Lost at Sea

We are given a ticket when we enter the exhibit. We are told it is an exact replica of an original boarding pass. It holds an actual passenger’s name; one that boarded the Titanic on its first and only voyage 96 years ago. Personal information about each passenger is on the ticket. I am a first class passenger; a business man. My son, Jaevin, is a third class immigrant bringing his family to America for a better life. His friend, Dakota is a second class mother.

“At the end of the exhibit there is a list of survivors and those lost at sea,” says the guide.

We are not permitted to take pictures; and I am disappointed. I have brought Jaevin to the Ontario Science Centre because he’s fascinated with the Titanic. The moment we walk into the first room my disappointment becomes understanding. I would not take my camera to a grave yard; and these eerily preserved artifacts have come from a graveyard at sea.

A door handle, a piece of rope and an engine thermometer, over-looked and taken for granted in their formal lives, now are guarded and treasured. These ordinary things are rare because they survived when so many others perished.

We walk down a first-class hallway. It is beautifully decorated with white walls and a dark burgundy carpet. Each accessory, such as door handles and lamps, is gold-plated and engraved with beautiful designs. There’s a happy melody playing. It is bright, warm and elite. I can see the ghost of John Jacob Astor, a wealthy first-class passenger, wearing his tall hat and holding his hand out to his new bride, Madeleine. They walk slowly down the hall in front of me and disappear.

We see a spacious first-class room; it’s filled with luxuries such as a fireplace, vanity, a soft comfy bed and a round table to entertain guests with a cup of tea. This room would have had its own promenade deck for strolling. First class excesses. Everything on Titanic was new and expensive.

I caress the velvety cord blocking me from the room. I can smell the ghost of fresh coffee and the fine cuisine and delicacies being served aboard the Titanic during breakfast. The first-class menu consists of sirloin steak, omelets and fresh fruit; third class passengers were given oatmeal, bread and marmalade.

We continue walking and enter a third-class hallway. It is bare. It is cold. It is dimly lit. The loud pounding of the boiler room can be heard instead of music.

“Who slept here, Mommy? It’s smaller than my room!” Jaevin says, pointing to a third-class room.

This room, expected to house entire families, is one-fifth of the size of a first-class room. It is grey and dark. Two bunk beds are cramped against the walls, leaving just enough room for a small dresser. Each bed has one, thin White Star blanket. Uncovered pipes run along the roof; barely leaving room for passengers sleeping on the top bunk. Only a small round porthole would have reminded these passengers that they were on a “ship of dreams” and not in a cell. There were only two bathtubs available for the 700 third-class passengers to share.

Jaevin pulls my hand. He has made another chilling discovery.
“Why is there a chain here?”
I look and I can’t answer him for a moment; if I do I will begin sobbing.
“These chains are here to keep the gate locked. Third-class passengers were not allowed to go up to the rest of the ship.”

I can hear the ghost of immigrant, Mr. Sage, begging the guard to open the gate and give him, his wife, and nine children a chance to survive. As cold water begins rushing down the hallway he holds his youngest child and cries; “Just give us a chance!”

I can’t move for a moment, but Jaevin is calling from the next room, so I must leave these ghosts forever pleading.

The boiler room is astonishing. Men, not machines, laboured here to keep the ship moving. Shoveling coal day and night, these men became black with soot. They would have had only seconds to escape from the boiler room, as water rushed in, before the bulkhead door slammed shut in an attempt to keep the water from the rest of the ship.

A giant iceberg sits below dark skies illuminated with sparkling, beautiful stars. It was deceptively calm and breathtaking night; a contradiction to the pending chaos and horror. I pull back my hands quickly when I touch the iceberg; it is unbearable. The water was below freezing and the shock of plunging into it would be similar to being stabbed by one thousand knives.

I can hear ghost cries of passengers struggling to stay alive in the freezing Atlantic Ocean on April, 14, 1912. John Jacob Astor was crushed by a smokestack as his wife sat shivering in one of the only 20 lifeboats. The entire Sage family drowned.

Most passengers did not drown immediately after the ship disappeared into the sea. Hundreds of people were left screaming in the ocean until their screams subsided into whimpers, then silence, as they painfully and slowly froze to death.


We are now standing before the list at the end of the exhibit.

