Hi everyone,

My goal was to have the draft of Chapter 2 roughly done and posted three days ago, but taht did not happen. BUT, the chapter is progressing well, and I am now aiming to post it by the end of day Friday.

As you can see from the picture, some of the delays are unavoidable, as Hobbes as need of my lap regularly, and he cannot get comfortable if I’m typing. Please forward any complaints to him.

I also wanted to take this opportunity to mention that I will be largely exiting the Metaverse by the new year. Most of my content will be taken down, and I’ll really only be using it to direct people here. I’m giving Mastadon and Bluesky a try – we’ll see what happens there.

Keep watching this space! Chapter 2 coming soon.

Among the many things that I am finding challenging these days (and there is no shortage of options) is reconciling all the apparent and emerging contradictions that have become so much of the texture of our lives. 

It has been barely four months since the discovery of Carol Anne’s brain tumor, and yet it feels like years have passed since that day.  Between the end of June and the beginning of November, our family has experienced the following:

• Carol Anne’s brain tumor discovery
  • And brain surgery!
• A wedding
  • That included family getting together for the first time in years, or for the first time ever!
  • And also included time in a different hospital for Carol Anne’s mom, Jane
• Kathleen moved to a new city, with a new husband, to start a new program
  • Marking also the first time for both Kathleen and Matthew moving in with a roommate! 
• Carol Anne’s very involved brain cancer diagnosis
  • Which also precipitated the start of cancer treatment
  • So we (I say “we”, but really it was just Carol Anne) went through 33 radiation treatments
• Zamira starting a new program
• Squeezed in a flying trip by the whole family to Toronto for Jane’s funeral between radiation treatments
• The addition of two new kittens to the household!
• The loss of three cats to the household: two who moved away with Kathleen and Martin, and one who sadly and unexpectedly died.
• Martin starting a new job
• Carol Anne starting the first of 6 courses of chemotherapy

…and this list is not exhaustive!  

Because, of course, there are also all those trivial things that make up the details of everyday life: laundry, shopping, vacuuming, yard maintenance, cleaning of kitchens and bathrooms, home maintenance and improvements (did I mention we are about to have solar panels installed?,) homework and exams, visiting and staying connected with friends and family, learning new patterns of eating and living, and so many more details that they all start to blur into that mosaic background that makes up all of our lives.

Through it all, I have been struck, as if with snowballs in the back of my head thrown by some perversely comic and cosmic angel, with the contradictions of our life right now. 

The first, biggest, and most overarching  contradiction is this: we are in the midst of some of the hardest times in our family’s life, and yet these are some of the best and closest times we have had as a family. We are more grateful for each other and our time together than at any other point, too.  As a family that has worked hard to be there for others, to be available and ready with advice or, a meal, or even just space to listen, we have suddenly found ourselves in need of help.  And the outpouring of love and support from our community, from all of you, has filled us with love and strength at a time when we have been at our weakest and most vulnerable.

Carol Anne is now on long-term disability, and I haven’t worked in almost 2 years. And so our time is a contradiction between having an abundance of available time, and being bound to an ever evolving and increasingly exhausting life of appointments, medications, exhaustion and recovery.

Which leads to the forever contradictory and centering experience of time.

Just before Carol Anne went into surgery, way back in the waning days of June, to have that pesky tumor removed, I looked at her and said: “I want 25.” We didn’t really know what was going on yet, beyond the fact that she had a brain tumor.  We barely knew enough at that point to have any good questions!  But one of the questions that kept throwing itself into my awareness was the question of time: how much of it did she have, did we have? We celebrated our 24th wedding anniversary this past June (one of the many things not included in the opening list!) just 17 days before that surgery. As she was being taken away from me to have cancer removed from her brain, I was absolutely certain that I was not ready to lose her.  I needed more time. “I want 25” was me saying that (and a lot more, but that’s for a different time) to her.

Between the surgery and the time we were finally told the specifics of the diagnosis, we lived in a kind of suspended time of not knowing: not knowing what to expect or how bad to expect it to be; not knowing, what we could safely hope for or what we could try to fight and strive for; not knowing what to research and learn about (an anti-anxiety activity for both of us.) It forced us to return to the moment, over and over, and to be grateful for that time.

But this didn’t mean we were always successful.  There were days, evenings, afternoons, when the awareness of all the time that might be taken from us was present and heavy.  Our plan was to grow old together, and now it looked like we could no longer look forward to those days, nor to so many of the others that we had planned for and imagined. It was an effort, in those moments, to let the anger and resentment and sadness and disappointment have their time – their moment – and then let them go, and return to the gratitude.

