Letters to my Mom - Part 1

 Hi Mom, 

I'm here in Playa del Carmen, Mexico while Carlos and Isaac are in the Philippines. They visited Tita Girlie and everyone else a couple of days ago and went swimming at Kuya Bobby's house. Isaac really enjoyed the visit and of course, the cats at the house. 

I had a counselling session yesterday and she suggested that if I'm journaling (or blogging in my case) that it would be useful to write 'letters' to you, so here I am. I have had a lot of quiet reflection time here, with some time dedicated to you and your memory. I miss you and I hope that you're at rest with no aches or pains. I hope that your soul or your being is with your loved ones that have also passed. To be with your mom, Lola, Tita Noy and others must be really nice. You can all chismis and watch over us while drinking coffee and eating pandesal, bibingka and whatever else your heart desires. Maybe you can (re)learn to play mahjong there and perhaps theres superpowers that will make you actually good at it, lol, because you weren't very good at it here. Or I guess just scrabble or words with friends will be just as good. 

December 2005 - amateur mahjong at the Estrella household. 

I'm sorry mom. I wish I could have spent more time with you in the last number of months and weeks leading up to your passing. I guess deep down we all kind of knew. I remember you telling me that you think you're dying already, but you said that often to me, so I didn't really take it into account or brushed it off. I'm sorry. I'm so happy though that you died in your sleep, I'm sure you are too. You know, Isaac really misses you. He doesn't know exactly how to verbalize it or whatnot, but I can tell. He is scared of death now and I'm not sure if him seeing you like that was the best decision. He told me that he doesn't want me to die (a couple of times) and I had to reassure him that I'm not going anywhere. Poor guy. He also knows that he only has one grandparent left. I wish he had more family around him in Calgary and not scattered around the world. I wish we could give him a sibling with the snap of our fingers. In general he's doing really good though. He is enjoying soccer lesson and swimming (not lessons, but in general). Like Ruben, he is adventurous and wants to do flips and somersaults all the time and for his birthday he's hoping to get a skateboard and go to a trampoline park with his friends. Oh my. I'll just be grateful if he can learn to ride his bike with actual pedals. 

Here's a pic of you and IC in the Philippines when we went to Bohol, July 2022. 

Isaac never cried during your funeral or anything. He just saw me cry (along with others). He was really sweet when he did see me cry, but that's not something I wanted him to witness. I worry that he didn't process it well. 

Anyway, that's all for now I guess. I love you. 

Deannie. 

20 Things You Need to do Alone After Losing a Parent

This Instagram post came across my feed at a good time, as I'm doing #12 (travelling alone) at the moment. So I figured I'd write the list of '20 things you need to do alone after losing a parent' down below and give a status update and reflection on them.

Mom's 85th birthday celebration at Asian Buffet. She was reluctant to have this event in her honour, she never wanted attention or do anything 'special'. However, she was very happy that day and I'm glad that all of our Calgary relatives were able to attend and celebrate her 85 years of life. She died about 2.5 months before her 87th birthday. 

1. Sit with the reality that they’re not coming back. (Kinda) 

This is a hard one. It has almost been four months since my mom died and there's times when I am still in disbelief that she is gone. I think part of it is because I don't really have a belief of what happens to people when they die. Does her soul still live on, is she in heaven, or is she just simply vanished into thin air with her body decaying six feet under the earth at Eden Brook cemetery? But yes, I understand that she is not coming back. My mom lived to be nearly 87 years old and that is a blessing. I often feel resentful though that my mom had me at the age of 39; if she had me earlier then I would have have all those extra years with her. That is just simply not the reality of things though and a waste of my thoughts. I am grateful for the time we had together. And yes, my dear mother is not coming back. 

2. Drink coffee somewhere quiet. (No) 

I will try to do this during my vacation. 

3. Watch a sunrise.(No) 

I will try to do this during my vacation. 

4. Take a long walk with no destination. (No) 

I will try to do this during my vacation. 

