Tributes

Frances Evans, British Columbia, Canada

It is in the most mundane routine, we find comfort. Simple moments with familiar objects, movement, and gesture. The favorite spoon to stir your morning coffee, the paper-thin, worn pyjamas we reach for...


So when you find yourself fretting and cursing the night because sleep won't come, but feel drowsy at a stoplight— life is good, but deep melancholy lingers.


What then? 


It’s the small changes, you just aren't yourself, and "that hand" that won’t lay still on your desk... You sit in a Dr.'s office and a suit says "Parkinson's Disease".


Stupified and shaken to the core, you stumble out into a sunny day. Knowing in your heart, nothing will ever be the same, but see that everything else remains. 


People flustered in traffic, walking their dogs, hugging their kids, buying wine— smiling.


What do you do?


It is a natural reaction in a society where "knowledge is power" to arm yourself... but don't! Just sit with the feeling, a little. Go to your comforts and wait for the reverberation to settle. You may feel grief, relief, or both.

There is now a name for what ails you. The collection of oddities that plague and worry you. 


Hold your ground to keep fear at bay, and know that over time, it'll be ok— really. Grief is a great place to visit, but you don't want to live there