The last couple of weeks have been rough. After Michael’s accident we had family members flying all over the place, which my anxiety really didn’t like (especially when it involved putting my 72-year-old father on a plane for a 24-hour trip to Australia). He got there all right, but then Michael passed away and we started an overwhelming game of Should We or Shouldn’t We Go to Australia for the Funeral.

We didn’t go.

It was agonizing. I couldn’t imagine not going, and yet I couldn’t quite figure out how we’d make it work either. I’ve been so sick so far this pregnancy that a 24-hour trip seemed like the World’s Worst Idea. I could have gone, of course, and would have, but we also didn’t want to totally overwhelm everyone by showing up a day before the funeral with a three-year-old in tow.

In the end, we decided we will be the second wave of support and go down in a few weeks (with my other sister) when things have calmed down and my sister and brother-in-law are trying to adjust to their new normal. In the meantime, we’ve sent texts and messages—by the hundreds, it seems—and if waves of love can reach that far they’ll have had an ocean’s worth.

Now the funeral is done. Friends and family have spoken words of love and Michael’s school mates formed an honour guard for him as he left the cemetery. Those of us here have had our own moment to remember him and we now exist in that space between blessed closure and enduring disbelief. We continue to ask why, but an answer never comes.

Until today, half of my family was in Australia (more than half, actually). My brother also went for a quick down-and-back to help my dad and youngest sister travel comfortably home. (Working for an airline has its benefits.) Much to everyone’s relief, they’re just arriving home after another 24-hour trip in a very short span of time.

There is no pause button in this life. And try as I might, I haven’t been able to find any sort of rewind button either. So for the moment, I have chosen to hit reset. Instead of being in perpetual limbo—waiting for what?—I declared Easter weekend a weekend to go out of town. We got out of the house, where we’ve been sitting waiting for the phone to ring or the next text message to wing its way across the world, and spent some time in the mountains.

More on that later, but in the meantime I’ll say this: It helped.




  1. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss, and your family’s loss. xo

  2. I am glad that you found the reset button.
    Sometimes that’s what we need to push through.
    I can’t imagine losing someone so close so far away. You must be so overwhelmed.
    Big hugs mama xoxo

  3. Sometimes reset is just what we need. I’m so very sorry you have been going through this. Much love to you.

  4. Robin, I’m so sorry for the loss of your nephew and I hope that the weekend you had away carries you for awhile.

  5. I’m so sorry about this Robin =( I just hopped over from SITS and now this is the news I see. Yes, there’s no pause button in life… Life moves on. God bless you!

  6. I am so sorry. Continued thoughts and prayers for you all.

  7. It sounds so overwhelming, and I’m glad you were able to find a reset button. You and your family are still in my thoughts and prayers. xo

  8. @yaelsaar says:

    I love you.

  9. I am so sorry for your loss. When something this tragic happens so suddenly I think it’s human nature to bombard ppl with support, offers of help etc. It’s in the days, weeks and months following that can be even more difficult. I am sure your sister and brother in law will welcome your second wave of support.

    Sending you hugs.

  10. I can’t even imagine what your family is going through. I’m so, so sorry. And if you find that rewind button, please share it with me, ok?

  11. Oh how awful for your sister and how desperately we want to keep our children safe. No doubt your support in a few weeks will mean so much to your sister. Take care.

  12. I’m sorry for your loss but relieved you have been able to find the reset button. The woulda coulda shouldas will always be there, but hopefully you will find some peace with them soon.

  13. I have been reading your blog since just before you moved to AB. I have been meaning to comment. Also, I am behind on my reading. Today I am finally taking some time to catch up. First, I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine what your sister is going through right now. And you? How difficult when family is so far away at times like this. Kudos on the reset. I’m glad it helped. Second, congrats on the pregnancy. Hopefully you will get beyond the sickness soon. Third..Welcome to Alberta! I hope you are feeling at home here. It has been my home for 12 years and I love it. Most of the time. 😉

    Anyway, thinking of you and sending prayers. And a hug –

  14. Robin that must have been such a hard decision for you guys.
    You made the right one. Your health is very important.
    But I understand the struggle

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