5. Visit a place they loved. (No)

I have not done this intentionally yet, other than sitting in mom's favourite chair where she spent most of her days. Mom was a homebody and didn't go out much, but she did enjoy going out to eat at Chinese restaurants. In my previous blog, I posted a photo of our family at Gong Kee restaurant. I have not been there in decades (literally) and so I will make an intentional visit there one day. I realize this list is to do things alone, so perhaps I can go during a lunch break. 

6. Look through old photos. (Yes) 

I have done this multiple times and is one of the grieving activities that comforts me. Not only have I looked at old photos but I was the one that created mom's tribute video which was hours upon hours in the week leading up to her funeral. Since then, I have rewatched said video probably 15 times. I also like to watch videos that I captured of mom over the years. My brother was always annoyed at me taking videos and photographs, but being the sentimental person that I am, I knew it was worthwhile to do so. What I am especially glad about it is doing a video series with my mom when she we were both stuck in the hospital in the Philippines in 2024. Mom was quite cooperative with it, as we both kind of thought she was dying there and therefore she knew it was a good way to share her life story with the ones she loved. I have only shared the video with my siblings and wonder if I should share it more broadly with extended family. 

An oldie buy goodie photo. I don't know where this was taken or what year - circa 1990. 

7. Listen to a song that reminds you of them. (Yes) 

Frank Sinatra all the way. This is an easy one. I have a video of mom singing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" by Frank Sinatra on karaoke. At the end of the video I tell her that I love her and she replied, "I love you too, Deannie". I hope to turn this video into a photo montage of Christmas memories with her. 

8. Write down everything you wish you could still say. (No) 

I like this idea, I'll do it - perhaps in another blog post. 

9. Sit in a church or quiet place of reflection. (No) 

10. Go for a long drive with no music. (No) 

11. Train your body until your mind quiets down. (Kinda)

I am trying to do some yoga and meditation while I'm on vacation. I will do more meditation as it is meaningful. Regardless if it is with intentionality around my grieving, it is worthwhile. 

12. Travel somewhere alone. (Yes) 

I write this blog from my rented condo in Playa del Carmen, Mexico, while my family vacations elsewhere and my dogs are at home with dog-sitters. I told myself that part of this vacation was to sit with my thoughts and process my grief. Well, here I am. I am grappling with a little guilt that I'm doing this, mostly as how it may be perceived by others. I tell folks that this is my self-care vacation as I didn't want to go to the Philippines once again and do the same old things with relatives. I don't know if people understand, but it really isn't about them. I am doing this for me and I'm so grateful to have the time to actually sit here and do things like this blog. Later today I have an initial meeting with a counsellor. When else do I have time to do things like this? Actually, I'm proud of myself. 

13. Eat a meal they used to love. (Yes) 

On my mom's birthday, we went out for Chinese food and we specifically ordered Cantonese Chow Mein in her honour. However, I would like to go get halo halo somewhere one day in her memory. 

14. Visit their grave or a place that feels close to them. (Yes) 

I wish I could go more. Every time I go and visit mom, I wonder if her body has decomposed underneath seeing as though it is still quite cold in the winter months. Is that weird? I once brought a chair and sleeping bag and stayed a good 30 minutes or so. I'd like to do that again. 

This was one day before my vacation. I cried a lot when I visited her gravesite that day. Still sometimes in disbelief she's gone. 

15. Tell one of their stories out loud. (Yes) 
My son sometimes asks me to stop reading books and just tell him a story while he falls asleep. I like to tell him stories of his Nonna and me when we were younger. Also, my eulogy at the funeral was quite therapeutic, including the writing of it. 

16. Watch the sunset and think about time differently. (Yes) 

Updated April 10 - I ended up doing this the same evening I wrote this post (April 7th). It made me realize that I have indeed been thinking about time differently. Ever since mom died I have been thinking that life truly is short and that we need to live in the moment and not take things for granted. Each action and decision should matter. Health matters. Everyone dies.  It is just a matter of time and we never know exactly when that time will be. 

The sunset was a little lacklustre and I was hoping for more, I had these high expectations. Perhaps that is a little symbolic of life and what I was hoping for mom. I remember saying six months before she passed that she hoped to live to the age of 90 and she was quite optimistic about it. Maybe that was just simply a facade to keep her children and grandchildren optimistic. I'll never know now. 

