As a child I used to sing the song Daddy’s Hands by Holly Dunn a lot. I sang it so often that I was asked to sing it at my grandfather’s memorial service along with his favourite, One Day at a Time by Merle Haggard. I have always appreciated the lyrics because even as a child I understood their profound meaning.
The lyrics are as follows:
I remember Daddy’s folded silently in prayer and reaching out to hold me when I had a nightmare. you could read quite a story in those callouses and lines; years of work and worry have their mark behind.
I remember Daddy’s hands how they held my momma tight and patted my back for something done right. There are things that I forgotten that I loved about the man but I’ll always remember the love in Daddy’s hands.
Daddy’s hands were soft and kind when I was crying. Daddy’s hands were hard as steel when I’d done wrong. Daddy’s hands weren’t always gentle but I’ve come to understand there was always love in Daddy’s hands.
I remember Daddy’s hands working til they bled and sacrificed unselfishly just to keep us all fed. If I could do things over I’d live my life again and never take for granted the love in Daddy’s hands.
(From memory so they may not be completely accurate)
These are my daddy’s hands today. Once strong and invincible in my mind, now swollen and bruised. If you know my father at all, you understand how this song accurately portrays him.
He was always up to play board games, cards, or jump on the trampoline. I’m almost certain he still would if he could. He’s a big kid at heart but he was also a disciplinarian who would punish misbehaviour appropriately.
My dad has worked hard his whole life. He was an honest businessman and a phenomenal mechanic. He worked long hours. He always came home for dinner but often went back to work once dinner was put away.
The past couple months have been pretty hard on my father. His cancer rapidly spread causing pain, swelling, and all kinds of other horrible side effects. Yesterday he started immunotherapy to try to prevent further spread. Today is his last radiation treatment. He gets to ring the bell. Those same strong hands that held on to me after nightmares and now are bruised and swollen get to ring the bell in one small triumph.
I was having a rough day. I was not in the mood to talk to, look at, nor interact with other people in any way, shape, or form. I was wearing my sunglasses when it wasn’t all that bright out. I was quite clearly sporting a scowl.
I had to stop and put gasoline into Gustavo, my car pictured above, on my way to another busy day full of errands. I pulled up to the pump that was the furthest away from civilisation but didn’t block the diesel station. I kept my eyes on my car and the pump. My entire body language read “leave me alone, don’t talk to me”.
That’s when everything changed. A gentleman that was walking towards a utility truck parked at the other side of the lot stopped mid step, turned around, walked over to me and complimented my car. He told me how much he loved the colour and how cool it was. I loosened up, smiled, thanked him, and went back to the task at hand.
Now I’m minding my own business again; almost finished fuelling Gustavo. As I’m about to return the pump to it’s home, a different man parked at the next pump comes over to me. He told me that my car is his favourite colour then added how impressed he is that I can drive “a stick” because it’s a lost art. I thanked him and agreed.
By this time the scowl is gone. I’m smiling just standing there. All because strangers took the time out of their day to be kind to me. They had NO idea the impact their words made on me that morning.
We never know what someone else is going through. We don’t know their struggles nor their triumphs. Try to be kind to everyone. If you see something you like, whether it be clothes, a smile, or property, have the courage to tell the owner. It may just turn their day around.
Have you ever listened to a song that gains new meaning as life happens around you? There have been many for me.
Traci
When my sister died 6 years ago, Elton John’s Daniel took on a new meaning. I could understand what I could only imagine before. Lyrics somehow changed in my mind and now had feeling behind them.
Today If We Were Vampires by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit played while my iPhone was playing on shuffle. I’ve listened to that song a bunch of times. It was always a feel good song for me. Today, although still a beautiful song, it had so much more meaning behind it.
It opens with a man talking about seeing his bride in a “long flowing dress” with “light coming off of [her] skin”. The second verse talks about the what ifs of them being vampires and not having to worry about life ending. The chorus, however, had me in tears.
The chorus goes like this: “It’s knowing that this can’t go on forever Likely one of us will have to spend some days alone Maybe we’ll get forty years together But one day I’ll be gone Or one day you’ll be gone”
My parents have been married for 44 years. My father is dying of cancer. We don’t know how much longer we will have him with us. Today this song has a new meaning.
As life happens, music morphs in my life but it also helps me heal.
