Welcome!

Come out of the cold and sit by the fire. I’ll pour us a cup of tea. It’s been awhile since I’ve been here too, but as the year draws to a close, it’s time to reflect on the past and to tell a story. The story I want to tell is about connecting to those we love, even though they may not be physically present. I hope it warms your heart. If you make it to the end, there is a musical treat for you, provided by my three youngest children.

Are you ready? Okay, sit back and here’s my 2020 holiday story.

Snow Mom

“My mom loved Christmas. She grew up during the depression years with four brothers and a little sister. In those days, getting a few nuts and maybe an orange in your Christmas stocking was a luxury. That time of scarcity left a deep impression on her and her relationship with earthly stuff. I was a young child in the 60’s and early 70’s, a time of endless possibilities; with moon landings, civil rights and women’s lib making great strides through our society, and yet it was a time of lack for my family.

My father drove an Esso oil truck for a living and struggled to provide for our family of six. When it came to Christmas, my parents had to get creative. My mom would save pennies throughout the year and fill our stocking with a few inexpensive toys and candy she had purchased from Woolworth’s, $1.49 day sales. Also, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, long after we were tucked into bed, her sewing machine rattled away, turning old clothes into something new again. One Christmas, she made my sisters and I red, felt skirts, which made us feel so festive and bright and certainly not the poor relations to our richer cousins, whom we met later on Christmas day.

After my dad died in a truck accident in 1965, even though I was only five at the time, I understood we were in a precarious situation money wise. Still, I do remember mom trying to make Christmas special for us in small ways and holiday music always filled our home, making it feel less quiet and sad.

Mom remarried when I was twelve, and for a bit over a decade, we created endearing memories with my step dad, Bud. Oh, those were precious, fun filled years. One Christmas, Bud told us about a lone fir tree out in the country that he drove past on his way to work every day. He said he felt sorry that it was all alone in a large clearing. One crisp night, when the sky was pitch black and the stars were twinkling, we gathered popcorn strings, nuts, and apples and drove out to decorate the sweet little tree. We laughed and giggled as we decorated, and the tree seemed to shimmer happily when Bud placed our homemade, tinfoil star on top.

We used to do spontaneous, goofy things like that all the time, but mom became a widow again in her late 50’s, when Bud had a sudden heart attack and died. When I grew up, I was doggedly determined to be independent. I fought to have control over my destiny and worked hard to provide for myself and also help mom in little ways.

Although I was only twenty five when Bud passed away, I dug in deep to build a safety net for myself and a place for mom to have a secure place in my life. At the time, my three older sisters all had families of their own and since it was just my husband David and I, we included mom in all our activities and holidays. We had movie and pizza nights, we took her for Sunday drives, stopping for ice cream and of course, she was mainly with us on Christmas day. We loved spoiling her with things she only dreamed of; leather handbags, new coats, and one year we gave her a VCR machine so she could watch movies at home. In the 80’s, that was quite a luxury. I’ll never forget the surprised expression of sheer shock and joy on her face as she opened that gift. “Oh Debbie, Oh David, ” she said over and over again, as she hugged the box to her chest, wonder and delight shining in her eyes.

Another Christmas, we gave her a Kodak, instant camera. She was like a little kid playing with her new toy, snapping pictures of Christmas moments; the turkey being carved, our family assembled around the dinner table and the grand kids standing in front of our sparking Christmas tree. We laughed and laughed as the pictures slowly came into focus and we marvelled over the miracle of technology.

This Christmas mom will have been gone for nine years. After she passed away in 2012, my three sisters and I went through her belongings, selecting what we wanted to keep and what we decided to donate. I had learned over the years to detach from things, since losing so many loved ones had taught me that stuff just wasn’t important. But when we came to her Christmas boxes, that was another matter. Each ornament, each decoration, held special memories of our Christmases together. I was fairly ruthless, however, as we had a house full of eight children at the time, and I didn’t want to store mom’s memories in our dusty, crawl space.

The tossing was going good, until I spied a little, two inch ornament I had given mom one Christmas. I think I had taped it to one of her presents. It was a small, glossy white snow lady, with a red and green hat and a matching scarf around her neck. Painted on her face were bright eyes and an enormous smile that reminded me of mom when she opened her Christmas gifts. The little snow lady sat on top of a red jingle bell, that looked like an old fashion skirt. Etched into the skirt was the single word,

“MOM.”