“Can you find my name, Mom?” Jaevin asks .

I feel the ghosts of loved ones frantically searching the faces of survivors being led off the rescue ship, the Carpathia, after docking in New York. I search with them, but do not find our names on the “Saved” list.

I clutch my boarding pass and realize that when we take away the handlebar moustaches, the large hats and furs the passengers are stripped to humanity. These were true people. This was a true disaster. Our only difference is our position on the earth’s timeline.

I feel true horror as I locate our names. All three of us were “Lost at Sea”.

A Child's Reality

I've written many times about Jaevin's moment of infamous generousity when he asked me to sell his coloured picture on ebay so he could give the money to the Alzheimer scientists.
But there are so many daily moments of not so spectacular generosity that I don't write about; but thought I would share a bit today.
It's easy for people to focus on the "remember me" moment because it snowballed into a media cause of the day, but there are daily innocent moments that I don't want to forget.
Today I was clearing off the counter when I found a Halloween treat bag that Jaevin had filled about two weeks ago.
I became a member of the Welland Food Drive this year, and helped out on the big day. Every citizen of Welland is asked to put a food donation out on their front steps and volunteers collect it and all the food is divided between three major food banks in the city. It is an amazing event and I am so humbled to have been a part of it, and amazed because there are only 6 people running the entire thing, and we receive no money from the city for it.
I took pictures all day (of course!) and put together a special DVD for all the members.Jaevin watched it with me and asked me questions about what we were doing, why and can he help. I told him that he could help sort food with me next year (he was a bit ticked that I hadn't asked him to help this year, and in retrospect I really should have) Then he went to our cupboards and grabbed a bunch of food for us to donate to the food bank. I'm going to make a special box for donatable foods because everytime we go shopping he picks out at least one thing to donate.
After that he looked at me and said, "Mom, we give presents to all the kids at Christmas at school, right?"
"Yes. That 's like a food bank too, Jaevin," I started to explain. "Instead of people donating food to needy families, we give toys to the charities so that children can have presents at Christmas."
"But doesn't Santa give ALL kids presents?"
I paused for a moment; I was not exactly sure how to proceed. He's at a vulnerable age. He's young and innocent and imaginative enough still to believe; yet he is old enough to have intellectual thoughts about the man in red.
"Well, of course Santa gives ALL kids presents, but you know Santa usually only has one present for each child."
"And he fills the stockings too, Momma."
"Oh, yes, of course! The stockings too."
"Okay, then why do we donate presents ?"
"Well, at Christmas you are soooo lucky. You have a big family and get presents from so many people. When we come down on Christmas morning, do we only have ONE present waiting for you under the tree?"
Jaevin's eyes sparkled and he giggled and I could see him imagining Christmas Morning. Then he shook his head and said,"NO! We get about 120 presents. Maybe even 763!" (he is totally into using abstract large numbers in his descriptions of things now...it is way too cute)
"That's right. We have lots. But some families aren't as lucky as us, and they will only have one present under their tree from Santa. So that's why we help out and try to make other families happy at Christmas."
He didn't say anything for a few moments. Then he said, "What about birthdays?"
I was confused so asked him what he meant.
"Well, do those kids get to have big parties and get lots of presents on their birthdays? Christmas is for EVERYONE, but birthdays are only for one person. Do they get presents?"
I told him that was an interesting question and that I wasn't sure.
"Birthday parties are expensive. Mommys and Daddys have to buy treat bag stuff and cakes and decorations. Plus they have to get a present too."
"Well, is there anybody that helps kids have good parties? Like mine?" Jaevin asked.
I realized what had prompted his birthday concern. Jaevin had just had his birthday party a week before the food drive. He is extremely lucky because i LOVE throwing birthday parties and go all out with decorations and games and loot bags. He invited his whole class and then some, so it would be honest to say he had a very good birthday.
"I don't think so." I told him.
Then he went out of the room and a few minutes later he came back with his hands full of Halloween treat bags.
"These are for the birthday kids so they can have good parties."
The bags were full of his hotwheel cars and Halloween candy, and other things he thought were valuable.
"I want to be a Birthday Helper, Mommy."
Of course I teared up and hugged him and told him I was very proud of him and would see what I could do. Maybe I could help him start a little group that assists parents. Why had I never thought of this before? How did a seven year old think of it?
Then I put it at the back of my mind because it has been so busy around here. But this morning, like I mentioned, I found one of his treat bags. Inside was a Spiderman sticker, one of his favourite Hot Wheels, and a KFC coupon. I had to laugh at the coupon, but I understand his reasoning. He thinks those coupons give you FREE food.
I'm going to give him a hug when he gets home from school tonight. Then I'm going to see what I can do to make his Birthday Helpers group a reality.
Afterall, it was a childish request to ask to sell his picture up on ebay. He believed he could sell his picture and give a lot of money to the scientists. What if I hadn't followed up for him? What if I had smiled and said, "okay, Jaevin" and not done anything?
His dreams are a reminder that ANYTHING can happen. ANYTHING is possible. The only thing that ever can hold our dreams and goals back is our own self.
We, as adults, have got to start looking at life through the naive innocence of a child. Children believe in life and dreams. It's usually the adults in their lives that begin putting up the barriers.
"You can't do that."
or
"That won't work."
or
"That's impossible."
I am so glad that I have Jaevin because he reminds me daily of how dreams are made to become realities.

