments, best practices, a kindness story, and/or how you are filling your time? I would love to hear about the changed lives of seniors like me at this precarious time.

I am seeking new ideas and will share mine too. Without symptoms, restrictions, and healthy, I take a walk daily. For a new view, look up. I will tell you what I saw later.

Reminiscing my younger days, we lived with these limited store hours, there were no fast food places, or even many restaurants. Time seemed more relaxing or is it just my perception? Is mother earth looking after herself as I hear stories of reduced pollution? I feel reminded to be mindful of what I eat and what products I use during the day. I sense lasting changes.

To the Couches!

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NOTE. Belle de Nuit (Lady of the Night or Beauty of the Night) earns it name from its flowers which open in the evening and close when touched by the morning sun. It is a tropical annual plant with origins in Latin America. The blooms are in a range of colours … yellow, white, pink, fuchsia, purple.