Happy 12th Birthday Gabrielle

Gabrielle, hard to believe you'd be 12 years old today. 

We still think about you every day, all day... and sometimes we talk about what you'd be like had you never been given I-Cell Disease. I can just picture you walking to the junior high bus with your big brother Michael and a group of friends in Gr.7.

Thanks for choosing us my dear angel. And happy birthday from the other side.

Love your Mom, Dad, and your 3 brothers.

A new life - 10 years later

 Gabrielle,

There have been a few small events that have happened in the last 24 hours and I am able to see you through new eyes. Today, Canuck Place celebrated 25 years of service and I was reminded of the first time I ever truly experienced hope, and that was upon arriving at Cancuk Place in the back of the ambulance with you. Today is the first day of December. The boys are excited about Christmas and I am excited to celebrate this month with them. A month of light leading up to the celebration of Christmas, the birth of Jesus. I think of you. I think of your light amidst the darkest, darkest days. You continued to shine and Christmas reminds me to slow down and to focus on the wonderment of you and life. I am also nearing the end of my year-long coursework on my journey to becoming a counsellor. Today in class we had class time to work on our final thesis project and my topic is surrounding your loss. My colleague suggested I do a study where I study myself and my experiences in losing you. It brought me to our blog where we so naively documented some of our time with you. I went through some of it tonight with a slightly different set of eyes and seeing you again broke me all over. You, my daughter, I saw you. I saw us. I saw the deep deep pain and the deep deep joy. I saw the suffering we endured together as I watched you slowly deteriorate before my eyes. The pain we put you through in the hospital and the love your brothers had for you. How I was chosen for this journey with you is something I will never understand. You were too good to be true. I love you so much my daughter and you are my reason for so much in this life. 

Yours forever,

mom

My friend, Grief.

Hello, my dear friend Grief.  What brings you today?  Was it when your 5 year old niece mentioned how she wishes Gabrielle was at home for her to play with?  Or was it when your 10 year old son woke up talking about a dream he had with his sister where they were at the water slides and Gabrielle was walking and her and James held hands as they walked around the pool.

Upon Gabrielle's diagnosis, I have been grieving.  At every stage of her life, I grieved so many things.  I grieved the boys not having a sister, a little girl to raise who would grow up, have babies and a family of her own, I grieved not being able to watch my only girl get married, go to high school, have friends, play sports and dance or play music.  Would she look like me?  Or would she look more like her Dad? I grieved her entire life.  I also grieved her devastating diagnosis that slowly wrapped it's ugly hands around my daughter and took her life from her.  It caused her such struggle, so much suffering and pain.  I hated every second of I-cell disease and I hated what it did to my daughter's body.  Grief became my constant companion as I grieved alongside my daughter but the greatest grief came when she died.

In the last 7 years, I have become a student of grief.  I live it everyday, I read about it and I understand the in's and out's of it, what it looks like and how very complex and mis-understood it is. Grief from child loss is exhausting, scary, confusing, debilitating and impossible to imagine unless you've lived it.  Grief comes when you don't want it to, like when your in the middle of a conversation with your child's teacher and you break down, or when your exercising at the gym and you burst into tears, or when your standing in a line up at the grocery store and a little blond girl walks by and all of a sudden you can't move.  Grief is always there.  It's my constant companion.

Grief is incredibly misunderstood and because people are unfamiliar with it, we have been judged many times over the past 4 years about the way in which we live our lives, and the decisions we make.  It's interesting though, because all decisions and choices we've made in the past 4 years have been purely survival choices as grief steers us in directions that we just cannot help.  You make plans and then the day of the event, you just can't move and need to cancel.  You don't make all of your sons soccer and hockey practices, because your just so exhausted from grief that you physically can't do it.  It's so frustrating, it sucks and it's so not fair.  There are days when I want to take my grief and tell it to ^$&%& off and leave me alone.  There are days where you just want to feel 'normal'.  I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

The interesting thing about grief is that as time moves on your 'grief muscle' gets a bit stronger.  It's not that you stop grieving, it's that the muscle that carries the grief gets stronger and stronger. It bends and molds and gets shaped over time and there are times when grief visits and with this muscle you give it the biggest boot in the ass and tell it to take off.  No, not here, not now.  The show must go and on and sometimes there is no place for grief.  It's amazing really and I am fascinated by the human spirit's ability to survive.