I saw my father cry last night. I saw him cry today too. He tried to hide it but I could tell. He knew I saw it. Some may think this is no big deal but they don’t know my father. He doesn’t want you to know he is sad or hurting. He feels that is his burden and you shouldn’t have to bear it with him. He’s wrong, though.
Cancer is horrible. What is someone to do? You get the option of trying to beat the unbeatable or enjoying what time you have left. How are you to know long that time will be?
My father was told if left untreated his stage 4 kidney cancer would give him 2-5 years. This coming June will be 2 years. He made the decision not to live out his final days sick, weak, and feeling like he is dying. He chose not to take chemo and have incapacitating surgery. He chose to feel healthy and alive for as long as he could. Unfortunately the cancer was much more aggressive than anticipated.
My father has always been the rock, the strong one, the sound mind. He’s been the role model for all and the man no one can compare to. He will stay that person. Even as cancer eats away at the strongest man I ever knew.
It does not matter what profession you are in, customer service matters. A simple smile can go a long way. The customer doesn’t know how busy or awful your day has been. They don’t know what hardships and pain you are going through. They have come to you for the service you provide and, at the very least, expect a courteous and quick transaction.
As a paramedic, customer service isn’t about giving a discount or a couple extra goodies at checkout. It’s about compassion and kindness in difficult times. It’s about a smile to comfort the unease of the situation. It’s about being the calm in the storm. Sometimes customer service is just about being present.
I have been fortune enough in my career to maintain the compassion needed to have customer service as a paramedic. Tonight, however, I was so appalled by the complete and utter LACK of even a hint of the desire to assist me and my husband at a local car dealership, I won’t return.
Image courtesy of michaels.com The sweater I wore to the dealership.
Tonight after my husband got home from work we drove to test drive a car at the dealership closest to our house. We slowly drove around the lot looking for a particular car that was showing as available on their website. We parked and went inside. We looked at all the cars in their showroom while clearly showing interest in one car. We opened the doors. We sat in the back seat. We sat in the driver’s seat. We discussed many different things about it within earshot of all the available sales reps. No one so much as smiled at us. Not even the receptionist.
The dealership closed at 8pm. We arrived around 5:30. Maybe that isn’t enough time to do an entire trade in and sell a car but you can get the ball rolling. You can certainly go for a test drive. As we left I anticipated maybe the manager would send someone our way. Nope. Not a soul acknowledged we were even there.
We left. We immediately drove to another dealership about 20 minutes away. In all honesty we weren’t looking to buy their brand new car. We found the same car used, one model year older (2019 instead of 2020), with less than 5,000 miles on it for 20% less but it is a two hour drive away. I wanted to test drive the local car to see if the two hour drive was even worth it.
We pulled into the second dealership and drove around the lot. We found the car we wanted. We parked. Before we even had the doors closed on our current car one of the sales reps, who just happened to be moving cars around the lot and was parked in the spot next to where we parked, asked if we needed help or are just looking. She was kind, approachable without being pushy and overbearing, and she was smiling while she talked. Y’all, she was kind and smiling. I cannot express how important that last part is.
We pointed to the car we were looking at. We talked about our current car and the previous cars we owned. We talked about different models and packages. We talked about what we liked about previous performance cars we’ve owned and why we don’t have them anymore. (Yes, I’m a girl and I know a LITTLE bit about cars and enjoy driving manual transmissions). She gave us the keys to look inside and let us start the car (it sounded so good!). Because the model we were looking at is considered a performance car, she said her manager doesn’t want people taking it for a test drive. As disappointed as I was, I understood. Not everyone can drive a stick shift and not everyone knows how to handle a performance car. Mileage matters to the people who want to buy this car. While we discussed coming back at a later date, she said “I’ll be right back”. Y’all, she came back with a dealer plate and let us take the car on a test drive!
Can I tell you, I want that car. Not the one that’s two hours away and the colour I want. Not the one that costs a lot less. I want the car I drove. She took a chance on me and allowed me to add highway and city mileage to a brand new car. She let me drive the stick shift with a “short clutch” (her words) off the lot. She put herself out there for the potential that I might buy the car. Most of all, she was kind. She smiled. She listened. She even offered to complete the appraisal of our current car and complete the sale right then. By the time we got back after the test drive, it was close to 7:30. They closed at 8. It would probably mean she would be home late. She didn’t make it seem like we were a burden. She made us feel like we mattered. I understand sales reps work for commission but we can schedule a time tomorrow or the next day to come back. She has all our contact information. She knows where we live. She remained kind, personable, and smiling the entire evening. Even on hour 10+ of her day.
