Carol

This is my first blog post since last July. I apologize for taking this long to post something here.

The past year has been difficult for me and my family. For those of you who do not already know, my wife Carol passed away on January 29th. We celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary on December 29th, only a month earlier. Carol’s health had been declining for some time, as she bravely battled an illness for which there is no cure. I have been hesitant on posting something about Carol’s passing, but have decided to do this. I hope that sharing a little bit of Carol’s amazing life will help keep her memory alive.

Carol was diagnosed with dementia about four years ago. The progression of this disease is slow. Seldom is it in a hurry. There is a good reason why it’s called “the long goodbye.”

Carol and I always did a lot of things together in the outdoors and this continued, even after her diagnosis. We made lots of excursions around the Crowsnest Pass and southern Alberta, doing as many things as possible – things we liked to do together. We hiked, went for walks, picked wildflowers, and had picnics together. We went to Writing on Stone Provincial Park. Even though we only lived a few hours away, it was the first time either of us had visited this park. We made trips to Waterton Lakes National Park and made dozens upon dozens of trips to Beauvais Lake Provincial Park. We went for ice cream many times at the Old Dairy Ice Cream Shoppe in Bellevue, something Carol particularly enjoyed.

Eventually, it became difficult for Carol to do some of the outdoor activities she enjoyed so much. When this happened, we started going on more sightseeing trips in the car. Carol loved going for drives to look for bluebirds, bighorn sheep, deer, elk, and other wildlife. Sometimes, we did this twice a day. Carol’s sister Cecile would often join us. Until last April when Carol moved to Fort Macleod Extendicare, she accompanied me on many of the photo shoots I conducted for my blog. Whether it was photographing Canada geese and grebes nesting at Beauvais Lake, an old school bus rusting away in a storage compound along Highway 3, people bouldering in the Frank Slide, kayakers paddling on Emerald Lake, or anglers ice-fishing on Lee Lake, Carol was right there, with me.

Grieving the loss of your parents or a sibling can be tough enough to deal with. Losing a close friend or relative can also be difficult. I have experienced all these losses in recent years. Most of us have had to go through these sad events at one time or another. The death of a loved one is something we will all experience at some point during our life. But nothing compares to losing your spouse. It’s an entirely different experience and grieving process. At least it has been for me. Not only have you lost your life partner, but it’s also like you have lost part of yourself. The only thing I can think of that might be more difficult to experience would be the loss of one of your children.

My grieving did not start on January 29th, when Carol passed – it began when Carol was diagnosed with dementia. Like the disease, my grieving progressed slowly. Watching Carol’s health decline before my eyes was heartbreaking. Carol was always so full of life and energy. She was always happy, cheerful, and smiling. She was always busy. When not working at the fly shop, she was at home, or somewhere else, doing something “important.” Carol was like the Energizer Bunny – she kept going and going. She lived life to the fullest. She was never afraid to try something new, whether it was learning to use a computer, taking up quilting, or making a drum. Carol loved her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, dearly. And they loved her.

There was a period when Carol knew she was having a difficult time remembering things. One day, she said to me, “I don’t know what I did wrong for this to happen, but I’m going to find out and fix it.” That was Carol – even when facing adversity, she was trying to solve problems and make things better. That’s the type of person she was. Carol fought her illness until the very end. She never lost her smile or sense of humour. She remained strong, courageous, and loving, until the end of her life. Carol made it possible for some of the best things to have happened in my life. I will never forget this.

I have received amazing support from my family and friends. Thank you all very much. I would like to thank everyone who sent cards, texts, and emails, and for all the “checking to see how you’re doing” calls I have received. I would also like to thank my staff at the fly shop for covering for me, so I could spend as much time as possible with Carol over the past several years.

We are holding a Celebration of Life for Carol in Winnipeg in July. Last Saturday, a dinner was held in the Crowsnest Pass where our family and Carol’s friends gathered in her memory. We also watched a tribute video I made for Carol. As it gets closer to Carol’s Celebration of Life event, I will post the link to the video here.

It’s early spring now. Soon, robins and bluebirds will arrive in the Crowsnest Pass. Crocuses and glacier lilies will bloom once again on the sunny hillsides overlooking Turtle Mountain, and this year’s fawns and the young of other wildlife will be born. Life will carry on, as it always does.

Final Thoughts
They say that healing starts when you can share your grief with others. It hasn’t been easy for me to do this but I’m working on it.

Not long after Carol passed, I came across something in her sewing room that I believe she intended to give me. Inside an unwrapped gift box was a lovely hard-cover notebook with the following poem attached to the top. For some reason, I never received it. Knowing Carol, she probably knew I would find it, eventually.
I love you, Carol.

Do Not Ask Me to Remember

Do not ask me to remember,
Don’t try to make me understand,
Let me rest and know you’re with me,
Kiss my cheek and hold my hand.

I’m confused beyond your concept,
I am sad and sick and lost.
All I know is that I need you
To be with me at all cost.

Do not lose your patience with me,
Do not scold or curse or cry.
I can’t help the way I’m acting,
Can’t be different though I try.

Just remember that I need you,
That the best of me is gone,
Please don’t fail to stand beside me,
Love me ’til my life is done.

– Owen Darnell

Here are a few more photos of Carol taken during our earlier years.