I snatched up Snow Mom and tightly held her to my chest as I sobbed and sobbed.

Every winter since then, I’ve carried snow mom in my pocket. Some of her paint has scratched off and her orange nose broke a number of years ago. As my boots crunch along in newly fallen snow, there is a little jingle coming from my pocket.

Jingle, Jingle, “I love you!”

Jingle, Jingle, “I’m so proud of you.”

Jingle, Jingle, “You can do this Debbie.”

Jingle, Jingle, “All is well.”

Mom may be gone physically, but she never truly left me.

This has been a tough year for many of us and I don’t think anyone on this earth has escape some sort of loss, or grief. Even if you have escaped becoming sick yourself, or losing someone you love, you may be, like me, feeling drained and tired of social distancing, mask wearing and the relentless worry that an invisible, dark presence will knock at your door.

When I was pulling out our Christmas decorations the other day and found Snow Mom, it was like a big aha moment for me. She came to remind me that yes, in life there are difficult, challenging times, but it’s up to each of us to help others and try to lighten their load. In that giving of ourselves we find the magic in living. Being alive is a gift and giving of ourselves is the blessing we can spread around the world.

And if the worst thing happens in our lives; we lose someone we love, I hope this story reminds you that we never truly lose people we love. They remain in our hearts forever and we are never without them.

During this holiday season, I hope you listen carefully for the sweet jingle in your pocket. Let it be a reminder that you are never alone and you are always loved!

The End

Thanks so much for coming to visit today. Before you leave, the kids want to play you a few songs. First Will, Kathryn and Victoria will play “Tobin’s Favourite,” an old Irish Folk song and then the girls will play “Ashgrove,” which is an old Welsh Folk song. Then if you watch to the end, you will see Victoria hit the snowman, playing the piano, that my mom gave me for Christmas one year. This was a totally impromptu performance after the girl’s piece was over and I’m so glad I kept videotaping. My mom would have LOVED Victoria’s spontaneous dance, and appreciate that her little snowman is still being enjoyed by her youngest grandchildren. This one is for you mom!

Merry Christmas!

Blessings from Hope

Remember Christmas letters? Those lovely catch up notes that people used to stuff into their Christmas cards. Maybe some people still do, but I think for the most part, this is a thing of the past, like Christmas cards themselves. The few cards that I receive each holiday season, usually only have the signature from the sender under the card’s sentiments. If I’m lucky, I receive a family picture. (Thank you T for that!)

As 2020 comes to a close, I was thinking that I wanted to write a newsy year end letter and while most people would not appreciate several pages of “me and us,” stuffed into a Christmas card, I thought I would publish it as a blog post. That way, those who ARE interested in the goings on in our household can have an update. 

Also, since I haven’t posted much this year, it will act as a record for posterity sake; a snippet into our Covid 19 filled year. So if I were to write a Christmas letter this year, this is how it would go…….. 

Dear family and friends,

I hope this holiday letter finds you and yours well. What a weird year hey? Although we have been living under this Covid 19 cloud for nine months now, it still feels surreal. Thankfully, our family has adjusted well under the circumstances and we all remain healthy. How has your family handled this unusual year? Do you have any insights as to how you think this experience may change us as we move forward? If you have a bit of time, grab a cup of tea, coffee,or some eggnog and join me for a visit.

You may not know this, but in September 2019 David and his partner Eric, bought Westwood Engineering. Yes, I know, kind of huge hey, especially since David worked for the company for over 30 years? Anyway, to keep overhead down and for practical reasons they started working at home, along with their two junior engineers. We felt fortunate that everything had fallen into place so smoothly and thankfully,  they were in the swing of working from their home offices when the Covid 19 pandemic hit. David thought things might slow down for the company but actually the wood products industry, in which they primarily work, has been strong and therefore their first year ended on a nice high. Thanks in part to  those people who are doing DIY’S, using wood products, and of course to a lesser degree, those who are hoarding toilet paper.

Where on earth are people putting this stuff?

Then another big change for our family occurred regarding our three youngest children’s education. Since our 11 year old son, Will and our 9 year old twin daughter’s, Kathryn and Victoria all thrived learning from home last spring, when school resumed in the fall, we kept them at home. We tried to work with the school district for awhile but there wasn’t great structure and little support. In fairness, the V Learn system had gone from 60 students the year before to 300 students this fall in our school district. The teachers were clearly overwhelmed. Because of this, at term break in November we pulled them right out of any registered school setting and jumped into the deep, scary abyss of homeschooling.