I have learned many lessons but one of my favourites is that unless you walk a mile in someone's shoes, you have absolutely no place to judge how they choose to live their lives.  Be kind to people, spread love, help each other out as you have no idea what battle they're fighting.  Life is so hard, let's love each other, let's share out stories and listen to one another's struggles.  We're human and we'd be naive to think that we're not getting out of this life without deep scars and wounds and scratches.

To my daughter on her 3rd Angel Anniversary.

To my beautiful, beautiful daughter,

3 years today we said goodbye to you and I have been trying to make sense of it since the day we released you back to your heavenly home.  How you are missed Gabrielle Mae.

When you died, I wanted to run.  Run and run and run, somewhere with my house full of boys, somewhere where I can slow time down, and soak every second of it in. Somewhere, where I could sit in nature and be a part of your brother's beautiful childhood. A childhood that was stolen from you, a childhood that you did not get to experience in it's entirety. I want to soak it all in Gabrielle, I want to sit witness with tears streaming down my face, my spirit lit up with love and wonder as I watch the miracle of your brothers growing and living and running and playing. Childhood is such a  magical and innocent time in life and I want to see it all.  I want to deeply inhale every second of it, and I want to slow it all down. Away from the rat race, away from any expectations and away from the noise.

Oh Gabrielle, how you woke something inside of me.  Something so deep and a life force I've never felt before, powerful and real and able to have survived the un-imaginable.  I remember after receiving your devastating diagnosis, wondering how would I ever be able to live again once you died.  And every morning I wake up, and here I am.  My heart still beating, my lungs still taking in air.  I can't believe it.

Every parent's worse nightmare.

You continue to be the most darling daughter.  Saving me from my half-asleep existence and teaching me to live in the moment and to savour as much as you can in life.

You showed me strength in being broken.  Completely and utterly broken.  And you also showed me the strength of the human spirit.  You see, when you died, I died too.  Our souls tethered together, I wanted to go with you.  And these last 3 years I have learned real sorrow, real brokenness and deep sadness.  Amidst the pain and suffering, I have also seen light and I have witnessed my own strength and courage.  Some moments I don't think I can possibly move and other moments I feel more alive then I'd ever dreamed of.  I gasp for air and fall to my knees and embrace the pain and I release the guttural sobs and tears.  And then however long I need, I get up.  For you, your brothers, your dad and for me.  Because that is what you would do, and always did.

You lived your life with such grace and strength until the day you died.  I will always choose to honour you and this life I've been given.  Even on days when all I want to do is curl up into a ball and scream at the unfairness of it all, for not being able to save you and to kiss your 'owies' away.  I will continue to move through the discomfort and confusion and disorientation that accompanies child loss.  I am weak and I am strong.

I will continue to reach towards light in the darkness and continue to carefully mend the pieces back into my new, very different reality.

I will continue to search for you.  I am irrevocably changed baby girl and I would re-live all the pain and trauma all over again if it meant one more second with you.

Thank you for being the most amazing daughter Gabrielle.

Your mamma, forever and ever.  And ever and ever.

The month of 'Mae'

My daughter.  My girl, my dream.  If it were possible for a mother and daughter to be soul mates, Gabrielle is mine and I am hers.

Her playful, gentle, fun-loving nature melted your heart.  She oozed with the most delightful energy that made you want to laugh and talk and be with her and her eyes drew you in.  She was so wise, wise beyond her years.

My story of Gabrielle is a love story.  It is an enduring love journey that not even death can steal from me.  It is my biggest fear that my daughter will be forgotten, will become a distant memory in the hearts and minds of friends and family as time carries on.  But in me, she is alive.  She is strong and healthy and she is draped over my entire body and spirit, invisible to the eye but present to me every second.

In the birds, in the flowers, in the ladybugs and butterflies and light. She owns them, they are hers and ours. Messages from her world right to my heart.  Our hearts. Reminding us that she is still with us.  Her love continuing to make our hearts beat strong.  Protecting us and guiding us as we carry forward with Gabrielle slightly ahead of us.

My little girl will never celebrate any more birthdays, go to school, graduate, or get married.  My heart has accepted that but I continually try to find ways to keep her spirit alive everywhere.