So, when we did receive the details of the diagnosis and her treatment and the prognosis, and the indicators all pointed to much more time than we had let ourselves hope for, it felt like an amazing gift. We were being given years  that we thought had been taken out of reach. And although the years may be many fewer than we had hoped for long ago in the before cancer days, from our new vantage point on time, years seemed so, so good.

(So, barring the unforeseen, it looks like we’re going to get our 25, although Carol Anne may still be going through the last of her chemo cycles at that time. In fact, we’ve set a new number as our anniversary goal, and if we make it there we will be satisfied, and we will take every year, every day, beyond that as bonus time.)

Included in this strange context of time is the contradiction in health that Carol Anne continues to experience.  At a time when Carol Anne has felt better and more herself than she has in years, if not decades, her cancer treatment is a strange game of introducing particles and chemicals into her system that make her feel worse in order to make her better. Between the enforced time away from work and taking “medicine” that makes her feel sick, she is having….well, we both are having to remind ourselves and each other that she has cancer. Brain cancer.  And the time she has to give to fighting the cancer now is so that we can have the years that we so desperately crave.

Which leads to the underlying contradiction – the contradiction between baffling surreality and sobering reality.  

My wife has brain cancer. Brain cancer!  This is not something real – this is a plot device in movies and shows to take a character or a plot in a different direction.  This is sad news that we hear about from celebrities and influencers. So discovering that it is real, and that it is residing in my wife’s brain inspires a disconnect from reality, a warping of what can and cannot be expected in life.  

And at the same time, the phrase “my wife is being treated for brain cancer” also inspires a sobering focus of energies. There is no cure, only treatment, and the prognosis is statistical, not specific. So, although there are good indicators and reasons to be hopeful, we really won’t know how effective the treatment will be until she’s gone through it.  And as she is now halfway through the first course of chemo chemicals, we are starting to learn how she reacts to the drugs. We are both figuring out what symptoms to pay attention to, what foods to prepare and how, and how to get through the tougher moments of the chemical war being waged in her body in the name of treatment.  

We are all living in contradictory times!  These are times of abandon and restraint, of acceptance and intolerance, of unshakeable certainty and baffling uncertainty, and so many other dichotomies energies in tension.  

These are the days when you hear more and more often: “Many things can be true at the same time.”

Academically, intellectually, this is easy to accept.

Psychologically, deep down in the soul, it is less easy. It takes intent, and practice.

And so I – we – practice.

As that slapstick angel continues to lob snowballs at my awareness, I call to mind that verbose practitioner of the written word, Charles Dickens, who once quipped:”It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” He might have been on to something.

My father-in-law and close friend Robert Sims was on to something, too, when he taught me that the resolution to unavoidable contradictions is found in paradox.

How are we doing? We are doing paradoxically.  We are going through incredibly hard times very well. We are accepting time as it is given, and we are avariciously seeking more. We live with the gravity of the situation while we float and marvel at the strangeness of it all. And we look forward to the time we have with each other and with all of you, in all of its precious paradox.

Look, I have been very optimistic, and continue to be so throughout my entire journey, however it’s freaking November so cut me some slack! 

Well, it’s November. I have always disliked November. In every place I’ve lived in Canada, November has been an unattractive month. The leaves are mostly down, the sky is grey, and the days are short and getting shorter. You can’t start preparing for Christmas until Advent begins, so in the meantime, life feels grey and dark, and the promise of light seems far away. As someone who deals with SAD, November feels like a journey into the abyss, with February, with its longer days and promise of spring, being a much better place to be. 

This year, November 1st has dawned as grey and dismal as I have ever seen it. It is wet, grey, dark, and miserable, and it is still dark at 8:30 a.m. <Deep sigh.> Every year, November 1st is an exercise in counting days and buoying myself up with gratitude and moments of celebration throughout the month. These areas of celebration are threefold – birthdays, convocation, and Grey Cup football. 

Birthdays – My birthday falls one week into November. This year, I will be turning 56, undergoing chemotherapy, and for the first time ever, I have no parents to tell me my birth story. The day after my birthday would have been my mother’s 85th. This year, for the first time in 56 years, we are not celebrating together. For the past few years (since her 80th and a couple before), I have made the effort to travel to Toronto for our birthdays and get my sister to host a birthday party for us. I am glad that I did this. I am also feeling a bit relieved that not spending our birthday together this year is not because of my treatment, but rather because she is in a better place. My family here in Victoria is happy to have me here this year. No big plans yet, but a low-key celebration is in order. 

Convocation – Every year, UVic holds its fall convocation in November alongside the winter reading break. I always volunteer because it is such a great time of celebration in the dark season. As an administrator, seeing the happy faces of family and students as they celebrate this accomplishment reminds me why I do what I do. Of course, this year, I am not doing what I do. Instead, I am focusing entirely on being well and getting through chemotherapy for a brain tumour. Given where the cycles fall, I cannot safely volunteer at convocation this year, and that is a bit of a bummer! 

The Grey Cup – I know, I know, how old must you be to follow Canadian football! But yes, I am that old, and the Grey Cup is just a tradition I was raised with. With all other traditions falling flat this year, I am planning to make the Grey Cup matter! What is more, the Grey Cup is in Vancouver this year. In a different health environment, I would try to get tickets! I remember when I was a student in Ottawa in 1988 (I know, before many of you were born). The city absolutely came alive and celebrated. It does not matter whether the home team makes it (that year was BC/Winnipeg), a party is held! Bars were open on both sides of the river until 3 a.m. I was a student and couldn’t afford tickets, but one day, it is my dream to get to a Grey Cup game! 

Despite the gloominess of November and the challenges it brings, I’m determined to focus on what I can control and manage my PCV chemotherapy in the best way possible. PCV chemotherapy, which stands for Procarbazine, CCNU (Lomustine), and Vincristine, is a rigorous regimen, but I am finding ways to cope and maintain my spirit. 

Firstly, I’ve built a strong support system around me.  

Family – Morgan, my husband and life source is unfailingly present.  He is generally cooking for me, shopping and entering into my distractions – solar power, new bed, jigsaw puzzles, etc.  He is awake when I vomit at night, and he listens to my TMI.  I could not be luckier! Martin is solicitous and we are spending more time together than we have had the opportunity to spend together in several years.  Kathleen and I talk most days as she is walking home from school and that is fantastic to be able to catch up on her day and distract from mine. 

Friends and roommates – Andrew and Anika are around each day, keeping me and Morgan from getting too deeply into ourselves.  Martin and Zamira add to the company keeping me from getting bored. 

Kittens – OMG.  These two little creatures are a going concern!  Between moments of tearing the house apart in rapid games of chase – and sleeping hard to support their growth, Casey is known to crawl under the covers with me, or to sit on my chest (at the neck) to purr when I am up in the middle of the night. 

I am doing my best to incorporate some light exercise into my day, but I think I need to be a bit more demanding of myself on that front.  And still, when the side effects of chemotherapy hit hard, I allow myself the grace to rest and recover without guilt. I know I can get through this and I am focussing on the future as much as the present to make it happen.  

The occasional pity party is allowed; just don’t overstay your welcome! 

Lastly, I’ve found that staying mentally active and engaged is crucial. Whether it’s through listening to music, or a podcast, working on a puzzle, or writing in my journal, these activities keep my mind sharp and in shape. 

Although November is a challenging month and PCV chemotherapy a demanding treatment, I’m committed to facing each day with resilience, gratitude, and hope. It’s not an easy road, but with the support of my loved ones, a balanced lifestyle, and a positive outlook, I’m finding ways to navigate through the darkness and focus on the light ahead. 

I love weddings!  This is not a secret: I tend to mention it (a lot!) whenever the topic of weddings is brought up.  That having been said, it should be noted that I never, ever want to have another wedding.  Being married is wonderful; getting married is horrible. 

This is reason enough to enjoy a wedding (one’s own notwithstanding): I deeply enjoy the extraordinary efforts that go into producing a wedding, no matter how small or large. I enjoy seeing how the alchemical results from the agonizing contradictions inherent in weddings – the stress, the angst, the torment of making decisions on details that, in most other situations, have negligible importance; but, in the context of a wedding, the importance of those details is magnified a hundredfold – all of this suffering to produce what is supposed to be one of the happiest days of a couples life.  What comes out of this strange crucible is what makes a marriage, and getting to participate in the ceremony that launches that marriage – after all the suffering and planning is done – is one of the great joys of my life. 

So, I collect weddings in my memory like little mental candies of happiness that I pull up for myself every once in a while. Someday I might write a little something about those memories and all of my favourite weddings over the years.  But not today.  Today, I want to talk about one specific wedding.

Last week my daughter and my (now) son-in-law got married.  It was, even adjusting for my bias as father of the bride, one of the most beautiful and wonderful weddings I’ve been to.  Easily in my top three! With over 600 phots of the three day event (not including the “official” photos, which I have not seen yet) it was an event well and truly celebrated!