Catching Leaves

I've just spent the past hour in the forest with Jaevin and Summer letting them completely control what we were doing.
And I loved it!
It's the first week of November, yet I was wearing only my blue sweater from New Brunswick. No hat; no mitts. Same with them. The sign is shining and there is an occasionally breeze and light wind, but other than that it is a perfect day.
I went over there to get some pictures of them in the brilliant fall colours. The forest is a mosaic of yellows, reds, oranges, greens and browns. Jaevin even discovered some pinkish leaves. I got my "posed" pictures and then took some of them just enjoying the forest, and then I didn't bother with the camera at all and just watched them, trying to memorize each moment in my heart.
My camera is great, but when i take so many pictures I am not completely and truly experiencing the moments.
We walked through the forest and we stopped and listened. We were silent and we could actually HEAR the leaves landing on the ground. We could see them floating, like big, crunchy, colourful snowflakes. We ran around trying to catch them. Jaevin would see one and charge forward and reach up his hand and move on to the next falling leaf. Summer, always looking up to and trying to copy her brother, ran around and tried to catch them too. She was so enthusiastic that she fell a few times. Once was when we were adventuring in the mainly dried up creek. Of course, Summer discovered the small area where there is actually some muddy water remaining! She cried a bit, but then got over it. We found some stumps and some fallen trees laying across a leaf bed. Although, I suppose they weren't actually FALLEN trees, but trees that had been cut down by the city for whatever justified reason.
I sat down on a white birch and watched Jaevin try to catch leaves. Summer saw me and was intrigued by sitting on a tree, and crunched her way over to me and I helped her sit beside me. Soon after Jaevin made his way over and then I showed him the clear, smooth cut of the tree trunk and explained how you could determine the age of a tree by counting it's rings.
"How old was this tree, Mom?" he curiously asked.
I looked at the infinite rings and said, "Oh, I don't know...probably about 100 maybe" and then I thought, well that can't be correct because how could someone cut down a tree that had lived for 100 years? That's like murder in a forest....oh that's a good name for a story or a book....Murder in a Forest.
But there were so many rings.....
Jaevin balanced himself along the length of the tree, and at the end it split into two sections and he walked with his legs spread apart.
"Look at me, Mommy! Look at me! Do you think I can make it, Mom? It's very tricky," he cried to me.
"I don't know...it does look tricky. Too tricky for me." But of course he could make it.
We found another log and he did the same thing. Then he stood tall on a stump, and Summer did too.
I sat down on a tree log and Jaevin started collecting leaves and piling them beside me for us to take home. Summer was getting a wee bit whiny, so I asked her to find me some yellow leaves because every time she sees something that is yellow she gets excited beyond description.
Jaevin helped her find her first yellow leave and he gently brought it to her and whispered, "Yellow Summer. Show Mommy the Yellow leaf!"
It was one of those moments that, as a parent, you wish would just pause time. Keep forever.
Summer grabbed it and turned around and held it up as high and as proudly as she could and yelled, "YA-YOW! OOK, Mama...Ya-Yow"
Then she ran over and put it into our pile. I sat and watched them and tried to come up with unique compliments for each and every leaf that Jaevin enthusiastically brought over to display to me.
"Look at this one mom!"
"Wow! That one is the biggest one you've found!"
"Mom, here's another one!"
"It's so bright. And that one is such a cool shape!"
On and on it went until he became tuckered out and asked to take his collection home.
He grabbed a jumble of them and we walked home and he took them right into the basement so we can do a craft with them.
I was so inspired by this moment of mommy hood that I couldn't wait to write about it.

