Random stuff, reflections on the meaning of life and death, humour, self-deprecation, a bit of bad poetry.

When you reach middle-age, you think about death a little more. Having lived more than half the average life span, the pressure is on to live more fully. We tick off our bucket list items and attempt to declutter both our physical space and spiritual space.

Internally, our authentic self, still in its chrysalis stage, simmers beneath the surface. Unlike the butterfly, however, there is no guarantee that metamorphosis will occur in us because let’s face it, it’s hard to change who we are on the inside, even as our shell wrinkles and softens.

When my maternal grandmother died, my mother, having already lost two siblings tragically, shed few tears in front of us. I was fourteen at the time and inconsolable. I remember being surprised by her stoicism and asking her about it. Her explanation was that life makes you hard, and though I believed her then, I’m not so sure I do any more.

In my twenties and thirties, I read a lot about death and grief, attended palliative care conferences, and learned through trial and error how to comfort others. Admittedly, it was easier to manage grief back then, being further removed from death as imminent. I lost grandparents overseas, far away aunts and uncles, beloved pets and coped. Later on, I survived lost loves, and the end of a marriage, mainly because I managed to keep those who are dear to me in my life. My inner circle remains intact.

I find middle-age to be a paradox. So many aspects are liberating, yet it is also a slow and painful letting go. We say goodbye to parts of us we have lost and the way we used to be, to dreams we may have abandoned. There is an acute awareness of our own mortality and the fact that some of the people we love dearly are closer to dying than we are.

Is there still time to save the world?

Ian hates it when I say, “One person always leaves first.”, but I want to be prepared for the inevitable farewell. I want to face it head on.

Today he was looking through some files and came across a poem that his mother had written on her birthday, the first without her beloved husband, David. He read out loud to me and its beauty, the longing and wistfulness of it, made me weep.

Ian gave me permission to post it here. It was written by Jean Hanchet on August 27th, 2002. (Ian’s dad had died earlier that year on March 17th.) The picture features Ian and not his dad. Apparently his mum often mistook him for his dad as her Alzheimer’s progressed. Until she noticed the long hair that is.

My Birthday Poem
Down the long labyrinth
  of days I search
      the winding path
Dew drenched green grass
   we trod, so long together
        where are you now?
While I am lost, alone
    I long to see your face 
      around some bend
To hold you in my arms
  to share your place
      but where?
Illusion grows, tears flow
   when in a dream’s deep sleep
        a corner turns
I see you there, your jacket’s old
   but somehow new,
      sun drenched and real.
You live, alive and well
     all joy receive.

— Jean Hanchet (August 27th, 2002)

5 thoughts on “Maze

  1. Boy Blue says:

    Everything passesEverything changesJust do what you think you should doAnd someday maybeWho knows, babyI'll come and be cryin' to you-Bob Dylan


  2. Brenda W says:

    … You expressed some of my inter turmoil beautifully…


  3. Abby says:

    You always impress me with your insight and sensitivity. Thank you for writing this. I too am of \”the age\” where thoughts of endings are more frontal than thoughts of the past. Namaste my friend.


  4. It is reassuring to know I am not alone when it comes to this preoccupation.


  5. Thanks for stopping by, Abby, and for your kind words. Working on mindfulness and not living too much in the future. ❤️


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Family In the 2020s

Cool Family Ideas




Make an impression wherever you go!

A Book Wanderer

Traveling through books one page at a time.

The Eternal Words

An opinionated girl penning down her thoughts.🌸❤

Wild Like the Flowers

Rhymes and Reasons

Crawling Out of the Classroom

In everything that my students and I do together, we strive to find ways to use reading and writing to make the world outside of our classroom a better place for all of us to be

Chuck Wendig: Terribleminds

Hey Did You Know I Write Books

Drinking Tips for Teens

Creative humour, satire and other bad ideas by Ross Murray, an author living in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Canada. Is it truth or fiction? Only his hairdresser knows for sure.


Feminist reflections on fitness, sport, and health

Asha Seth

Reader by Day. Writer by Night.

Life of Chaz

Exploring What Captivates, Inspires, and Intrigues Us.

A Dalectable Life

Doing the best I can to keep it on the bright side

AngelineM's Blog

A little BIT OF THE EVERY DAY............A good writer is basically a story teller, not a scholar or a redeemer of mankind. - Isaac Bashevis Singer

Chocoviv’s Lifestyle Blog

Mommy blogger, who loves to share what she loves!

Dare Boldly

Artful Words to Inspire Everyday Living

Anna's reading list

My book reviews

%d bloggers like this: