So How Did We Do?

I usually say we launched The Tory Day Fund on June 8, just a bit more than three months after we said good-bye to Tory.

It’s not exactly true, though. The spirit of the campaign originated on February 9 with a sweet, simple text between friends. Always hopeful, Tory and her girlfriend Deb were conspiring about their plans to drink wine and do other girl stuff when Tory got back on her feet. Tory already had bigger plans:

“I’ll fundraise for chemo beds.”

She knew firsthand how much comfort one piece of hospital furniture brought her, and wondered why a bed was a luxury rather than standard equipment for her and other cancer patients. The chairs in which she sat for more than twenty chemotherapy treatments were fine, but the bed gave her a chance to rest peacefully, to sleep, and just be more … comfortable.

After she died a few of us met with the Sunnybrook Foundation to see how we could fulfill Tory’s wishes, and we had a modest goal: raise enough money to buy one bed for the Odette Cancer Centre at Sunnybrook. (And I had no idea how expensive these things are: at least $30,000!)

So how did we do?

Team Tory, we raised $68,256.64!

We more than doubled our original goal, and far exceeded our stretch goal of $50,000. In just four months.

IMG_20110729_181426So where will the funds go? Well, it turns out that it’s not as easy as simply buying more beds for the centre. They take up double the real estate that chairs do, which means half the number of patients can be treated – not a good thing for a treatment centre. So that has turned into a longer-term goal, when the centre can accommodate more space.

In the short term, you already know about the “buddy program” that will see a team of volunteers greet new chemotherapy patients at Odette before their first treatment and make their first day less dizzying. That program launches on November 6 and is entirely funded by The Tory Day Fund.

I’ve spoken with a number of people in the fundraising community and most are blown away by the success of our campaign in such a short amount of time. That we were able to raise so much money AND initiate a new program in the span of just a few months is astounding.

We’re also investigating other initiatives, like making more high-quality wigs available (each one costs at least $2,000!), and plan to see if we can bring the “buddy program” to other cancer centres.

So as much as we’ve accomplished, there’s still lots of work to do to bring Tory’s plans to life. This year’s campaign has ended, but the hard work is just starting. And planning for next year’s campaign is already underway. For as long as cancer continues to steal dignity and comfort from our loved ones, how can we stop trying to help?

THANK YOU!

J.

P.S. While the campaign is over for this year, our fundraising never stops. One way you can contribute is by making a monthly donation – for as little as $10 per month, you’ll enable us to hit our fundraising goal every year. Just go here and see the “Repeat this gift?” option.

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Giving Thanks, And Zero F*cks

Here’s another in our “year of firsts” this weekend: our first Thanksgiving without Tory. It also usually lines up with our wedding anniversary – we got married on Thanksgiving weekend 15 years ago – but this year our anniversary falls almost a week after.

And if you wondered why the heck Kate and I would celebrate Thanksgiving after the year we’ve had, you wouldn’t be crazy – what is there to be thankful for when you lose your mom and wife?

Well, it turns out, a lot.

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There’s a reason I think why fall is many people’s favourite season. In some ways it’s a time of nostalgia after the summer and a necessary break before the holidays and then the darkness of winter. For me it’s almost the anti-New Year’s – a time when you don’t look forward at the year ahead; instead you pause and reflect on the times behind you.

If I were to count my blessings this year I’d trail off to sleep before I finished. I’d need many more fingers and toes. I’d need an abacus (I’d also need instructions on how to use an abacus). The point is there are too many to count.

So let me instead focus on the things that have had the biggest impact this year, and why I’m most thankful:

  • Love: I can tell you with absolute confidence that without having #teamtory behind me (and in many cases in front and at my side), this year would be way darker than it has been. In fact most days I see no darkness, only light. I’m constantly amazed at how well Kate and I are doing but I shouldn’t be – we have the positive energy of every one of you powering us. If you’re reading this, you’re part of that energy.
  • The kindness of strangers: It’s easy to focus, especially now, on the negativity in the world. Even the jerk that cut me off on the way to Costco. People seem so centred on themselves. Give me a call the next time you think society’s going to hell, though. I’ll tell you about the university student who stopped me outside after seeing my presentation about The Tory Day Fund to donate with the cash in her pocket. Or the woman who wrote out the last cheque in her purse for the fund. Or the volunteer who brought Tory her soup at every chemo appointment. All complete strangers, and all memories I’ll hold for a lifetime.
  • My DNA: I never forget that I’m one of the most privileged people on the planet, and the only thing that I did to earn most of that privilege is being born a white male in Canada. I did nothing other than win a genetic lottery. That alone has given me opportunities that elude 90% of people on earth. Yes, I got an education, worked hard, saved – but the vast majority of the planet never gets a chance to do even that. So even though I’ve lost this year, there are literally billions who would trade places with me in a heartbeat.
  • Life insurance: This might seem an odd pick and maybe a bit too personal but let me explain my love/hate relationship. The hate part is easy: you only collect it when the person you love dies. It’s a premium you pay and never, ever want the payout. When you receive it, you might be racked with guilt like I was. But then you find the love in it. The fact that it provides a cushion to ease short-term burdens. And most importantly, it provides an opportunity to ensure your loved one’s legacy can live on. That’s what Tory’s insurance did. When I committed to matching all donations to The Tory Day Fund it wasn’t with my money (Mom, you can relax now). It was with the gift Tory left. So in a way we’re playing with the house’s money. And when that happens, we all win.
  • The past and present: The old saying “I wish I knew then what I know now” has never been more true. I used to think about it when reflecting on high school and my early twenties when life and love didn’t go my way. My mom would always remind me not to sweat the small stuff, but the stuff never seemed small at the time. Well, friends, it was and it still is. We spend an incredible amount of our lives worrying about things that we should really give zero fucks about. Do yourself and the people around you a favour and worry less. You’ll have more time to enjoy the present.
  • The future: I also learned this year to never wish time away. I used to think daily about the life Tory and I would live later in life, plan it to the smallest detail, and count down the days until we could make it happen. A lot of good that did me, eh? So instead of making that mistake again, I live the cliché of taking things day by day. I literally have no plans after October 14 except a Christmas party, a trip over the holidays with family, and a theatre night in March. It’s perfect.