I'm beginning to think that all these beautiful pieces in nature: daisies, lavender, and songbirds were put on this earth to help me connect with Gabrielle.  They were put here as reminders and to help me to continue unfolding her story and her connection from her world to mine.

The month of May is a beautiful and painful month for us. May was Gabrielle Mae's last month on earth, and as time moves forward and her story continues, it comes to no surprise that her middle name is "Mae".  May is a time of beauty, hope, joy and love.   May is a month to celebrate, to celebrate life and the love of a mother for her dear child.

It's as if this May I've noticed an explosion of life, of spirit in nature.  Gabrielle is alive everywhere, the songbirds outside, the butterflies and the beautiful flowers in bloom.  Singing her song, showing her beauty and making her mamma feel connected and her heart beat.  This story is a journey of deep love.

As her 3rd Angel anniversary approaches on the 7th of June, her 6th birthday on the 13th of October and as I quietly and loudly continue to love and miss her through her death, the month of May becomes even more meaningful.

I want to spend the whole month of May in a garden where our spirits can be so strongly connected and I can whisper to the wind "I love you Gabrielle Mae.  I love you, I love you. I love you."

Jimmy, Mickey, Jonny ~ Fall 2015

Gabrielle would have been 5 this coming Tuesday. She continues to live through us in spirit.

Wise words for the day.

After an emotional couple of days, Oprah said just what I needed to hear.  Thank you Oprah.

Halloween

Dearest Gabrielle,

Do you remember this?  This was your last Halloween with us on earth.  Your big brother James was in Kindergarten and I took the two older kids (you and Michael) to the school while Jonny slept to watch Jimmy's class parade through the school in their costumes and sing songs afterwards.  I dressed you up in your lady bug costume that I still have hanging in your closet.  How I miss having you in my arms.  How I miss bringing you up to the school.

Today, 2 years later, Michael had his parade and songs in the Kindergarten classroom but he wouldn't dress up and he wouldn't go into the class until all the moms and dad's had left and the classroom had returned to a semi normal state.  He insisted I hold his hand the whole time we paraded through the school and he was the only little boy without his costume on.  I didn't mind, I was so proud of your brother anyways.

I miss you beautiful girl.  Look how happy we look together, you lit up every room you went in Gabrielle.  You were so special.

Happy Halloween.

xxoo

Magical moments

We went to California this past Spring Break to visit two very special families.  Here are a few of my highlights:

Waking up in the morning and cuddling with Niko.  

Oh how I love my 3 boys.

Playing in the park in SF with the Dobro and Watson families.

The most special kids ever!

Our boys fell in love with Claire and Niko.  James was right at home lying on the floor beside Claire.

Jonny loved Claire!!!  

The Watson kids and our boys playing.

Gabby's spirit is alive and strong in our family.

A treasure

I found this picture while looking for something else and I had to pull it up on my computer and sit and stare at it.  I love this picture.  I haven't seen this picture in a long time.  I have gone through our photos of Gabrielle so many times, that I think I know each one off by heart.  But this one was not in my picture folder and when I saw it, it made my heart skip a beat.  Like finding a really, really special treasure. It brings back such special sacred memories.  My little angel lying in my bed with James and I.  James has been really sad this past week missing his sister so this picture seems fitting.  But I always found these two lying side by side, he loved being close to Gabrielle. To say it is difficult living day to day missing your child is a complete understatement.  In fact, I'm constantly torn in sharing my journey in missing my angel because I find words just don't even come close to describing the way my heart feels.  Not even close.  

I love you my beautiful daughter.
xxoo

Canuck Place Adventure Challenge 2014 a success!!!

Thank you everyone for supporting us in this very special event to raise money for Canuck Place.  The day couldn't have been more beautiful down at Jericho Beach in Vancouver.

As a bereaved mom, I spend my time in two worlds.  One being with my boys and Regan and the other with Gabrielle.  I am filled with such joy as I get to watch the three boys grow and enjoy their lives and I am also filled with such sadness as I visit her daily in my day and imagine Gabrielle with us wherever we go.  It has been these 4 boys that have kept me breathing since she died. She would have loved being down at the beach with us, I can picture it so clearly.  We miss her so much.