In looking at the photo above, I do realize that it was a pretty sunset, this was taken about 15minutes before the official sunset. I guess it is all about perception and being grateful for what we have. At one point there was a couple of birds dancing between the clouds in the opening you see there. It made me wonder if mom was there visiting with me as I stared up to the heavens. I miss you mom. 

17. Write down the lessons they left you with. (Kinda) 

This is kind of like the eulogy and obituary that I wrote. I would have to think harder to come up with a full list. 

18. Carry one of their habits forward. (Yes) 

Hmmm, I wonder what habits and traits of my mom that I have just inherently manifested in my life. Some of things I can think of are: 

• My kindness - I think I am a social worker partly because of how mom raised me. 
• Listening - people tell me I listen well (not my husband - lol) and my mom always listened with full attention and hardly interrupted people. I could improve on this I'm sure. 
• Financial literacy & saving habits - ironically I did this at my work and lo and behold, my mom was doing it for her full adulthood. I guess before I started working in a role about financial literacy, I did save up thousands of dollars to travel the world. I also never had to access any loans while I went to school, I have hardly had any debt in my life. This is partly due to my mom's financial sheltering of me and also her money management skills that somehow got passed on. 
• Frugality - this relates to the above. 
• Saving 'things' around the house. I would like to think I try to minimize my 'stuff' but if you open closets and storage rooms, you'll find lots of things I hoard. That is my mom, through and through. 
• Laugh lots - it is only in my mom's death and reviewing all my recorded videos of her did I realize that she laughed all the time and was full of positivity. I swear, in almost every video of her she is laughing about something. I actually don't think I laugh as much as her, but I'd like to think I bring some of the same joyful positivity into a room. 
• Filipino sayings - Ay Buhay, oh boy, ano bayan, and many more. 
• Lastly, I'm hoping that moving forward I can carry on some of her Christmas food traditions, such as Hinimay and hot chocolate. 

19. Forgive yourself for the things you wish you did differently. (Kinda) 

Ouch, this one hurts. I think the biggest thing is about spending more quality time with her. I can at least say I tried. I have noticed on the weekends there is a void to fill as we don't have the activity of visiting mom's house anymore. I notice there is a little more time to myself and our family. I remember at one point wishing that this would be the case, but oh boy, I take that back now.  One other thing I'll say is I regret back in November when my brother was on vacation for a week, we stayed at my Mom's house one night and I had an unpleasant experience with the bedroom and washroom. I was grumpy there, I didn't sleep well, and I was sick with a cold or something (or my son was - or maybe both of us). So the next day I told my mom that we won't stay there again and that we will just make time to visit her more during the week while my brother was away. Yes, we visited, but with work and toddler responsibilities we didn't stay very long. At one point we thought it would be a good idea for my mom to stay with us, but that idea was trumped because we said we'd stay with her. I remember how happy she was when I told her we'd do so. To have her grandson sleep in her house was always a wish of hers. Well... at least it happened, if only for one day. This was also the time that my mom was sick; the ailment that eventually took her life I'm assuming. I wish I was more patient and kind during that week. I hope I can forgive myself. 

This is one of the last photos I have of Mom and Isaac - taken November 1, 2025 at Mom's house. We have spent hours together at this dining table. 

20. Decide how you’re going to live the rest of your life with their memory. (Kinda) 

I think moving forward, we will continue to remember mom in different ways. I keep meaning to print a portrait of her for our house, something bigger than what we already have on our fridge and such. The video tribute, video series, home videos, and photographs will continue to be cherished and viewed on a regular basis. I am currently making a book for my son's 5th birthday to tell him his life story to this point and I will include a section of just him and his Nonna. My hope is that he remembers her when he grows up. He misses her and he doesn't really know how to process it. It saddens me that he's told me that he doesn't want me to die, and also that he only has one grandma left in a somewhat positive tone, almost like he is convincing himself that things are okay. Oh life... 