Nature Versus Terror!

Another Jaevin story (of course)

He is so super sensitive about events and people and creatures in general.

I went to have a quick shower this afternoon and was startled because there was this huge, ugly, creepy crawly centipede staring at me from the bathtub.
It was gross. I feel tingles of creepiness crawling on my neck even thinking about it right now.
I screamed for Darren- isn't that such a "girly" thing to do?
Jaevin came upstairs with him, all concerned.
I didn't want Jaevin to be afraid of the bug, so I calmed myself down- even though I was practically vomiting- and said,
"Oh, don't worry- it's just a centipede. Would you like to look at it? It's very interesting. Look at all the legs it has."
He pushed past Darren to look at it and said, "But why are you screaming, Mommy?"
"It startled me. I'm a little chicken, I guess."
Darren started to toss water on it to send it down the drain, and I freaked out again and told him to squish it because I didn't want it crawling out of the drain again.
So he grabbed it in a kleenex and flushed it.
Jaevin was very quiet and went into his room.
I went on to have my shower, and Jaevin knocked at the door.
"Mom!" he shouted.
"What?"
"Mom! That was NATURE! You shouldn't have done that. That centipede was only a part of nature and Dad killed it and now it isn't a part of nature anymore."
I feel horrible! I promised if I ever see a bug again that I would take it outside and put it back into nature.
Now all I can think about is how the centipede was, in fact, very interesting to look at- and it wasn't really doing anything- and now he "isn't a part of nature anymore"
Too Bad Jaevin isn't a world leader!
Oh my god- I am just rereading this before posting and noticed that the centipede had progressed from an "it" to a "he" by the end of my journal.
GEEZ! Soon I'll be giving it a name!

Alzheimer's Disease

An entire year has passed since Jaevin sold his "remember me" picture on ebay. (read the story "remember me")

He drew a beautifully sweet picture again. Simple and powerful.

It's a picture of him and Nanny again, but this time our dog, Teddy Bear, is in the sky watching over them.
Teddy Bear died a few years ago and Jaevin calls her our "guardian angel dog". He says that she watches over us and now watches great- Nanny so she doesn't get lost.

Jaevin also drew a "teddy angel" picture and we attached it to a jug he is collecting Canadian Tire money in for the Humane Society.

signs of spring

Before Jaevin went to school this morning, he heard some birds chirping.
"Oh! You know what that means, Mom," he said. "That's a sign of spring coming."
I glanced out the window at the world of cold and snow and said, "Well....yeah."
Not very convincing.
"No, it is, Mommy. It is."
Later, as I stood at the end of our driveway, I saw a grey squirrel jump up onto our fence and then bounce down on to the snow-ground. Then immediately another identical squirrel jumped onto the fence in the same spot and just waited there. I wondered if they were together, but then thought, no, it's just a coincidence. Then Squirrel A went up a tree and Squirrel B jumped into the neighbours tree. Then Squirrel A jumped into Squirrel B's tree and they jumped around the bare branches together a bit and then jumped back onto and over the fence again. I wondered if it was a mating ritual or something. Maybe they're just friends. Who knows, but it was pretty cool and I considered that maybe Jaevin was right. Maybe spring is coming.
That reminds me of a poem I wrote in fourth grade and was published in Lindsay This Week.
Ahhh...my first published work at ten years old.
"Spring is here; Spring is here,
At last; At last"
That's all I can remember by heart. But I have it clipped out and stored somewhere. How silly of a poem. But who cares? I think I'll put it on my blog anyway.
Funny that spring is coming and it seems we barely had a winter. We have some snow out there now, but it was a long time coming. I actually like winter. I love the beauty. Global warming is a reality.
I think a lot of people don't consider the difference that they can make because they don't see the difference.
Like, why recycle? What's the point?
Try looking at the bags of garbage that are diverted from a landfill from your very own home.
I am a crazy obsessed composter and recycler and always have been.
I used to save all my recyclables at home and bring them to my friend, Fawn when I was in high school.
They didn't have a recycling program at the time in the country, but they had just started one in Lindsay.
"Uh, thanks, Brandy" she'd say. I'd ignore her rolling eyes and hand over my bags of yogurt containers and pop cans.
"It's for the environment!"

do you know what?