Although there have been challenging days for sure and tears. (me, not them! ha) it’s working well. Lately, one of the homeschooling perks is being able to work hard in the morning (David too) so we can all go downhill skiing as a family in the afternoons. I love the freedom and flexibility homeschooling offers, as the kids can extend their learning by following their passions beyond the basic curriculum. I think if you were to ask them what their favourite time of day is, they would tell you that they love our walks in nature before lunch. We often head up the mountain to a wild life and bird sanctuary just over the hill from our house, and then after lunch the kids all grab a blanket and curl up by the fire to quietly read together.  I love it too! 

The books and the peace. 

One of the down sides this year was that Grace’s Spring Break, school trip to the U.K. was cancelled. They were scheduled to leave only two days after our Provincial health officer recommended people not travel out of  the country. It was such an anxious week for our family. Things were getting worse and worse in Europe and we didn’t know what would happen, but the School District finally cancelled the trip. We still don’t know if she will get any of her money back. The airlines are just wanting to give out vouchers but what good is that if there is no travel allowed. She had worked so hard at the water slides the previous summer to pay for the bulk of this trip, so it was a huge disappointment to say the least. We have consoled ourselves with the thought that at least everyone stayed healthy and she did get a really nice hoodie that said, “U.K. 2020,” which is a real keeper.

One of the biggest benefits of having to stay home, was that David and I finally had time to finish our mammoth rock wall project in our backyard. I call it David’s opus! This project took three years to complete. First we had to cut down and then dig up all the roots from the old plants in the terraced beds. Thankfully, our older boys were home for that summer to help as some of those twenty year old, pine mugho roots were huge!. Then slowly, we took down the two, fifty foot wide landscape tie, retaining walls, which were rotting. We took piece by piece up to the dump in our work horse, Honda Odyssey van. Then the work really began as we went up the mountains to collect the large, river rocks for our wall. I can proudly say that every single rock in our new retaining wall was hauled in and carried by us to our backyard. Okay, maybe our older boys helped here and there, but for the bulk of the job it was David and I.

 I lost track of the dozens of trips we took up to the mountains, but over the last two years we collected enough rocks for David to build two terraced walls, each  fifty feet wide by three feet high. In August he placed the last rock and we sang,” Hallelujah!” I then had the immense pleasure of selecting and planting herbs and perennials in all the beds. We even have a water feature, landscape lights and a convenient, extra set of steps that takes us down to our pool now. I have to tell you that the bees were in heaven last summer buzzing around the Lavender, Bee Balm and Yarrow. Also a side benefit is that we didn’t have to go to the gym to stay in shape. Who knew that you just have to build a rock wall to get toned and muscled. A side note for those of you who are interested; the suspension in our Honda van is still great! Go Honda!

Well, that’s it for the family at home but as you know, our family has two strings. A term our basketball playing son Harrison gave our family a few years ago and it’s stuck. Our older four kids and our younger four kids being the two strings. I prefer to think of it in musical terms since our four older kids played the piano, violin and cello together, and our younger ones also play the same instruments. In fact our three youngest kids call their trio, “The Second String.” Anyway, I transgress and have to tell you that the first string, our oldest, are all doing well. 

Alyssa turned thirty last spring and is still living in her quaint, little place near the ocean in Victoria. As an introvert, she has been thriving during this past year of social distancing and working from home. She was freelancing as a web designer and spiritual coach, but when the pandemic hit and children were suddenly being educated from home, her previous boss at Sylvan called her up and asked if she would consider coming back as their lead English teacher for their two Victoria locations. This worked out really well as she prefers to tutor one on one or in small groups, rather than in a traditional  classroom setting. Also, like us, I think more and more parents will be rethinking the way they educate their children. Teaching is bound to transition to more on line tutoring as a result of this demand. We believe that the old brick and mortar school will be obsolete one day.