Setting aside, for a moment, the months of planning and preparing by Kathleen and Matthew, the Wedding Events got underway on Thursday with the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. The rehearsal included entrances, exits, transitions, and tears! It’s weird to think of a rehearsal as something to get emotional over, but the feelings were undeniably big!  Pastor Grant walked us through the whole thing with charm and enthusiasm, keeping it all light and moving along at a brisk pace. By the time we were done, everyone was feeling comfortable and ready for the big show.  

Then came the rehearsal dinner.  So many more people and so many more feelings!  If you’ve read the previous blog posts you are aware that the past couple of months have been unexpectedly challenging. As a family, we were in need of a good celebratory party, and the rehearsal dinner was a perfect overture to the main event.

Family and friends from both sides had been showing up for the past few days, and more arrived that evening to join us all at the dinner, with only a few unfortunate exceptions.  Kathleen’s grandmother (Carol Anne’s mother) needed to spend some time in the hospital. So, Carol Anne’s sister and brother also spent time at the hospital.

Back at the rehearsal dinner, food and conversation were flowing with new friends and family arriving through the evening.  The crowning moment for me came when my two oldest children and their partners arrived.  That marked the first time I was in a room with all four of my children in 19 years.  I experienced so much joy in that moment it was hard to process. Fortunately, I had a couple more days of the same to process and properly appreciate this juxtaposed event. In the spirit of full disclosure, I am still processing the entirety of the emotional and psychological impact this has had on me; stay tuned for a separate post on that!

Fast forward to the next morning – the morning of the big show! 

Wedding day!

Yowza!  

If you have had a child of your own get married you can let me know if any of this sounds familiar: For me, the Wedding Day Feelings were many , diverse, and omnipresent ,with each one getting at least one solo in the extended, improvised jam session. Joy, yes, and sadness, of course.  Let’s not forget a whelming level of pride. There was, for me, also a strange sense of relief: relief that the day was finally here; relief that I was going to be able to manage migraine symptoms; relief that my wife and I were doing this together; relief that this marriage was good. 

You know that good feeling? That feeling that, however it actually plays out, whatever it is, it will be good.   That feeling persisted all day and into the night.  Our whole extended, chosen family was around and present and enthusiastically helping out to make sure we all arrived at the church on time, well dressed, well fed, and in the moment.

The morning started off with the our youngest’s partner Zamira making breakfast for the whole household and bride’s side wedding party.  What a spread!  Throughout the morning, while people woke up and showed up, Zamira made sure everyone was well fed and well hydrated, and she still got herself ready on time, chauffeured people to the church, AND she still went on to sing during the ceremony.  So much amazing work and support from her. (Hey Tropicana – maybe send some money her way and get her to promote your product?)

Our close friend Lorri came over before she was even awake to do hair for the Bride and Bridesmaid (Martin) and then dashed away to get herself ready for the ceremony. Diane and Jim arranged for our rides. Anika was at the ready to help with all the clothes. Drin took charge of Kathleen’s phone and documented our morning. I learned what a circle selfie is. 

Meanwhile, over at the groom’s morning, there appeared to be much laughter and merriment (I wasn’t there.  I’m just making guesses on the photos I’ve seen.)

Pastor Grant officiated a wonderful, moving, and heartfelt ceremony that clearly reflected the couple. Each moment seemed to carry a little bit of magic, and all those bits of magic cast the spell that carried Kathleen and Matthew through the transition from two separate people into a single partnership embodied in two people. I cried, a lot.  My wife cried.  The Bride and Groom cried.  (I’m pretty sure both of Matthew’s parents cried, but I wasn’t looking at them, so I can’t say for sure.) It was amazing.  It was wonderful.  It was beautiful.  I don’t want to take you through a moment-to-moment description because it won’t do it justice.  There is a recording of the ceremony and, if I am able, I’ll link it here for you to enjoy if you want.  I recommend it. It is very moving.

I’d like to take a moment, as we move from the church to the reception, to mention our family friend Julianna Tomaselli.  Julianna’s involvement in the execution of this wedding was instrumental – not only for all the help and advice she provided, but also for the confidence and calmness she brought to the planning and preparation.  When Carol Anne was in the hospital and Kathleen realized she needed to change strategies to get everything done, Jullianna was there to help them out. 

