All posts tagged “Vancouver Mural Fest

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Three Years

Canada Day long weekend is a rough one for me, for our family. There is a building heaviness like the whump of low pressure before a storm. The rain and mercury sky make perfect sense.  July 3, 2018 will mark 3 years since Holden left us and continued on his journey. There is a deep ache in the soft-quiet place where he should be.

I’ve been trying to remember Holden in ways that are not associated with photographs. There must be more than these rows of squares. The rewatching of a glance or a touch or a word with no visual reference to hold it. Today I’m envisioning the last time I saw my son. He is standing in the doorway of our kitchen saying something ordinary like ‘see ya later.’ The top of his head nearly reaches the door jam and his smiling cheeks, above the auburn scraggle of a beard, are light pink. I can see his green eyes and hear his deep voice vibrating in the air between us and re-know how grateful I was to have him so close and solid.  Continue Reading →

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The Biggest Headstone

I have no grave to place flowers by.  I have no headstone to polish and sweep.  I do have a beautiful, smooth, wooden box, made by my husband Cam, that we keep on the same shelf as the vodka. We don’t reach for the vodka often, or the box for that matter. The box contains the burned bones of my son.

And now I also have a sixty-five foot cement wall in a parking lot in East Vancouver covered in glorious red paint, at the centre of which there is a huge and uncanny portrait of my son Holden in black and white, smiling out at the world.  He looks truly happy.  I hope it’s true. There is no good resting place for your child, but this wall makes sense.   If there has to be a symbolic location for Holden to be recognized, well, this is his kind of place.  

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