Recently, one of Alyssa’s bucket list goals was met, when she published her first book. It’s called, “Invocations to Horizons: Poems of Nature, Magic and Myth.” If you’re interested, you can find this book at Amazon.ca. My Dad would have been so proud of his granddaughter, as his passion was writing too.  Also, after years of living in big cities and relying on the bus service to get around, she decided that it was time to buy her first car. With the help of her Auntie B and Uncle J in Victoria, she finally found a cute little Honda Fit to call her own. She says she now feels like a real grown up!

And now a bit about our oldest son Clark. He’s turning twenty eight later this week and is happily looking forward to graduating from the U of A  law school next spring. Quick, knock on wood, since he is currently in the midst of writing five intense exams this week. Good thing he likes to read, since each course has pages and pages of notes to review and tomes of precedent setting cases to understand and quote. He remained in Edmonton this year, partly because his summer job was with Alberta’s, Worker’s Compensation Board, but also because he says that living with three other law students has helped him feel less isolated this year. We are incredibly thankful that he has secured a position with, “Dolden, Wallace, Folick,” and will be working out of their Kelowna branch starting sometime next Spring. His beautiful girlfriend, Jessica, is also thrilled that he will return to the Okanagan as her career and family is also here.  

Mitchell, our second oldest son, turns twenty five next month and is in Melbourne, Australia. He just finished up a gig working for the Bad Shepherd Brew company whose motto is, “let us lead you into temptation.” Despite that city’s drastic lock down during the pandemic, Mitchell held onto his job as beer is a necessity in Australia! It’s now summer there and he’s working for his roommate, who owns a window washing company named, “Squishies.” He told us during our last visit that they are booked solid, he enjoys the work and apparently it pays really well. He was gearing up to return to Canada in March, since his visa will expire then, but there is a possibility that he will be sponsored either by the Bad Shepherd or his roommate Adam, who is hoping to franchise his company. (I guess they like clean windows in Australia!) Also, while both jobs won’t use his Science degree, it’s handy that he has post secondary education in order to be sponsored. Of course, we miss him dearly, but  he lives with a great “mate,” and he has a lovely girlfriend, Niamh, who is simply radiant. So life is groovin’ for him and he’s happy. Isn’t that what we want for our children?

Now you may be wondering what our soon to be, twenty two year old son Harrison is up to. “Not much good,” would be the teasing words from his Dad, but seriously he’s blowing us away with his focus and accomplishments. Who knew that this guy, who I lectured on the way to school each day, about rising to be your best self, would actually take my advice. He’s on the downward slope to completing his Commerce degree from U of Vic’s business school. He just completed a four month Co-op with BCI, out of Victoria and will start his last Co-op in January with a large, international company out of Vancouver. Thankfully, he can work from his home in Victoria. Also, this year he was chosen to be one of only a handful of students to form a team to manage the University’s investments, which is a prestigious opportunity and looks incredible on his resume. I’ll never forget how skilled he was at selling our junk, I mean, ahem, our treasures, during our family garage sales over the years. He was born for business! Who knew I could have saved my breath on all those trips driving him to school.

Are you wishing we had only four kids by now? Ha! Our number five, Grace Elizabeth, turned eighteen a few weeks ago and she will graduate from high school next June. It always surprises me how fast our children grow up but yep, she’s turning into a young lady who is busy applying to Universities and planning her life after high school. I think she wants to follow in Clark’s footsteps and attend UBC-Okanagan. It has a good Science program, which is the direction she is moving towards but it turns out she’s a pretty awesome writer as well. Last spring, she aced her AP English exam and has now bagged her first University credit. 

We always thought she was destined for medicine, as she loves to diagnose illnesses and this Covid 19 pandemic has heightened her interest in infectious diseases. Lately, she is showing a strong interest in Psychology; mental health specifically. Mitchell caught that same bug in grade 12, as there is an excellent Psych 12 teacher in their high school. Who knows where this interest will take her, but she’s kept many doors open which gives her options. She’s been ruminating about law as well and it may be a good fit for her down the road. She has strong critical thinking skills and boy, I have to tell you she is REALLY good at arguing her case!

 What I’ve learned while raising kids is that we can provide all sorts of opportunities for them in order to stimulate their interests and develop certain skills and talents, but in the end it is often fate that intervenes and shapes their future.  For us parents, it’s all about letting go and trusting. Anyway, for now, we are just trying to get through these challenging times and hoping Grace can find a nice prom dress.  

