Winter

As winter creeps in Orion climbs higher into the night skies, I am surrounded by grief. My father and both of my boys, Kerouac and Harvey, passed during the cruelest season. None of them were fans of winter, but we all made the most of it

I find winter has become a season of reflection for me. It began with my Kerouac. Kerouac was a short haired mix that preferred the warmer months. The hair on his back and butt stood up in cold weather as an added layer of protection against the cold. I always said that he had a “chilly bum” when it stood up like that. As he grew older, he and I would take long walks during the cold night. Wandering the streets and alley ways around our home. Walking under the close watch of Orion and the winter moon. The only sound was the crunch of our feet on the snow and the occasional word of support I spoke tor my aging boy. Asking him if he had had enough and wanted to go home. Walking ahead of my, he would look back over his shoulder as if saying “I’m OK Papa, let’s keep going”. I always imaging my dogs calling me Papa. During his last winter the walks became shorter and slower, but every bit as important as any previous walk. The continued to connect he an I and ensured that his world did not shrink around him. I would have preferred to have not have say good bye to him during the cold season – but that was not my choice. He passed just after the New Year and the day before my first dog Kate’s birthday.

My father was born on the Winter Solstice in Northern Ontario which I think predestined him to not like winters. He enjoyed skiing when I was younger, and he and I spent many days together on the slopes, encouraging each other trying to help the other a better skier. My father passed in December. I was on a ferry travelling to be by his side when I got the call that I wouldn’t make it in time. The call that told me my last parent had gone. I made the trip to my father’s house to say goodbye to him and the town I grew up in, as the last of my connections to this place were gone. I knew I had my Harvey back at my home, waiting for me. To support and love me when I got back to him. And when I did, we spent long winter nights in silent discussions of life and loss while under the watchful eye of the winter moon. He supported my quietly and unwaveringly.

Harvey also passed during the winter which led to me having anticipatory grief flashbacks as we entered into this journey again. Harvey loved the cold but not the snow, as it stuck to his feet that were designed for hot desert sands, not snow. He would lay on the front porch on the coldest days. Protesting, when forced to come inside at night. The winter Harvey passed was warm, which meant he could be outside on the covered deck most of the time. During those winter nights, when we weren’t out walking, I would lie on the deck with him. My head resting on his back – I loved laying like this and had done it since he came into my life. I liked to feel him under me – breathing and being close. I think he liked it as well. Harvey passed the day after Katie’s birthday so now I have three days in January which leads to a lot of mixed emotions.

Going into this winter with none of them is hard this year. My heart hurts. My mind spins. My house seems especially empty. My winter work schedule is slow so I have an excess of free time which leads to me to overthinking and diving into dark periods that seem hopeless and endless. At time I would give my life to be with any of them again. To share the love and laughter and silence that we all loved. I look into the winter sky looking for the Northern Star – a place I always promised Kerouac I would look for him. A place that has become a target of my focus during these dark periods. I can stand, looking up, talking to them and smiling and sharing my thoughts and wishes for them.