I will go back to that dealership. I will go back to see that sales rep. I will spend thousands of dollars on a car that is almost what I want (not the right colour but I will settle). Why? Customer service.
Whatever it is you do for a living, don’t forget the people you serve have no idea what is going on in your life. Just offer excellent customer service and be kind. Smile. Customer service matters.
When I graduated from High School I moved about 1400 miles (~2200 km) away and to another country. I left my friends, most of my family, and built a new life. Over the last two decades I have been back only a handful of times. Most of those trips have been for funerals. There was one trek home for a wedding. This weekend I came home again for a few short days.
Last night was my 20 year high school reunion. It was so good to see faces I haven’t seen in years. Many of the people there grew up just down the street from me.
Kirsti, me, Kathryn, Krista G., Janene, Darla, Stephen
The people in this photo I have known for as long as I can remember. We had sleepovers, parties, we went trick or treating together. Our parents knew if we weren’t home, we were with someone from this crowd. We were probably playing outside or biking/walking the well beaten path between our houses. We went to school together. We lived life together.
Krista F. and me
Krista F. and I grew up together too but not because of proximity. We were a part of a baton twirling group called the Halifax Sparklette Majorettes. We travelled, practiced, competed, and twirled through miles of parade routes too numerous to count. Our summers were filled with road trips to multiple cities for any reason possible to hold a parade. Our winters were filled with traveling all over the east coast to compete in endless competitions.
Me and Michelle
I met Michelle in high school. We became quick friends. There was a group of us always together. Amanda, Carrie, Cassandra, Krista G., Michelle, and I could be found roaming the halls and causing disruptions in class. In one particular subject Michelle, Krista, and I sat beside and behind one another. We talked and talked and talked. None of us were paying attention. We were loud. We were having fun. The teacher was not. We were separated. Each of us in a different corner. We didn’t have the ability to text in the nineties and passing notes was a little young for us but we had our own way of communicating. That poor teacher tried so hard but we still talked … across the entire room.
All of these people were as much a part of who I am today as my family. We grew up together and then we lost touch. Long before Facebook existed and mobile phones were smarter than fifth graders, we took our own paths that rarely ever crossed.
Me, Kirsti, Darla, Janene (Photo credit: Kirsti)
Last night I saw my childhood. We danced, we laughed, we reminisced. One of us would tell a story the rest of us had completely forgotten about and while we all laughed until we cried someone else would do the same. I was so busy enjoying myself I completely forgot to take pictures. I managed to get a couple that will forever be treasured. I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.
What’s a trip to Canada without a stop at Timmy’s?
Twenty years went by so quickly and yet we didn’t miss a beat. We picked up like I never moved away, like life stopped where we parted and started again when we reconnected. We talked like we had no cares. Our conversations that did not involve memories from our childhood now revolved around our families and the children we all have that the others have never met.
The view from my hotel room overlooking the commons and the harbour.
I was hesitant about coming back. Not only is it usually much colder in Canada than in the south but travel is expensive. Was it worth the cost of airfare and a hotel? Absolutely. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. Well, maybe not the hotel part. I caught a lot of flak from these lifelong friends and the family I have still living here that I will most likely spare that expense next time.
If you have friends like these in your life, cherish them. Don’t let 20 years go by without getting a hug or a laugh or a once forgotten memory that brings smiles so big your face hurts. Lifelong friends aren’t that common but they are certainly quite special.
(A huge thank you goes out to James Hingley, Lee Rodgers, and Megan Rodgers for organising what I can only imagine was a ton of work.)
Today while washing my hair I noticed one of the many pieces that typically fall out and get tangled around my fingers was white. Pure white. I don’t mean partly brown and partly grey. I don’t even mean a little bit grey. An entire strand that was pure white. It’s not my first grey hair. It certainly won’t be the last but it was definitely the first that was completely grey. I decided to put my hair in a braid today and noticed the natural highlights I have always had in my hair are lighter. There are many greys amongst them now also. Aside from all the grey hair, there are wrinkles I have never had before. Laugh lines, crows feet, even a few sun spots. It doesn’t bother me. It’s all just new.