Christmas 2025, three days after we buried mom. I am very grateful to have our family surrounding us during that time. Everyone chipped in and cooked one of mom's famous recipes. When I tasted my Tita's version of my mom's Hinimay, I automatically started crying. I hope we continue to stay connected throughout the years without my mom here. 

Remembering the life of Norma, Nonna, Baby, Ats, Atche, or my personal favourite, Mom

Hello everyone,

Thank you all for being here today. I will try to keep to my script here, so please bear with me. For those who may not know me, I’m Norma’s favourite, and youngest child, Dean.

I believe this was at Glenmore Park where we would often have BBQ picnics with my Dad and his friends and coworkers. I'm guessing I'm 11ish years old here. 

I would like to start my eulogy by just sharing some random facts and memories of mom, in no particular order.

• When I was a kid, one of my regular and unusual tasks was plucking her white hairs with tweezers, and even the hairs from her armpits (or Kili-kili). I would carefully place each white hair onto a black surface so we could count them at the end. I don’t think any of my other siblings were ever given this odd responsibility. 
• Our family moved three times within the community of Queensland here in Calgary. Each one, Mom made feel like home and never showed any kind of stress unto her kids.
• We also lived in Texas for one year when I was five years old.
• Mom enjoyed gardening. A tree she planted at our townhouse is still there.
• Mom worked at a temp staffing agency for a long time. Often while driving her places, she would point at random buildings in the city and say, I worked there.
• She liked to experiment and try to cook and bake new things. She used to make our own halo halo dessert when we were kids
• Carlos and I have fondly nicknamed mom‘s house “Norma Mart”. If ever we needed any household supplies, we could always be sure to find extras at mom‘s house.
• Mom collected plastic grocery bags and had hundreds of them. I used to make fun of her for this, but it all paid off in the last few years once plastic bags were discontinued in stores.
• If ever I couldn’t find something, Mom was just simply say, “use your eyes”.
• If I didn’t know what a word meant, she’d say, “look it up”.
•  I used to use make an example of my mom’s financial literacy skills (and sometimes lack thereof) with regards to how to budget and save money in your household.
• The obituary says mom has four siblings. However, she actually has two siblings that were born before her and died.
• Two of mom‘s best friends are Tita Cora and Tita Virgie. Although they live in Toronto in the United States respectively, they would still talk on the phone for hours at a time. 
• Mom loved Frank Sinatra so much and on the day that I found out he died she was sleeping and I immediately went to her room to wake her up to give her the sad news. She was of course deeply saddened by it.
• I was often mom‘s chauffeur to take her grocery shopping and such. This one time there was some flash flooding in our townhouse complex and I was driving her and Tita Noy somewhere. I drove into a large puddle of water that I didn’t realize how deep it was and we we emerged in it with water filling into the backseat. Tita Noy was freaking out as she normally did and was screaming, and wanted to get out of the car. Mom and I were the level headed ones and tried to calm the situation. All was fine.
• The last random fact that I’ll share is that Mom and I regularly used to play Words with Friends online. She would play for hours with strangers around the world. One of the last things Mom did the night she passed away in her sleep was beat me in our final game – the score was 358 to 354. Good game, Mom.

Onto a more serious memory, when I was 15, I was caught stealing from Zellers with my best friend Jenny. I vividly remember how upset, disappointed, and angry my mom was. When she came to get me from the store, she pulled my ear so hard—a true Filipino pingot—and gave me heck. I’m fairly certain it wasn’t fear of the law that kept me from ever stealing or doing anything illegal again, but it was the fear and guilt of potentially disappointing my mother again. I knew deep down that she didn’t raise me to be that way. Overall, mom raised a wholesome family, grounded in her strong morals. I’m sure my decision to become a social worker had something to do with her upbringing of me.

If I had to describe my mom to a stranger, one of her strongest qualities was how caring and giving she was. She was steady and composed, even in difficult times. She accepted life as it came, and held her head high. She was very forgiving of others, despite the occasional grudge. She had a big heart and always felt a motherly obligation to help relatives whenever someone was facing hardship. She might have been frugal when it came to buying quality household goods, but when someone in the family was in need, she never hesitated to help.