I also want to stop and mention the amazing mother-of-the-groom, Julia.  Julia was the other person my daughter turned to and received immense support from while her parents were otherwise distracted.  Kathleen expressed much appreciation for her relationship with her (now) mother-in-law.  Besides being thrilled that my daughter has married into such a warm and welcoming family, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for well Julia and Kathleen fit into each other’s lives.  Julia’s participation in the execution of this wedding cannot be overstated.  I won’t get into an exhaustive list, but notice all the flower arrangements in the photos?  Julia grew and arranged those.

Which brings us to the reception!  Wowwee Zowwee! What a good reception!  First off, take a look at these table centers: 

The flowers, as I mentioned are by Julia.  The rest – the log cutouts, the number plates, the vases, all of that – was designed and made by Kathleen for every table.  This is the kind of effort, energy, and attention to detail that permeated the entire 3-day wedding event. 

The event was held at the Esquimalt Gorge Park & Pavilion.  What a beautiful venue!  Overlooking the Gorge with floor-to-ceiling windows, it was the perfect backdrop for a great few hours of food and conversation and celebration of the newlyweds. Again, Julianna’s touch was on display in the setup and flow of the event.  The tables were all fun and interesting groups.  It was heartening to see that the communal energy shared by Dawsons and Sargents at the rehearsal dinner was not a fluke!  The mix of families and friends was a lot of fun.  Connecting with our new extended family and friends while reconnecting with family and friends we hadn’t seen in a while all lent itself to a jovial and celebratory feeling that carried itself right through the official photos and into the sanctioned after-party that we held at our house.

There were, of course the regular speeches that are given at this sort of event.  I’ve included links to the recordings of those speeches as they were all lovely (even mine!) and I think they reflect both the spirit of the wedding and the depth of emotion that the wedding invoked in the community.  The quality is what you might expect from phone recordings, but they are worth it!

Recording 1 – Father of Bride

Recording 2 – Father (and Mother) of the Groom

Recording 3 – Maid of Honour

Recording 4 – Best Man

The after-party was a loose and casual affair that Carol Anne and I decided we want to host for anyone who wasn’t quite done celebrating.  We took a short break between the reception and the party for people to change and nap if they chose.  We had no real plans beyond having drinks and food and chairs, and it turns out that was all anyone wanted.  With chairs set up on the lawn in the late afternoon and evening, people from both bride’s and groom’s side gathered to chat and share time.  We talked, we laughed, we all got to spend a little more time with each other while the bride and groom got to spend time with just each other.  The evening ended in a slow fade as everyone took their own time to call it a night.  It was all an easy slow fade knowing that we would see almost everyone again the next morning at brunch.

Saturday morning dawned sunny and hot – the perfect weather for an outdoor send-off brunch!  Many of the previous days’ and nights’ events were again in attendance.  Saturday morning also saw the return of the grandmother of bride!  My mother-in-law returned from the Saanich Peninsula hospital in time to enjoy some of the bruch and company.  People came and went, ate heartily, and generally were able to enjoy time with the newlyweds and each other without any time pressure while gifts were opened and appreciated by Kathleen and Matthew.  

As the morning became the afternoon, the guests all chose their own time to make their exits. The numbers slowly dwindled, but the conversations and visiting continued until we were left with just ourselves and immediate family.  With planes and ferries to catch, our world cross-faded from wedding back into the rest of our regular lives.

So, what with one thing and another, here we are!  Our house is much quieter.  After a week of guests and visiting, the absence of crowds, along with the departure of Kathleen, has left our house feeling very empty.  We are left with a few leftover belongings and a couple of cats to be collected after the honeymoon.  Otherwise, we are adjusting to the new normal of having a child firmly launched into a life independent of us.  

The next few months promise to be busy and interesting in their own right, starting with the acquisition of two new kittens! But that is all for future posts.

For now, I am reflecting on all the changes that this wedding marked for me personally and for our family as a whole.  I expect that many of these reflections will come out in some of those future posts, but for now, I leave you with this:

Regardless of the statistics or the pessimism or the cultural criticism that tells us that getting married is an outdated institution, I still believe deeply in marriage and the magical transformative power that a marriage has on its members.  I have experienced this myself with my wife and our marriage.  I believe I am seeing it in Kathleen and Matthew.  And I am so excited to see what other magic their marriage will produce, not only for themselves, but for all of us in their extended family and community.

A quick postscript! Below are the links for the local businesses that were used. I have received no compensation for promoting these businesses; I just think local businesses are important.

Fig Deli

Victoria Party Rental

Esquimalt Gorge Park & Pavilion

Island Culinary Service