Hello Derek, Thanks for taking the time for some private words to me and also for continuing to bravely share yourself on the website. Once again you have wowed me with your honesty, depth, great heart, and this time some humour! I have made a copy of the website (attached) which includes the card from the service and the newspaper write up. There may be friends who would appreciate it, although it is still a work in progress. I have shared it with several friends who are supporting very ill people, and also shared it with Peter and my daughters. At some later date you might want to think about publishing the site as a magazine article or small publication. Because you are a humble man you may not realize just how extraordinary it is, and also how helpful and inspiring it could be to others. Sharing your process is a huge gift that you and Lin have given us all, and one that you could continue to give if you can keep writing about it. Not that I think you “should”, since you need to do what ever works for you; but if journaling helps, it sure would be valuable for others.
Yours is a difficult task, right now, but one you will survive and grow through. I know she's with us, especially you, because I feel her presence all around me in both nature and in my thoughts. Though I wish we could see and hear her more clearly, I understand this passage as something we all face eventually. So I send you my love and hope that your strength will carry you through the hard times into the light, with the help of those who care.
I'll continue to read the journal because it gives me hope and strength and I thank you for your perseverance with it--perhaps it will serve your needs in some way too.
With heartfelt wishes--
Journal Entry Seven - May 17, 2007 by Derek
The pine tree is tilted dramatically towards the shore, its sparse
branches slicked back like some kind of modern hairdo. I imagine this
tree understands what I feel, as I sit for a moment like I would with a
long-time friend. In front of me are the crashing waves of the Pacific
Ocean, the sound pleasantly deafening. I am here at Long Beach, as far
west as you can be in Canada, and I have come to grieve.
On Saturday, May 12 at 9:00pm, Lin, the greatest love of my life, returned back to the light where
she began. I sit here searching for balance in the inevitable
polarities. There is a deep pain in my heart, and it seems like I will
never be able to stop this crying. Strange anguished sounds erupt from
my throat blending with the deafening waves. Then almost without
notice the pendulum of my emotions swings again. Like this tree beside
me I feel deep rooted, calm and centred. I am thankful that Lin is at
peace; no longer can that cruel merciless disease inflict pain on her
body. I feel blessed to have walked hand in hand for almost fifteen
years with an angel. Yes it is true: her body has left me. I know we
can't hold hands as we did many years ago on these beaches, but there
is a smile knowing she is here with me now.
I will be eternally grateful for all of our friends and family who
supported us in the last six months. Every day I would read the
letters and emails and the outpouring of love you had for her. There
were times for me when I didn't want to share some of the intimate
moments in this journey. But we both agreed it was the best way to
return your love. At the end Lin wanted you to know that she finally
understood how loved she was. She whispered, "I am ready."
I am with you still - I do not sleep,
I am the thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
So do not think of me as gone -
I am with you still -
in each new dawn.
- Hopi prayer