As I wrote earlier, our three youngest are at home and keeping us busy.  Will is in his sixth year of playing cello and the little girls are in their fourth year of playing violin. They both have wonderful teachers who keep things fun and are outstanding mentors. Last week, I video taped the kids playing some Christmas music, which we forwarded to our children’s music school, who will be compiling it and sending it off to ALL of the Extended Care homes in our area. Normally, the kids play in persons as the seniors love having young people around, but this year it will have to be a virtual concert.

If you want to hear a little of their music, scroll to the bottom, as I will link a few of their pieces. Also, this holiday season Grace (on piano) and William (on cello) have been playing a beautiful Christmas piece called, “O come, o come, Emmanuel.” I love it as it’s a piece we have sung during our Christmas Eve service in church. I hope to video them playing together and plan to add that to my YouTube, “Moments of Hope,” channel. SO STAY TUNED….no pun intended, ha.

As I mentioned earlier, our older children all played instruments, several actually since they were in the school band, jazz band and youth symphony. There were many times when it was difficult to keep them going because practising is hard. I’m glad that they persevered, as music is a wonderful teacher. Earlier this year, Alyssa found a piano in Victoria that needed a home and she has been working her way through all the classic pieces that she never had time for when she was consumed with obtaining a certain high level credential during University.  Also, Clark took his violin to Edmonton and says that playing relaxes him, even though he’s working on parts of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. He’s asked for violin strings for Christmas, which makes my heart sing!

Anyway, music is and always will be a strong way for our family to connect and don’t you think it’s the Universal language? I hope music fills your home this holiday season!

Well, I’m sure your coffee or tea is cold by now and if you added rum to your eggnog, any lovely relaxing effects have worn off. It’s getting late here and I’m up early with these little people, plus I have to drive Grace to school. We are counting down now to the last hours before the holiday break so I must close for now.

I hope that as this year  comes to an end, you know that I think of you often and hope you are well, happy and peaceful. Most of all I hope you are healthy. In all ways. This has been such a difficult, challenging year for all of us. I believe when we eventually look back and remember this time, hindsight will show us that this was sadly what the earth needed.

We needed to slow down. We needed to come together and realize that we ARE all connected. We needed to start taking care of our planet. Most important of all, we needed to remember what is truly important and that is being kind and considerate of each other. The Christmas season is a good way to end this year, as it’s the season of perpetual hope and is the time for us to light up the world with  love.

 “Merry Christmas!” May the light of this season warm your heart and may the New Year be filled with joy, peace and good health for all.

 Love and blessings from Hope

Christmas is almost on our doorstep and I’m travelling down memory road once again, thinking of my father who has been gone for most of my life. I’m also thinking of my son Mitchell, who is on the other side of the world and will be celebrating Christmas in Australia this year. As I decorate our house for Christmas, putting garland and lights on the wooden banister, there is a silent watcher. One day this past fall, as I moved quickly through the living room, I caught a glimpse of our son Mitchell’s cello standing in the corner. It spoke to me saying, “tell the story this Christmas.” And so, as this is yet another winter without my father, and one of our first holidays without Mitchell at home, I thought I’d share the story I wrote about both of them….and the cello that links them to me.

Without further to do, here it is:

The Call of the Cello

My father was a man’s man. He drove truck for a living, could swear with the best of them and coached hockey, with a warrior’s heart. He was also a romantic. He wrote poetry into the wee hours of the night. We’d be lulled to sleep listening to him tapping away on his old Underwood typewriter, while his fragrant, woodsy pipe smoke settled over us, like a warm, patchwork quilt. On Saturday night, when Dad started tuning his violin, my three, older sisters and I knew we were in for a laughter filled evening dancing, singing and clapping. The night always ended with a melancholy tune that would linger long after the last note ended. After Dad died in a truck accident when I was five, our house was hauntingly silent, like a big wad of cotton batten had been stuffed into every room.  Since then, I carry memories of him hidden in a box, deep in my chest.

Sometimes music lifts the lid.

The year after Dad died we moved from our little town of Hope to the larger city of Chilliwack. Our house remained dark and quiet until I started playing piano at age seven. I took lessons for two years and practised diligently on our small, three octave organ, but it wasn’t long before I had to pretend to play notes that weren’t there. There wasn’t money for a real piano. There was hardly money for lessons. Besides, my sister J, who had been taking ballet lessons, was showing natural talent. She would walk around the house like a Prima ballerina with a book on her head, and while washing the dishes suddenly drop into a deep plie. No, there was definitely no money for a piano. I don’t remember being overly bothered at the time. I joined our church’s youth choir and got involved with anything musical offered at school. 

