A Ferry Ride

I am on a BC ferry on my way from Vancouver Island back to the mainland. Tomorrow I will be picking up my Donnie, my Moondog, and Emily’s ashes. Charlotte will join us next week for several days and our family will be complete again.

I came to our Little River house just outside of Comox on Sunday, and have been busy acquiring what is needed (including, for the first time in our life, a king bed!), setting up internet, and desperately attempting to get heat, which has so far failed. Fortunately, my friend Heather is both housing me and helping, all hours of the day and night, to make my transition a smooth one.

I will say that I have been on a bliss trip since arriving, in spite of hiccups like absence of heat and a washing machine that produces sediment rather than clean laundry. There is a heron’s nest in one of the many gigantic tree surrounding our property and prehistoric noises emanating from it as well as gorgeous birds circling our property, even their shadows majestic. The ocean (Emily’s Beach) is moments away, the air is among the freshest in the world, and our house is a wonderland of surprises and delights. I keep walking the wrong way because there are so many bedrooms! Being accustomed to apartment living, I am feeling exceedingly spoiled with all the indoor and outdoor space. This is a paradise I have not experienced as an adult, and I can’t wait to start gardening and decorating, and communing with the abundant nature.

The sea is rough on the ferry just now, the waves are roiling, and I am hoping there might be an orca sighting or two. It’s herring season so the whales are abundant. A little baby has been caught in a bay up in the north of Vancouver Island because she followed her mother there who was consequently beached and died. A helicopter is attempting to  drop a sling today to return her to her pod. She has been wailing for her mama, and the locals have been sending out sounds of her auntie, trying to lure her back to her family.

Emily has lured us here to our SInging Sands neighbourhood, to the beach she adored/s, and with the promise of tranquility, community, and unparalleled nature. Already, with just under a week under my belt and minus my sweetie and doggie and along with much industry, I feel renewed. My word of the year is reinvention and, my oh my, it is happening in spades. For one thing, all my lovely work clothes have been traded in for jeans and boots, a toque is necessary for beachy walks, which will be an at-least daily venture (a promise I made to my Emily), and my spirit feels so much lighter. At risk of sounding cliche, it is soaring with the many eagles I have already seen. 

How can one be so blessed and at the same time left with a permanent hole in my heart? Emily’s physical presence is not here, but her spirit assuredly is. Gratitude and focus on the beautiful moments I have been given is my way forward. Also, supporting those who also have such grief through my own learnings, intuitions, and messages from my Emily has given me tremendous purpose.

Purpose, peace, playfulness and passion: this is what I am being gifted. My thanks go to Emily.