defining joy

If happiness is a butterfly, joy is the wisp of wind it creates. Both can be so elusive at times, and all too often impossible to find. Circumstances work against us and we forget that happiness is a choice, an attitude, and joy is the gift.

Joy found its way into my life last weekend. It has taken me awhile to find the words to express it.

The last Thursday of April I took a trip to Lethbridge with the intent of attending a sentencing hearing for the stepfather. I believed that it was my last chance in convincing him to let me bury my mom.

Previously, I had had some hope that I could get the urn because it was in an unpaid storage bin that the owners were going to cut the lock off of due to the amount that was in arrears. They told me that they would let me look through that bin for the urn when the time came. Sadly, when I inquired later, in turned out that the stepfather had managed to find the money to bring the payments up to date, and then had cleared out the contents.

At the time, I felt so disheartened. It was the last avenue available to me that I could see, as all other legal means had failed. But I prayed for peace, and not only found it, but also felt like I just needed to be patient. Patience is not always my strongest point, but I am learning to quit fighting against the things I don’t know and don’t understand – I am finally learning how to let things be what they will. Hopefully the lessons will remain with me.

The trip down to Lethbridge gave me very red eyes – I’m certain that the security guys at the courthouse weren’t quite sure what to make of it. I don’t recall when I have ever cried that much. It was like all the pain that I have felt in regards to life with mom and the step father, and life in general….all hit in that two hour trip.

I felt very uncertain as to how I should or would feel seeing the step father for the first time since he locked me in his trailer after mom died and assaulted me. I didn’t know what my reaction should be, or what I should choose. It was two hours of a great deal of conflicting emotions and thoughts. Admittedly, I felt a great deal of trepidation. I’m still not sure how I managed to not turn back and go home. To run away from the fear of what might happen again.

I began to pray that I would act in a way that I could be proud of, that my family would be proud of. That I would bring honor to those I loved, rather than demean myself to a level of being unkind and abusive in return. I prayed that I could forgive, completely, a lifetime of the same.

I mention this because I have had a lot of people “advise” me on what I should do when I saw him next — so many suggested that I get in his face and tell him just the kind of person that he really was. That wasn’t a choice I was comfortable with. It felt not only wrong, but too much in the vein of “eye for an eye”. That isn’t how I want to live my life or who I want to be.

Because he had not chosen to attend my mom’s memorial, I took a copy of the slideshow with me. It became the icebreaker.

I didn’t even recognize him when I first saw him, it only registered that it was him after I had turned away and walked towards the family that came with me. I contemplated what I should do while we walked into the courtroom to sit and wait for things to begin.

I realized that I probably appeared rude and didn’t want that to set a precedence for this meeting with him. So I took the DVD and went looking for him. It didn’t take long, and I was seated beside him where he sat alone; I wondered if anyone could tell how much I was shaking.

I told him about the DVD and that I thought he might like a copy since he hadn’t seen it yet. He thanked me and said he would really like that. I asked him how he was doing — and he hummed and hawwed and finally said that he guessed he was in a bit of a mess.

I didn’t disagree. But then I told him that I knew that he would never have meant for his friend to have died while under his care. Accusing him of intentional neglect never seemed right. Selfish neglect perhaps. But not intentional.

He thanked me for believing that, and for the first time in all the 20 years I’ve known him, he admitted that he had made a lot of bad choices and was now facing the consequences of it.

He then told me that he had kept the urn safe and that maybe we should think about burial. I told him that I would be happy to cover all the costs. He said we should maybe talk about it — I offered to take him for lunch to have that conversation.

I tried not to let myself get my hopes up, tried to brace myself for the inevitable let down, tried to keep aloof so as not to show any weakness or emotion. Yet, looking at the frail, withered and age-stooped man that he has become, I began to feel all the pain and hurt and anger and agony of so many years, begin to soften. I began to feel compassion seep into my heart. I no longer felt a need to keep myself safe behind walls. He simply had no more power to hurt me anymore, and sitting there, in that moment I knew it.