So while I absolutely loved the race; kayaking in the beautiful ocean looking at the mountains, the downtown landscape, the beach and enjoying such a feeling of peace, to screaming through the trails feeling like a kid  again as I raced up and down the hills through the majestic trees to the final run where we cheered on the other competitors we saw, I finished with such a feeling of emptiness.  It was tough.

We got to see the kids at the transition point and they were so cute.  The looks of determination on their faces was the absolute best thing to see.  James was so excited and because of this experience can't wait for his next race.

I am so grateful for all the support we received from all of our family and friends.  Thanks to my beautiful sister Julie for joining me and wrapping her arms around me at the finish line.

Canuck Place provides the most wonderful care and I will continue to be involved with them.  My connection to them, is and always will be, paramount in my life.

Watch James' Fundraising Video for Canuck Place in Honour of Gabrielle

James, our 7 years old son, demanded we make a video and put it on the internet. He is participating in an outdoor adventure challenge to raise money for Canuck Place Children's Hospice in honour of his sister who passed away a year ago.


To make a donation please go to his fundraiser page. If that doesn't work you can make a donation in Gabrielle's name.

Happy 2nd Birthday Jonathan!

Happy 2nd birthday baby boy!  On the morning of your birthday I can't help but reflect on our last two years and all that we've been through as a family.  July 19th, 2012 feels like a million years ago...

About a week before you were born, your big sister got sick with a cold and was admitted to BCCH.
It appears that Gabrielle went to extreme measures just so she could make sure she was in the same building as you when you arrived in this world and once she was feeling better, your Dad would sneak her down to your room so that you could visit with one another.

They were very good to Jonathan and I and they let us stay 4 days until Gabrielle was healthy enough to come home.  The four of us, left the hospital together and were greeted by two very thrilled brothers waiting at home!  I remember the feeling of strapping both of you into your car seats with a little girl who was squealing with happiness and with a round, chubby beautiful baby boy who I couldn't believe was mine.  Oh the feelings of joy I felt, leaving the hospital with my two babies and bringing them home to their big brothers.  Life was grand and our family was complete.

Having you felt like a completely different experience.  I had the confidence and calm of an experienced mother but I marvelled at the absolute miracle of a new baby in a way that I never had before.  Your sister taught me not to take anything in this life for granted and I saw you with a completely different set of eyes, and I have no one but Gabrielle to thank for that.  Your sister has enriched our lives in a way that I never ever in a million years could have imagined.

1 day old

Our first family picture at the hospital.  

Home at last!

Our summer at home in the backyard

First birthday 

2nd birthday 

At 2 years old you love...

* playing soccer
* trying to keep up with your big brothers
* dogs
* jumping on the trampoline
* your bottle and blanket
* making us laugh.

Thank you for all the joy you have brought to our lives in a very difficult and dark time.  You have reminded us that we need to keep living when many days we felt like we couldn't.  Your sister's spirit is alive in you Jonathan, I see it everyday.  We love you so much.  Happy Birthday baby boy.

Happy 5th Birthday Michael!

When you were just 15th months your beautiful baby sister arrived in this world.  From the moment she was born, we were filled with an overwhelming love and grief as we tried to understand the cruel set of cards our little Gabrielle was dealt.  You being so young and still a baby yourself was always by your little sisters side.  You used to call her "Gabyelle" and you loved to lie beside her and I always marvelled at your gentle nature with her.  You loved your sister who was just a year behind you, who should have followed in your footsteps for many years longer.  You two would have been in preschool together last year and only a year apart in school.  You were an amazing, gentle, kind brother to your little sister.

Happy 5th birthday Michael.  You have been through so much in your short life and we are so proud of you.  You have your sister's spirit alive and strong in you and I know how proud she is of the 5 year old you have become.  We love you our strong, brave, crazy, energetic, 'wears his heart on his sleeve' Mickey!

At 5 years old you love:

* being woken up in the morning by Jonny
* Jonny
* Ice cream at the beach
* Soccer
* Make believe play: sabre tooth tigers, ninjas, power rangers
* When Daddy doesn't talk in accents

* Knowing where everyone in his family is at all times

Newborn baby

First birthday and pregnant with Gabby.

