A few years ago I stumbled upon a grass-roots fundraising team dedicated to the support of those facing cancer. The ring-leader of the group as I discovered during a few emails back and forth had very similar experiences with the disease to that of my own. In fact, the parallels were astonishing between our lives. I began to invest in that year’s fundraising paddling event on the waters near Victoria BC, but alas the weekend of the event landed on my first wedding anniversary. As relaxed as she is about my needs to be on the water, skipping our event for a fundraiser seemed inappropriate.
My story begins on a late August weekend at my mother’s home in Qualicum Beach. I visited her often but on this sunny afternoon she dropped a bomb. The cancer was terminal. She had dealt with the illness for many years, and by Christmas of that year there was little anyone could do. By Easter she was dying in the Nanaimo Hospital and I literally postponed my own life and became a live-in caregiver at the palliative ward. She was stubborn in her leaving and after over seven weeks of steady decline she passed away. Spent, probably unemployed by now and in a haze I returned to my island home, dizzy. It was not long after her passing that I was in my kayak paddling with friends on the outer coast of Vargas and Flores Islands in Clayoquot Sound. In my dry bag at my feet was a small glass jar containing some of her ashes. I had planned a scattering at the right moment some time during the week-long paddle trip, but no idea until rounding the point before the beach that would be our first camp.
As the guys landed one at a time in the shelter behind an islet facing the now setting sun, I turned the opposite direction and paddled out towards it. I drifted, admittedly struggling to reach the handle of the bag with my now cramping big toe and free it from the gear surrounding it. In time for the last flash of sunlight I held the jar firmly, said a few words to the horizon and the sea she and I both loved, and tossed the ashes. I recapped the jar now holding a message and tossed it as well. The note had my contact information. But my message in a bottle bobbed twice and sank to the bottom. Such is life.
My weeks in the hospital were revealing and an awakening to the difference even just a bit of outside support can bring to a family, or a patient. At times, too stressful for words, and at others moving beyond anything I could imagine. To go through something so intimate and astonishing as that and not be changed is impossible. As an advocate, son and paddler the organizer of Paddle For Health, Don Lowther and I are one in the same. I scattered her ashes to the sea and Don honours his mother with an annual fundraising event bringing laughter, love of paddling and much-needed cash to those who need it most.
This year is a different story and thankfully the paddle fundraiser benefitting the new Vancouver Island Family Support Program and to aid in expanding the levels of support to Island-based families who have children with cancer is on a different weekend than my anniversary! And I am glad to be taking part, raising some funds with a goal of a mere $500 and of course, recruiting a few more paddlers to do so as well for this September’s day on the water.
Below are a couple of links. One is my chimp.com secure fundraising page. The next link is to Paddle For Health’s website so you can learn more and hopefully, sign up and join the fun.