And, honestly, there was no way that I could do any more harm to him, that he had not already done to himself. There was nothing I could do to punish him for two decades of pain, that he hadn’t already inflicted on himself. There was no longer a need to prepare for battle the way that used to be so commonplace for me when interacting with him.

For a very brief and illuminating moment, I saw within myself the weight of all that I carried because of this man, and suddenly I felt myself forgive and let it go. For both of us. It was the most freeing moment in my life.

It has not come back. It is simply over and with the opportunity to bury my mom, I have found a peace with a past marked by more pain than happiness. And yet, with letting go of the hurt, it is easier to find those fleeting moments of laughter and smiles in the past with those I love.

That Thursday was not incident free. Despite agreeing to talk to me over lunch, he instead refused to go to after all. But, with the feelings of anger gone, I changed tactics, acknowledged that the events in the courtroom were understandably overwhelming and would he prefer to meet on the Saturday while I was down in the city again for a wedding this time. He expressed appreciation and that that time would work better for him.

I confess that I was not at all confident that he would meet me then either. Enough experiences over enough years have taught me the unpredictability of this person. This time, though, that unpredictability worked in my favor.

That Saturday…..the most amazing miracle happened. That day….he simply came over to my uncle’s home and handed me a burgundy velvet bag without any argument, without any fuss, without any fanfare or emotion.

Initially I did not even know what I was holding. It wasn’t until he asked me if I would still include him in on the proceedings that I realized that I was finally holding the urn that I had fought so hard to get. That finally, all the days and moments struggling with feeling like I had let her down, that I was failing to keep the promise I had made to her before she died that I would ensure she was buried with my sister…..all those moments were suddenly behind me.

It was such a strange moment, that when he left, I turned to my uncle and asked him if he knew what I was holding. He said he did. I could only stare at the bag — I didn’t know how to feel or react — should I laugh or cry or jump up and down, or what?….

He didn’t seem to have an answer to that anymore than I did.

It has been a little over a week since I have had my mom’s urn and have been able to begin making the arrangements for the cement capstone to be removed from my sister’s and grandmother’s grave. It isn’t a cheap process, but at least the wheels are moving now. (Update: Unfortunately, due to poor weather and the amount of rain I was not able to proceed with my plans this year because the equipment needed to lift the cement capstone couldn’t get into the cemetary – perhaps next year will work better.)

Regardless, it is the best feeling in the world, to know that I made the right choices towards this. That I was able to forgive when it was so important to do it, when the only thing in it for me was letting go, to put to rest a promise, and to move forwards. The gift has been a chance to heal and a sense of peace that has been long sought for.

Even better, though, has been the freedom that I feel, a weightlessness and sense of joy that I can’t ever remember feeling before. I dreamt of my parents this past weekend, I dreamt of the farm where I grew up — a farm that inhabits my dreams a great deal in conjunction with my family. This time though, the dream was about locking the doors behind us and making sure we were passing the keys to the next person.

It was a very strange dream, a very symbolic dream. Memories of my childhood on the farm were very coveted because they contained the happiest moments in my life, happiness that was often harder to be found as I got older due to the circumstances in my life.

Now I feel like the greatest happiness is ahead of me. That there is much in life now to find and explore and it is now my life to do that with.

I have kept the two biggest promises I have ever made — one was to my dad who, when he died, asked me to look after my mom and not give up on her; the second was to see my mom laid to rest with my sister.

I guess maybe I am more patient than I think I am. Certainly neither of these promises was quickly or easily kept. I can remember wondering so many years ago, what life would look like without that first promise. I guess I’m learning that now. It is maybe not the way I imagined it, but then whose life really works out exactly the way they imagined as a child.

I have always believed that life is good, and still believe that today. My life is now an empty cup ready to be filled with whatever I choose — happiness, joy, love, friendship, sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. Perhaps that’s a little too pollyanna. I expect there will be just as many obstacles to overcome and days when I think grumpiness is a virtue…but the only promises to keep now are the ones I make to myself.

That’s a wonderful feeling. Starting out fresh, with a new slate and feeling peace and joy and hope — seems like a great new beginning. I’ll deal with obstacles later.