Clearly I am starting to look my age, though. The local Chick-Fil-A has new trash cans that compact the garbage as it gets full. As I went to put my trash in the bin, the digital sign that normally tells you to wave your hand below the sensor to open the door read “please wait…”. You could hear the compactor compressing everything inside. A teenager walked over to me and said “you need to wave your hand, lady”. I live in the south. Most folks say sir or ma’am to their elders out of respect. Sometimes instead of ma’am they will call women miss. Nope. I was called lady. I might not be as technologically savvy as my children but I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to use a rubbish bin. I must look older than I think to have a teen explain to me how to open the door. 🤷🏻♀️
I don’t mind getting older. No one should. It’s a part of life. Wrinkles and grey hair come with the territory. With age comes experience. Everything you do changes who you become. Whether for the good or bad, it all has an impact. The past makes us who we are. Everything that happens in life is either a lesson or experience.
Don’t let “social norms” guide your life. Be yourself. Enjoy life. Every wrinkle has a story. Every grey hair proves your life’s experience. Just be you and be happy.
What are these you may ask. These are the invitations to my oldest son’s high school graduation I have forgotten to mail out. 🤦🏻♀️
He graduates 🎓 in five days. Less than a week. We’ve had these invitations for a couple of months. I completely forgot about them.
Luckily anyone coming from out of town or from another country has been given the information they need. Hopefully he won’t miss any family members at his big day.
One day maybe I won’t forget to do the important mom things. 🤷🏻♀️
They say time heals all things. I don’t believe that. I don’t think you ever heal from an unexpected loss. You learn to cope and move on but the hole will always be there.
Five years ago today my sister was taken from us way too early. She would have been 40 this past September. Instead of celebrating a milestone of birth, we are mourning a milestone of death.
Sometimes she would call at the worst time, forgetting she was in a different time zone. But she would always return our messages and spoke with us often. She survived colon cancer. She looked diversity in the face and told it to bring it on. She was a firecracker to say the least. But she was my only sister.
She wasn’t always the easiest person to get along with but she was still blood. She would talk with my kiddos on the phone a lot. I know Gregory had a hard time after her death. It was hard to mourn and watch the pain of not only my children but also my parents. You shouldn’t have to bury you child. So many people have.
There are more good days than bad now but sometimes I just want to hear her voice, see her infectious smile, or be drowned out by her laugh.
I don’t believe time can ever fill the void that is created when you lose someone. You do learn to move on and continue life but it is never the same.
Too often in today’s face paced world we take so much for granted. From shelter and food to life itself.
As a paramedic I often see people in situations they never dreamed of being in. I get called to help those having the worst day of their lives every shift.
One day in October my coworkers and I were called to such an emergency. A female was having chest pain. She was young, active, and healthy yet she had already had one heart attack. She looked as though she was having another. Her ECG didn’t show any abnormalities. I helped the ambulance crew load her into the truck, start an IV, and get her stabilised for transport. Although she looked as though she was having a heart attack, she also looked stable enough to transport without incident.
A few minutes after leaving the scene, her heart stopped beating. She went into a rhythm known as ventricular fibrillation where the bottom part of the heart quivers instead of pumping blood because the electrical activity of the heart has gone haywire. The crew pulled the ambulance onto the side of the road and called for helped. They were able to start CPR and deliver two shocks. Her heart started again.
By the time I made it to the ambulance not only was her heart working but she was talking. A patient talking immediately after cardiac arrest is amazing!
Three months later she asked to meet the crew who saved her life. Gratitude spilled through her every word. She told us her experience and what she remembers.
She said after leaving her street all she remembers is floating amongst the clouds until she was in the catheterisation lab where they opened her blocked arteries and then it was a few days after that before she remembers anything else.
During our meeting she hugged us and thanked us. She gave us all soft, fluffy white blankets to remind us of the clouds she was surrounded by while technically dead. She gave me and the other female responder the bracelet pictured above. It is called the Path of Life.
It’s not often we have the privilege of meeting people whose lives we have touched. It truly gives you a new perspective on life. It shows you the blessings you have and fills you with gratitude anew.
Oily Minded Medic 