At Mom's favourite Chinese restaurant, Gong Kee. This is a rare family pic with all six of us, including Lola. Circa 2000. 

My mom was also incredibly accepting of me for who I am. She never tried to change me, never pushed me toward a particular education or career path, and allowed me the freedom to travel the world and discover myself. In 2003, when I travelled for a year and a half, I sent her regular postcards and I always looked forward to reading her long emails describing life back home with some of the latest chismis (gossip). Even from far away, I could always feel her love.

When I told my mom that I was gay, her love for me overrode any deep-rooted thoughts, feelings, or beliefs she may have had. She loved me unconditionally, with her whole being. Not only did she accept me, but she welcomed Carlos into our family with open arms. I remember telling her about him while we were in the Philippines, and her immediate response was, “Is he nice? Let me see a picture.” When I later told her we were going to get legally married, she simply said that it was about time I settled down and was nothing but happy for us.

If I'm not mistaken, this photo is the day I came out of the closet to my family. September, 1998. 

My mom once said that one of the best things in the world was holding an innocent baby in her arms. I often wonder how many of us she cradled when we were babies. As most people know, she didn’t want to be called “Lola” because it made her feel old—she preferred the Italian word for grandmother, Nonna. And she was truly the best Nonna to Isaac. Watching her hold him and care for him was something special. I remember her falling asleep with him in her arms. Although she was often tired in recent years, Isaac brought her light, joy, and energy. Isaac will surely miss her laugh, her caring nature, her playfulness, and of course, her generosity with unlimited crackers and sweets at her house. Mom, we will do our best to keep Isaac’s nickname, “IC,” alive. For him, that name will always be tied to his Nonna.

A boy and his Nonna. 

I work in adult education, and in recent years I’m often asked to give celebratory remarks to program graduates, many of whom are immigrants. I frequently share that I am the son of immigrants and that I’ve been able to live a good life because my mom (and dad) came to Canada to build a better future for their family. I go on to tell the graduates that it wasn’t until my thirties that I truly understood the challenging uphill battle my mom faced as an immigrant, and how thankless and unrecognized that journey may have been by us, her children. I usually end those speeches by thanking the graduates on behalf of their children, who may never fully know how hard their parents worked to get to the point where they are now in their lives. I’ve given that speech many times, yet I don’t think I ever properly thanked my mom in person for everything she did for me and my siblings.

A young Norma & August doing touristy things in Toronto, visiting Niagra Falls. 

Last September, my mom was hospitalized in the Philippines with pneumonia. It was a terrifying time, and I truly thought I was going to lose her there. Neither of us wanted her to die in that hospital, let alone in the Philippines. Mom just kept saying she wanted to go home to Canada, over and over again.

Being with her in that hospital room 24/7 was incredibly difficult, watching her suffer through the pain of IVs, needles, and tasteless food she could barely eat, while fearing the unknown. And yet, as I reflect on those nine days, I can now look back on them with a smile. Despite everything, my mom and I had each other in that confined space. We spent our days playing Scrabble and talking about her life, her ups and downs, her family, her relationships, and her proudest moments. As mentioned in her obituary, she told me that immigrating to Canada, sponsoring relatives, and financially supporting her family back home was one of her greatest accomplishments. That was when I finally shared with her the graduation speech I had told to so many others, but never her, and thanked her for providing us with the life she did.

I am deeply grateful for that moment. In the end, being stuck in that hospital room with Mom was actually priceless and I will always hold it close to my heart.

The day mom got released from the hospital. Hallelujah! 

Dear Mom, if you can hear me wherever you are, please know how deeply you are loved—by me and by the countless lives you touched with your kindness. If I could turn back time, I would visit you more often, let you eat more junk food, take you to more Chinese restaurants, hug you tighter, and tell you how much I love you every single time I saw you. Thank you for giving me the best life you could. Thank you for shaping me into the gentleman that I am. Thank you for loving Carlos, Isaac, Autumn, and Winnie. You can finally get some good rest now. Rest well, my dear, dear mom. I love you.

