Grandmothers Gift

The year 2020 … boy, what a time that was. The year of a pandemic that caused a global shut down. COVID-19 was a newly discovered airborne virus. Everything was shut down to ‘flatten the curve’ as they said. All concerts and major sports had been cancelled. Restaurants and local shops closed their doors. Borders shut down keeping all flights grounded. Everything ceased in what felt like a moments notice. This virus was spreading like wild fire, killing those infected at an alarming rate. Many had already lost their jobs. Some were forced to leave their job and stay home to take care of their families. Those who had a job, were accommodated to work at home as much as possible. High school seniors had to finish their grad year online and forfeit a graduation ceremony. University courses moved to online only. Even kindergarten moved to online check-ins once a week. COVID-19 saturated the media. The world’s top doctors came out with new information daily about the dangers and unknowns of this new virus. They claimed the symptoms matched that of the common cold or flu. If you had any symptoms you were to self quarantine in your home for 14 days. It was a dark and grim place.

I had recently moved to a small mountain town in Northern BC, by the name of Smithers. I was 1500km from where I grew up, having left my friends and family back in Calgary, AB. When I had made the move, I saw nothing more than a great adventure and new opportunities. After the shell shock of the immediate change to my daily activities faded, I was grateful for my choices. I worked as a lifeguard in pools all my life and landed a great job at the local recreation center. Barely 6 months later, this pandemic hit and pools began shutting down everywhere. Back home all pools were closed and the lifeguards had been laid off indefinitely. As for me, the small town choice provided refuge. Our Northern isolation made it hard to recruit and keep staff. That meant when our pool closed they kept all full-time staff in administrative positions, which included me. I had a job and it felt stable - a certainty in uncertain times. I thanked God everyday for my blessings.

As time went on and the virus spread, travel became frowned upon. There were stories of vehicles being vandalized when spotted in other provinces. During all of this, I wondered if and when I would ever see my family again. Out of everyone in my family, my Grandmother and I were particularly close. When I made this move, I didn’t realize how much I would miss her. She was 92, and I began to understand that any day could be her last. I remember our last moments together, tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. She wrapped her arms around me and called me brave for heading into this new life with no hesitations. I embraced her love and walked away with confidence in my heart.

My Grandmother was the type that had a presence. A force of nature, in the most beautiful way. She held the reputation of one able to predict the future, to the smallest detail. You would hear the words “look where you’re going!” being yelled across the street and seconds later you would find a child on a bicycle speed out from behind a parked car. Then there were bigger life events, ones that took time to unveil themselves. She told my Mother when my sister was born, that she would be part if the LGBTQ2S movement. Grandmother was right. She had a way of giving you confidence, providing direction, or just simply giving you space to let go and be.

One of my most vivid memories of my Grandmother, was that every night before bed, she would sit in her pink lounge chair in her living room with a cup of tea. She would partake in the same routine every night, lighting some candles and turning the lights down low. Her diffuser filled the room with scents of sage and lavender and her calming music played in the background. Once she had settled, the little black book she used as a journal became her companion for the night. As a child I didn’t really think much of it, but as I grew older, I realized the joy of journaling and how it provided a freshness to the soul. I would never again bear witness to this nightly tradition of hers.

At some point during the pandemic, my Grandmother began to feel ill with what seemed like the flu. Naturally she called the health line and described her symptoms “MA’AM, you need to self quarantine for the full 14 days” the man on the other line said matter of factly. Three days into the quarantine, the shortness of breath started settling in. That night, it became so severe, she had no choice but to call for an ambulance. When they arrived at the hospital the beds were full and the ventilators were all taken. They did their best to make her comfortable with what was available, which wasn’t much. No friends or family were allowed in the hospital to visit those needing treatment. They would stand outside windows to see their loved ones. Some brought guitars and sang, while others brought pictures and talked on the phone as they stood outside. People were doing everything they possibly could to try and show their support.

June 2020 my Grandmothers battle had ended and her life was no more. I was in despair. There was nothing I could do and no way for me to get home. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. Even my family that lived near by felt powerless. They shipped her off to the mortuary where they cremated her and “COVID-19” in bold black ink stamped her death certificate. Funeral services were not permitted at that time, which meant no proper good-byes. A grief like that is just not human. The worst part was, thousands that were experiencing this same feeling.

I found myself thinking about my Grandmother often. I had so many memories of her and all her things. I felt a particularly strong connection to her pink lounge chair. I asked my Mother ship it to me so I could sit in it and write in my journal as she had. I wanted to have something about her live on, so that one day I would be able to tell my children about where my nightly routine came from. There was also a little wind chime made of brass with a blue bird on it. When I saw it, it immediately reminded me of her because that was her favorite bird. I sent it to her my first Christmas away. After I had moved, sending gifts home became important and helped me to feel close to her.

A week or so after she had passed, I was walking down the street, contemplating what life would be like after the pandemic. Was it going to be some sort of waste land? Will we have to be in hazmat suits when we walk around or go into stores? Different thoughts and scenarios kept running through my mind. The fear mongering all over the media didn’t help. I tried not to watch. I was walking past a school playground and noticed that someone had wrapped ‘CAUTION’ tape around the outer edges to show they were closed. I stood there and let my inner child play. My soul remembered the pure joy of being on the swings and having your friend give you an under duck. Or laying on the tire swing and doing an around the world. A smile came across my face as a little blue bird came whisping in, and sat himself right on the swing I was looking at. A spark bolted through my body. Suddenly I could feel my Grandmothers presence. I closed my eyes and turned towards the sun, breathing it in. After a few moments, I opened my eyes and looked down. Right there, caught underneath the fence was a white piece of paper. A Lottery ticket of all things. Purchased yesterday, with no signature. What are the odds?

As fate would have it, that lottery ticket ended up winning me $20,000. The total surprise of that influx in my finances was utterly shocking, especially during a pandemic. How did I get so fortunate? Honestly though, I kept my job in recreation AND won $20,000? So many around me were struggling. Many had no jobs, and some were relying on government benefit cheques of only $2000/month. I don’t know anyone who could live on that comfortably. It was as if my Grandmother had gifted it to me.

There was no way I could keep it all to myself. I was by no means rich, but I was able to afford my needs. I set aside a chunk for savings and gave a portion to my parents. The rest I decided to give back. One thing the community was doing for each other, was putting care baskets together and dropping them off at random houses. Lifting spirits anonymously with baskets full of wine, snacks and possibly a few homemade nick-knack’s. I decided to follow along with this trend and added in gift cards for gas and groceries. I wanted to help in whatever way I could. I placed them in envelopes that said “Thinking of you” with a big heart and off I went.

As I was driving, I could barely believe what I saw. A little blue bird swooped down as if my Grandmothers spirit was guiding me. It lead me everywhere - new sections, old sections, trailer parks, and the seniors building. A wave of elation spread over me as we moved through town delivering these gifts. I couldn’t think of a better way to ‘Work Together’ as the Prime minister himself kept asking of the nation. It felt like Grandmother had given us all a gift and her death was not in vain.

That evening, I made some tea, and settled down in Grandmothers pink lounge chair. I had been enjoying this nightly routine. It some how kept my spirit grounded in this uncertain time. As I was writing in my journal, I could feel something under the cushion. That’s weird, I hadn’t noticed it before. I reached under to feel around and pulled out a little black book. I opened it up to discover it was one of my Grandmothers journals. I could hardly believe it! My heart was racing with excitement as I laid my eyes on the first page and read;

“My darling, let me tell you about the year 2020…”