Overheard a funny conversation between Jaevin and his friends, Dakota and Marcus, this morning as they were getting ready for the bus.
"Do you know what?"
This is Jaevin's intro to any topic that interests him and he finds extremely exciting. Which means he says it a lot. He doesn't wait for the other person to actually answer him, but he says it quickly and then goes into his profound thought.
"Do you know what? I saw the old Toronto Maple Leafs play hockey, and guess what? They were still alive!" Jaevin said.
He went to see an Old Timer hockey game with his dad last weekend. He was a bit disappointed that he wasn't going to see Mats Sundin, but he still had a lot of fun.
"Well, my mom was alive in 1991!" Dakota said to impressed oooohhhhs and aaaahhhhs from Jaevin and Marcus. "She was born in 1980 and I was born in 2000."
"I was born in 2000 too" Jaevin said importantly.
"You were born in 2002?" Marcus said incredulously.
"No, I said I was born in 2000.....t00"Jaevin explained.

There are so many moments like this when you have children- I wish I could remember it all or had enough time to write it all down.

It was another peaceful moment as I watched them go down to the bus stop this morning. Not as profound as yesterday, but still nice.

It was snowing, but it was not soft and clumpy again. It sounded like rain drops falling on my coat. The packing snow has now all hardened into crunchy snow. I wish I had made a snowman with Jaevin yesterday. The weather was perfect- there are only certain times that the weather is perfect for snowman making. He wanted to go tobogganing with Darren instead. It would have been nice to wake up to a snow friend this morning.

Maybe I should have made my own snow buddy?

I was a bit sad as the bus passed me. I was thinking about how Summer will never ride on a bus because the school board is taken all the routes away. I wondered if a school bus would feel like an extinct animal to her- something she never knew. I won't have her "first day of school" picture at the bus stop or have her look out the window and wave to me or have her run off the bus after school shouting, "MOMMY!"

She is so excited when I say, "It's time to go to the bus stop!" She grabs her boots and points to them, "guhhh...." translation: put these on Mommy. She gets a big smile on her face as we go out the door. She associates bus time with her big brother and Daddy coming home. Summer loves them so much.

Witnessing the complete devotion that her and Jaevin have for one another is one of the truly remarkable experiences I have had as a parent.

It is me, Mommy!

Jaevin, my six-year-old, usually crawls into bed with Darren and I sometime during the night. He snuggles his way into the middle.

I love waking up before him in the morning and watching him before he wakes up because he looks so perfect and content.

I noticed that he is starting to get a few faint brown freckles across the bridge of his nose. His eye lashes are long and he looks like an angel while sleeping.

Sometimes I don't want to wake him up in the morning for school. I want to be selfish and keep him home all day. To have a "mommy and me" day.

He started grade one this year, and after his first week it was like he was a new person. He has picked up a new language (some of it is not very nice; but mostly it's phrases like "that's sweet" or "you gotta be kidding me").

He also has this bashfulness now. He doesn't want to be embarrassed in front of his peers.

Jaevin has inherited a double crown in his hair from his father, so no matter what we do, his hair sticks up in the middle. He used to go off to school and not care about it at all. But now, sometimes he goes into the bathroom and puts water on his hair, in an effort to tame the natural spike.

He'll come out with a little "aren't I handsome" expression on his face. So, of course, I say, "You look very handsome today, Jaevin."

"I know," he says with sincerity. He knows he is the most handsome boy in his class; actually his whole school, he tells me with a shrug.

Although I am noticing his new self-awareness, there are still some pure innocent moments that I treasure.

We play this game where I say "I love a little boy in this world- do you know who it is?"

Jaevin giggles and says, "It's me, Momma!"