I am so grateful that we took this family trip together. It's the first time I've been on vacation with my brother, sister, mom (and everyone else) in a very long time. Mabla flew to Canada with the boys in June, 2025 rather than Christmas time as I kind of predicted that mom wouldn't be around that long due to her kidney failure. Mabla and the boys ended up coming in December nonetheless to say goodbye to mom. Bittersweet. 

My Dear Mom - Norma "Baby" Sanchez Estrella 1939 - 2025

Oh Mom... we are nearing the four month mark since your passing. Happy Easter to you, wherever your soul maybe laying to rest. Now that I have some time, I'm going to do some blogging. Here's your obituary that I wrote just for you.  It is also found on the Eden Brook Memorial website. 

With love, Deannie 

**************************************** 

We are deeply saddened to announce the passing of Norma “Baby” Sanchez Estrella, age 86, of Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Norma passed away peacefully in her sleep in her Calgary home on December 12, 2025, where she lived with her eldest son.

Norma was born on February 27, 1939, in Manila, Philippines, to Dominador Sanchez and Pilar Fulgencio Sanchez. She grew up with joyful yet humble beginnings, surrounded by her four siblings and large extended family. A true trailblazing immigrant, Norma was the first in her family to immigrate to Canada in the 1960s. Soon after, she sponsored two of her siblings, as well as extended family and friends, to join her abroad. After establishing a life in Canada, she financially supported her parents and family back home, helping them build a more secure and fruitful life. In addition to raising a beautiful family of her own, this remains one of her proudest accomplishments and enduring legacies.

With an educational background in office administration, Norma held various roles throughout her career, including secretary, legal assistant, and administrator, working in Makati, Toronto, and Calgary. For the final 20 years of her career, she was a dedicated civil servant with the City of Calgary, working until the age of 69, when she finally decided to retire. Her organizational skills carried seamlessly into her personal life, she was always the financially responsible one in the family, known for planning ahead, and always remembering birthdays and anniversaries.

As the story goes, Norma was courted and eventually convinced to go on a first date by Augusto Estrella at a Sears retail store in Toronto. They were married on February 7, 1970. Their son David was born in 1971, and in 1974 the family moved to Calgary, where Mabel and Dean were born and raised with the loving support of Norma’s aunt, Teresa.

Norma will always be remembered for her gentle soul, lighthearted kindness, generosity, and selflessness in caring for her family near and far, all rooted in her devoted Catholic faith. She was a quiet philanthropist, faithfully supporting multiple charities across the country. Giving was simply part of who she was.

A dedicated homemaker, there was no task she would not take on. This included sewing multiple matching outfits from the same fabric, cutting (and occasionally perming) her children’s hair until their ears and necks were itchy and red, driving to the shopping mall at 35 km/hour while choosing the farthest parking stall to avoid other vehicles, meticulously cutting coupons, and of course, cooking delicious, hearty meals. She loved preparing traditional Filipino dishes and desserts and was especially known for her hinimay, mechado, bola-bola, menudo, and her take of blintzes from Eastern Europe. Norma would never turn down Chinese food or sweets like halo-halo or bibingka, and her face would light up at just the thought them.

Norma adored music. It was her dream to play the organ and piano like a master and wished her kids would follow suit, to her dismay. Frank Sinatra and other crooners filled the house on weekends, with Norma often singing along. Her playful spirit extended to games such as Scrabble, Words with Friends, Bingo, and cards. If not physically playing, she could often be found watching game shows like Jeopardy or, in earlier years, cheering passionately at WWE wrestling, shouting at the television like a devoted sports fan. She also enjoyed any and every action film.

Norma laughed often, kept positive, and rarely got upset. If she did though, you better watch out for her flimsy slipper or for her stern warning, “I’ll give him a piece of my mind!”. She was a homebody content in her space but enjoyed the company of her family and close friends, often on the phone or video chatting with some for hours at a time. A great listener, she rarely interrupted and would often empathize with her unique verbal nods in Tagalog.

Norma is lovingly remembered by her son David (Crystal), daughter Mabel (Shawn), son Dean (Carlos), three grandsons Jasper Cole “JC”, Ruben, and Isaac “IC”, her brother Carlos (Benelida), sister Pilar (Reynaldo), and many nieces and nephews (Lauren, Michael, Jon, Anne, RJ, Jen, Bobby, Rowena), their respective children and multiple other relatives in the Philippines and United States. She is predeceased by her husband Augusto, sister Elnora, brother Roberto, and nephew Ronald.

Family and friends are invited to a Prayer Service and Tribute, followed by a reception, on Sunday, December 21, from 7:00 to 9:00pm at Eden Brook Funeral Home. Those unable to attend in person are invited to join Norma’s Prayer and Tribute via livestream (see link below). A recording of the service will be made available afterward.

https://my.forever.link/register/EdenBrookFuneralHome/norma-estrella 

A Funeral Mass will be held on Monday, December 22, at 2:00pm at Eden Brook Funeral Home, followed by burial and reception.

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” ~ Maya Angelou

Tell me your life story in 5 minutes or less.

Fair Gains Graduation - getting to know my participants is a joy and honour.

I cried at work today.  Actually, I cried yesterday as well. I find myself getting more passionate and emotional around work related issues lately.  Let's explore.

You know, when I started working at this job, supporting people on low incomes through financial literacy training programs, I didn't think that I was that involved in the social issue of poverty.  I first entered social work because of my travel experiences in poverty stricken countries and my heart always went out to immigrants and refugees living in Canada.  Let's face it, most immigrants and refugees go through some form of poverty in Canada as newcomers.

Yesterday, I held a bunch of one to one interviews with my program participants that are now at their half way point of their one year program.  This is honestly the best part of my job, but it can also be the most emotionally draining for me.  I don't know what it is, but I have this effect on people that allows them to open up and share freely about themselves, their lives, their successes, and of course, their struggles through life, past and current ones.  It all starts with my opening question, "Tell me your life story in 5 minutes or less".

Of course, some will keep it simple and share only small portions of their story. And others, well, they take the opportunity to actually open up and release some inner pain and anguish that perhaps they've been holding on to for quite some time. There is something powerful in letting someone just talk freely while someone sits on the other side of that round table and just simply listens.

Yesterday, as in the past, I listened to some courageous individuals tell some horrific tales of despair.  I am in awe of them. I am honoured to know them. I am proud to be a part of their lives. The one thing that is so common among them is their resiliency to keep going. Their strength to find the positive aspects within their darkened situations.

And so yesterday I cried a little. I cried when the refugee woman whom I've known for the last 6 months told me about how her 8 year old son stood beside his father and while he was murdered in their war torn country and sat with him for the next 10 hours until help arrived. I almost cried when the single mother was telling me how she was almost being evicted, yet again, but she told me with a smile on her face and with pride in her soul. I almost cried when the professional immigrant told me how she left her home country because she found the bravery to leave her husband after he emotionally abused her and that she had to lose custody to her only son because in her country there is no such thing as joint custody.

And today, today I cried as well. I cried because my one participant who has applied into a high profile program and has a heart of gold, will not be accepted into the program despite all of his hard work and efforts.  This man is like a buddha, so serene and positive, sending positive thoughts and gratitude everywhere he goes.  So, I haven't told him yet, but as a committee we have made the decision that it is not in his best long term interest to be a part of my program.  However, after our committee meeting, as I was wrapping up to go home due to my on-coming illness creeping in, my two co-workers pop up at my door with excitement.  They bear a gift for me, a small box with a happy face balloon, a card, and some candy.  I wonder, what the heck am I getting a gift for?  I open it, and lo and behold it is from the buddha.  He graduates on Monday and wanted to give me a thank you gift for being his teacher for the last year and goes on to tell me how wonderful of a soul I have.  And so, I cried.  I cried perhaps due to guilt because I know that I will have to eventually give him that dreaded phone call that he probably knows deep down will be coming.  I cried because he himself is the wonderful soul. He inspires me, and the beauty of it, the beauty of all the participants I encounter at my work, inspire me to be a better person, to be strong, resilient, and positive.