But as childhood memories often do, they influence the choices we make as parents. When we started our family, I was emphatic that our children have their choice of extra curricular activities. While they chose everything from Irish Dance to Tae Kwon Do, the consistent thread that wove through our children’s lives was a musical one. They all chose an instrument, several in some cases, and we made sacrifices to give them all lessons. After school, our house was a cacophony of sound; piano, violin, flute, sax, guitar, drums, to name a few but for some reason, it was when our son Mitchell played his cello, that I was touched the deepest.

One evening, as I  was preparing dinner, Mitchell started to practise his cello. Scales first, steadily travelling up and down the fingerboard. Then he started to play an achingly beautiful piece called, “The Swan.” Low, deep resonating notes, contrasted with  heart breaking, high phrases that left me in tears. I could feel my father’s presence in the doorway, between where Mitchell was playing in the living room and where I was in the kitchen.

My father was beaming.

One by one, our older children left for University. A year and a half ago, Mitchell completed his Science degree. Last March, he decided to follow a dream he had for many years to visit Australia. Without knowing anyone, he left on this big adventure and is currently turning newly met friends into family. This past fall, I was thinking how life would be this Christmas without Mitchell and one day, as I was busily cleaning the house, I spied his cello. A warm, brown elegant piece of wood, standing silently in our living room, like a sentinel observing all the hectic activity in our house.

I pass the cello dozens of times every day without giving it a thought but suddenly it called to me. Its quiet presence spoke volumes and I felt a deep loneliness for Mitchell. From the moment he was born, he was an easy baby and he grew into such a happy little boy. His big goal every day was to have a good time but that was often difficult with a mom who had other ideas. I pushed our kids (and often still do, habits are tough to break) to work hard, to be the best they can be. I’m realizing now that their best was just in “being” themselves.

Mitchell has been a good teacher!

The cello also called me to remember my father. The few memories I have of him are also fun loving. He just wanted to have a good time in life too. His smile is something I remember the most about him. It may be too late for me to “BE,” the best mom for our four older children, since they are now in their twenties but listening to the cello this fall has reminded me that creating our life’s opus takes a lifetime and I hope I’m not quite done yet.

There’s still lots of music in our house. Our four younger children have all followed in their older siblings footsteps. Our sixteen year old daughter, Grace, plays piano and our youngest daughters, Kathryn and Victoria, who are eight and are twins, play violin. Then, like an echo left by Mitchell, our youngest son William has chosen to play cello. He started playing four years ago, when he was six, and is quickly out growing his current cello. At his last lesson, his teacher asked me if we still had a full size cello in our house, as he’s almost ready for it.

The other day while the kids were practising their music, I was at the kitchen table dabbling with my writing. I heard some rustling coming from the living room and then a familiar greeting, from an old friend filled the air. It vibrated with a lingering, ringing note. Dropping my pen I went to investigate. William was seated with Mitchell’s big cello hugged close to his chest, the bow, gently resting on the strings, was getting ready for another stroke. Will smiled up at me and said, “I’m just seeing if it fits me yet.” I didn’t respond, I just nodded and smiled back. I could feel Dad in the room grinning too and when Mitchell hears this story, I know he will be glad to share his cello with his brother.

Because when the cello calls you have to listen.

~The End~

Dear family and friends, I hope you enjoyed my Christmas story this year and as the season of light arrives, you and your family have a joyous holiday. Before I close, I want to share a song I first heard years ago when we took our children to see this movie in the theatre. The music and lyrics are the PERFECT way to end this post. The song is from the movie, “The Chronicles of Narnia, Prince Caspian,” and is called, “The Call, (no need to say goodbye)” One of the phrases is, “I’ll come back when you call me,” and if you are ever missing anyone, or have lost anyone, I think those words will resonate with you, for all we have to do is remember, and our loved one is with us again.

Wasn’t that amazing!!!

A wonderful way to say, “Merry Christmas to all….to my sweet son Mitchell in Australia…I’m soooo proud of you!!!! and to remember my Dad…love you always….I’m your opus!

Until we meet again, may you be well, happy and peaceful.

Blessings from Hope (aka Lee)