I look very seriously at him and say, "I don't know....maybe it is you. The little boy I love has blue eyes."

He smiles and yells, "I have blue eyes!" and points to his eyes.

Then I will say something like, "I don't know....it could be you...The little boy I love has a name that starts with a "J""

In between each clue he will look so happy, but nervous, that the next clue might not be about him.

After about five clues I will look at him, and exclaim, "It is YOU! You are the boy I love the best in this world."

He loves it!

Lately though, when I start it , he will say "Mommy, you always do this to me, and it's always me!" But he still wants me to do it- and he also wants to include Summer in on it. He says, "Do you love any little girls Mommy?"

"Of course I do!" I reply.

"Is it Summer, Mommy?"

"Well, I don't know.....the little girl I love has blue eyes."

And on we go again.

I remember when he was about two years old I would say, "You're my best friend......"and he would say, "in the WHOLE world" in his soft little voice.

I love those moments.

Originally posted February 19,2007

Morning Moment

The snow falls quietly this morning as I watch Jaevin walk to the bus stop with Dakota. He is bundled up in his light blue snowsuit and looks all lumpy and warm. It will not be long before he refuses to wear his snow pants in an effort to conform and fit in with "all the other kids".

He has journeyed to the bus stop a few times by himself, but each time I am anxious and sentimental. Will he slip? Will he play too closely to the road? Will someone say something mean to him? Will he say something mean to someone else? Will he look back and say, "I don't need you anymore, Mommy."

I have to watch him from the front of our yard. I am ready to bolt, if needed, but at the same time I realize that I am not close enough to protect him from everything. Twice today I started to walk towards them, but made myself stop.

I focus on the beauty of the morning. I often try to "make the city disappear" and visualize that I am back in the country; but even if I were to close my eyes to the cities visual intrusions of cable boxes, fences and paved driveways; the audio garbage would always be present.

There is never a moment of true silence here.

This morning I came close to achieving a "country moment" though.

I stood and watched the snow falling. It was peaceful. There was no wind, and it wasn't cold enough that I had to wear my hat. My ungloved hands were fisted in my pockets. I saw snow falling in front of the trees and looked over toward the park across the street.
There was a fat, black squirrel climbing up the thick trunk of one of the maple-leafless trees.

I looked up and saw two Canada geese flying together and wondered if they were best friends, like Jaevin and Dakota, or were they mother and father, or maybe they were two strangers looking for companionship.

They honked as they flew over my head. Their beaks were long. I pondered how I would be able to describe their sound in my journal. Honk isn't exactly the correct sound, but it is generally the sound that is associated with geese.
Whatever the right word is, they were beautiful.

I looked behind me and saw a tiny nest in a small tree. It was bland and grey looking, but I smiled because it was another sign of nature prevailing in this man made world.

Moo!

Words can create hysterical sillies! Jaevin had a PD Day today, and when Summer had her nap we went up to his room and read the rest of his Junie B. Jones book together.
We snuggled on his Spiderman draped bed and I started reading. Junie said that the only word her baby brother knew how to say was "moo"

Jaevin started giggling uncontrollably. I am going to write out that sentence and put it into a scrapbook for him to look at when he is older.
It was that real, spur of the moment giggle. And so I started giggling, which made him even laugh louder. Everytime he heard Ollie (Junie's brother) say "moo" he laughed again and looked at me.

It was a beautifully wonderful moment.

The above post was originally started in February 2007

The portion below was written today

I love my little guy.

Another way I can get him to laugh and squeal is by saying, "I bet I can make you laugh without even touching you!"

And I wave my hands around him and twiddle my fingers like I am going to tickle him, but always he covers his mouth with his hands to hide his grin and keep his giggles quiet instantly. He thinks I can't see him smile if he covers it. Adorable babe.