I sometimes wonder if I am the only one like this at my work.  Do my other colleagues not face the same challenges as I do?  Do I not practice enough boundaries with my participants?  Should I not have deep conversations about their life in our interviews, whereby I won't fully understand them as a person, and consequently not be able to support them achieve their goals?  Am I simply too emotional?  Is it wrong to be passionate and show compassion to others?  At what point do I build a thick skin, or cease to care? Are those two the same thing?  Am I on the edge of burn out? Would my job be as rewarding if I didn't care?

I don't have any regrets. I wish I could wave a magic wand and solve all their problems, but where would be the life appreciation in that?  We need struggles in life in order to appreciate the good stuff, correct?  After all, that's what brought me to social work in the first place, my own struggles with my identity.  And so, I'll go back to work on Monday. I'll have my graduation with my other class that's finished their 1 year and I'll tell them what I've told you today.  I'll tell them that they inspire me and help to me grow in ways that they may never realize.  I'll tell them that they are resilient human beings ready to conquer anything that comes their way.  And then I'll wish, and hope, and maybe even pray, that they truly do succeed and that I don't hear that their struggles have continued after they've gone through this life changing program.

Oh yeah, that's why. (Calgary, Canada)

Well after a day of ups and downs, which included going to a doctor again who suggested I may have a viral infection of some sort, getting blood work done (I hate needles), a volunteer job interview for a position working as a gay men's support group facilitator , I ended it with my first cultural diversity workshop in over a year. Ahhh, it was like riding a bike. Felt as comfortable up there as ever. As I listened to some of the comments in the classroom, and as I gave my little inspirational talks, I remembered why I love my job. I needed that as a boost to keep me going for the next while. Nothing beats having a class in front of you, ears perked, eager to be inclusive, eager to make change in this somewhat down trodden world of ours.

Taken Nov. 4 2012 by my coworker and friend, Amanda by the Leighton Art Centre. (Uploaded after the post was written).  

The Plateau (Calgary, Canada)

After a small hiatus, I've decided to just keep going, keep writing.  I think in my head, my mental and emotional brain, I've told myself that my adventure, my journey is over. And is it? Not really, although my new-old life seems to pale in comparison to my 53 weeks of traveling.

Taken in Miami, my last stop before Calgary. 

So where to start? I've been home sick for nearly a full week, but have thankfully gone out a little here and there, even to work. Gee, I've been back to my old job for only 2 weeks and have already had to take two sick days. Strep throat sucks and I think all this seclusion is making me go nutty. Then again, perhaps all this time alone at home is a good thing for me. It's the most I've been at home ever since I've returned to Canada.

Returning home to Canada I knew was going to be rough, I had these expectations already. Living at home with my mother and my brother is something I'm no longer accustomed to, seeing as though I've lived on my own (or with my ex) for the last 12 or so years. I feel somewhat jailed, exiled in the South East of Calgary, haunted by childhood memories as I drive, walk, and run through my neighborhood. I wonder if I'm the only one of my childhood friends that still lives around here. I wonder if I can grab my bike and ride up to their homes, ring the doorbell and ask if they can come out and play. I wouldn't mind it actually. I wouldn't mind a friend that lives close by. But no, the majority of my friends are living inner city, or with their families in their big houses somewhere in the burbs. But not here.

Everything seems so anti-climactic. The dream should have continued on. I should be in Brazil or Africa by now. But no, I am at my old job, in the same position, in the same office, with the same phone number, email, and contacts. Where's the challenge? Where's the adventure? What exactly is the next part of my journey? I feel like I have regressed. I feel like I have awaken from a coma, I wake up and it is simply just a different date on the newspaper heading, everything seems quite familiar but just a bit weary to me.

Where do I go from here? How do I continue to go up? Am I traveling through a plateau?

Oh, and then there's the fact that I'm single. Traveling and being single was cool. Living life in one spot on my own, well that is something I am having to re-adjust to as well.  The gay community in Calgary is small, conservative, and almost non-existent it seems. Okay, I exaggerate a little, but in comparison to big cities like Lima, Bogota, Medellin, Buenos Aires, or even Montreal, Vancouver and Toronto, Calgary is a faint attempt.

Well, let that set the tone for entries to come. Will I go up, will I go down? Or will I just simply continue to plateau?