2nd birthday at Canuck Place

3rd birthday card from Gabrielle

3rd birthday on the balcony outside Gabby's room at BCCH the night before your baby brother was born.

Icing lips

4th birthday party at home 

4th birthday boy

Memories of Gabrielle Mae Ross

One year ago tomorrow you left us, and to quote the poet from the last post, we're working hard to make that all alright.

Of course no one knows what to say... Like how many people have lost a child? And you can't make anything better with words. And that's okay.

But I'll tell ya what bereaved parents (especially mothers) absolutely love, is when they hear other people talking about a memory or story about their child who passed. Or even how their child made them feel. Or how they made them think about something. Or inspired them. Or anything.

There's a light out there. We all have it. And, if you don't mind, both Amy and I would be eternally grateful if you shared one of those memories or moments or feelings or thoughts you have with Gabrielle right below (like in the comments section).

It would be the biggest gift to us... just to hear and see and read that Gabrielle's light and love and laughter is still flickering away in more than our own souls... and is alive and well.

Our Little Buddha

It's almost been a year since she left. Gabrielle was our little Buddha. Re-watching pieces of this documentary with Amy tonight (see below) compelled me to share a few quotes with whomever still visits here:

"Everybody understands suffering. It's something that we all share with everybody else."

"No matter what your circumstances you will end up losing everything you love, end up aging, you will end up ill, and the problem is that we need to figure out how to make that be all alright."

"When I know the glass is already broken, I know every minute is precious."

That last one couldn't better capture our time with little Gabrielle.

I should also share that I just can't help but view our indulgent society with all its frills and luxuries akin to Buddha's childhood palace with its material and egoistic ambitions... and how utterly afraid everyone is to hurt and suffer... and how "un-real" that world view is.

I've long, long wanted to share these thoughts and parallels with Buddhism to our time with Gabrielle. I couldn't explain the former to you any better than this documentary does:

"The Buddha saw death and life as inseparable. These are two sides of the same thing. Death is always with us. Death is part of the whole large unknown. And if we are unable to smile at the idea of the unknown, then we're in real trouble."

reflection

I am so grateful we have this blog.  Whenever I need some connection to Gabrielle, this is one place where I can turn to.  I can watch the videos, gaze at her pictures and remember my little girl.

Since reading and reflecting some things have become more clear to me.  As I was reading my post about grieving a normal life, I know now what I was trying to say.

I didn't want her to die.  That's what I was grieving.

I didn't want her to suffer with her horrible disease.  That's what I was grieving.

I wanted to protect her  brothers from the sadness of losing their sibling who they were so incredibly close with.  That's what I was grieving.

I wanted to protect my daughter from all the unfairness that her disease brought to her.  I wasn't able to. Instead, I had to prepare myself to one day say good bye.  That's what I was grieving.

How do you say good bye to your child forever?

How do you hold her hand and kiss her face as they take their last breath?

How do you live the rest of your life without them there?

That's what I was grieving.

Our last family photo with Gabrielle.

RIP Charlie

A little boy Charlie lost his fight with I-cell this morning and we are so deeply saddened by this loss.  I found out the news while laying on the couch in the bright sun this afternoon and I just layed there and cried.  I cried for Charlie's parents because the pain is all too unbearable.  Charlie's sister Amber also had I cell disease and passed away last May, a month before Gabrielle.  And just like Gabrielle, he seemed to be doing so well.  So happy and strong and on a roll, just like our little girl.  No parent should ever experience this pain, and this young couple is experiencing this pain again.  It breaks me up.  It's just not right.

RIP Charlie.  You are running free now, free of pain and free of I-cell disease.  I will pray for your mommy and daddy as they try to learn to live without you.  They will miss you terribly.  Please pray for this family as they grieve and try to make sense of losing both their children.

Charlie and Amber

We Still Miss You Gabby

Caring for Strangers

I stumbled upon this video today and it made me think of my little girl and how many strangers felt because of her. Whether it was meeting strangers at the hospital or Canuck Place, or hearing from perfect strangers we never met through this blog or letters or drop-by's, Gabrielle made people care ... and that, I think, made people feel good and alive.

You go from having a little girl that who brings out the real in people to ... well ... normal and boring and empty. There's something wrong with that. This artist is on to something.