Remember Me

“Can I sell this on eBay?” Jaevin, my then five-year-old son, asked me last April. He held a crayon masterpiece in his hands.
“Sure,” I answered. So cute and sweet, I thought. “What are you going to do with all the money?” I imagined him having a goal of being able to buy a mass supply of candy and a lava lamp he desperately wanted.
“I’m going to give it to the scientists so they can fix great-Nanny’s brain so she will always remember me,” he told me as though it were obvious.
My heart jolted and my eyes watered uncontrollably. I looked more intensely at his picture as he described it to me.
“That’s me with Great-Nanny and I am picking a sunflower for her. There’s a colorful rainbow all around us. I just need you to help me spell “remember”, Mommy. I am going to print “remember me” on it so she knows it’s me.”
I was blown away by Jaevin’s compassion and desire to do something so wonderful to help his “great-Nanny”- my grandmother. She has been struggling with Alzheimer’s disease for several years.
Jaevin was concerned about his great-Nanny’s strange behavior and questioned why she sometimes didn’t know who he was or remember what she was doing. We explained that Alzheimer’s was a disease affecting Nanny’s brain and her ability to remember. We also told him that there were special people working on finding a cure for Alzheimer’s, and that research was expensive.
Each summer our family spends a lot of time with my grandparents at the cottage in Fenelon Falls. At moments my grandmother seems like an innocent, child-like girl; a perfect companion for Jaevin. They laugh and watch the ducks and look at her gardens, but he is always protecting her.
This past summer when we were visiting, a man came up to the cottage. My grandmother looked at me and Jaevin and said, “I may not know who I am all the time, but I know that is Jeffrey!” (I hadn’t even recognized him; and it was one of my own relatives.)
Jaevin walked over to the lawn chair she was sitting on, softly caressed her cheek, and said, “I will always remind you that you’re great-Nanny.”
Looking at his beautiful picture I was overwhelmed by his simple gesture of love and desire to help his great-Nanny. I thought we had helped Jaevin cope with Nanny’s disease by explaining it and providing him with the facts he needed, but he had been processing the information for months trying to find a solution. He simply did not want his great-Nanny to forget him- Ever.
Jaevin had heard me talk frequently about making money on eBay, an on-line auction site that allows people to sell and buy items from around the world. I felt somewhat embarrassed that it was a child’s unwavering optimism and innocence that pointed out the potential of raising money on eBay.
I put his picture up on eBay for him with an opening bid of 99 cents, knowing that my husband and I would be the winning bidders, but wanting to encourage his compassion and help fulfill his dream.
However, my husband and I were not the lucky winners of the auction.
Jaevin was interviewed by local newspapers and his auction was covered on national television. He became a mini-celebrity during his week-long auction, and quite a bit of attention was focused on him and his picture. During all the craziness and excitement, he maintained his innocence and truly didn’t understand why everyone was so interested in him and his drawing. He had one, and only one, goal in mind; raising money to fix his great-Nanny’s brain.
When he was asked how much he hoped to sell his picture for, he blurted out enthusiastically, “100 moneys!”
But he received much more than any of us could have imagined.
His beautiful work of art sold for $1000.00!
There were many people who could not afford to bid on it, but they donated to his cause. He received donations as little as $1.00 to as high as $1000.00.The total received (all from complete strangers) was an unbelievable $2600.00; and he donated all of it to the Alzheimer Society.
It was a bittersweet moment when the auction ended.
“Now we can fix great-Nanny!” Jaevin shouted as he jumped up and down with his sister.
“All this money will definitely help the scientists, Jaevin,” I told him, choking back my tears so I would not ruin his moment of glory. “But great-Nanny’s brain won’t be fixed right away. It takes time.”
“No, she’ll remember me now, Mommy. I drew her a picture!” he insisted.
Jaevin presented the winning bidders with the original drawing at an emotional ceremony given by the Alzheimer Society in St.Catharines, but we had scanned a copy for him to give to my grandmother.
He was excited, yet nervous to give her the picture. Fate was on our side because the day he gave it to her, she was happy and seemed like herself. She snuggled him and said, “You’re a good boy, Jaevin.”
And she knew exactly who he was.

Mommy Writes Books

We were out the other day and Jaevin was asked: "What does your Mommy do?"
He matter-of-factly said, "Mommy Writes Books."

It's official!

There's no rational reason to explain the thrill I felt hearing Jaevin say this. I just felt so validated. His belief in me put a cliched "smile on my face" as well as in my heart.

I think it was the way he said it that made me so happy. He didn't look at me for prompting or have to think about it- he just simply said it.
Now, it would be really great to hear him say,

"Mommy Publishes Books"