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Kate and I got an early start at Thanksgiving with the Butlers on Wednesday, and will get together with my family (and the dogs, cats, chicken, ducks, geese…) on Sunday. However you celebrate it (and whenever you do it – whether it be this weekend or in the US in November), please promise me you’ll stop, be thankful for everything T gave you, Kate and me, and then be thankful for whatever life has given you this year. You may need to dig a little deeper to find it, but trust me, it’s there and it’s beautiful.

Happy Thanksgiving.

J.

P.S. I’m also thankful for the hundreds of people who have donated to The Tory Day Fund or bought tickets to our fundraising event, The Night of Nonsense. The campaign ends that night and it’s just a week away. If you can, please consider donating or buying your ticket today.

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The Most Important Things in Life Aren’t Things

I said a few words at Tory’s celebration of life that had deep meaning to me back in May, and even deeper meaning just a few months later as we wrap up the Summer of ‘17:


The most important things in life – they’re not things. They’re people, they’re experiences, they’re love.


I learned this from an early age, more out of necessity I guess than anything else. Growing up without much cash after my folks divorced when I was 6, things were in short supply. Unless you count my sister’s Raggedy Ann doll that I shot between the eyes with a water gun every chance I could with sniper-like precision.


We didn’t vacation, except the odd weekend in a pop-up trailer. There were no extravagant birthday parties, or sleep-away camps. I really can’t remember any birthday or Christmas gift from my childhood.


But I do remember the experiences. Playing hide ‘n’ seek until the late summer hours, swimming in the creek near Embro trying to catch crayfish, going on endless bike trips with no destination in mind (and no helmet!) and being treated to a birthday dinner at Mother’s Pizza.


What’s that saying, We don’t remember the words that are said, but we remember the way they make us feel? That’s kinda the way I feel about experiences, too.


Tory and I prioritized experiences as much as we could, especially with Kate. Sure Tory, her girlfriends and sister-in-law made sure Kate’s closet was fully stocked, and she had an American Girl doll for nearly every day of the week. But we always wanted to make sure she knew the importance of experiences, and to appreciate every last second of time she spent with family, friends and with us.


I’d like to say I’ve kept that spirit alive in the past six month, but that wouldn’t be true. What is true is you’ve all done it for me.


Without an invitation to Siesta Key for March Break, Kate and I wouldn’t have experienced laughter as quickly as we did. Without a breakfast invitation, I wouldn’t have had the guts to start this blog. Without offers of tuna casserole dinners, Kate wouldn’t have enjoyed one of her favourite comfort foods when she needed comfort the most. Without an invitation to a 50th birthday party, I wouldn’t have had the chance to re-connect with some of my favourite people. And without a nudge to just say “ah, fucket” and buy the tickets, Kate and I wouldn’t be going to see Bruno Mars tonight.


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And yeah, it took a tragedy to make it all happen. That sucks. The lesson I’ve learned though is being resilient means accepting the things I can’t change (thanks, Mom), and making the best of it.


What I’m hoping is that when Kate looks back on the time after her mom died, it won’t be with the type of mourning most people experience after death – it’ll become just a thing in her life. Instead I’m hoping she remembers the experiences with her mom that made her the luckiest girl alive. And the positive experiences we’ve all created for her since then, and the people that made that happen.


If the experiences of her next few years are anything like the past few months, the Story of Kate is just getting started and it’ll be a beautiful tale. Thanks for being my co-authors.


Have a great day.


J.


P.S. One of the next big experiences I’m looking forward to is Saturday, October 14, for The Tory Day Fund Night of Nonsense. If you haven’t bought it yet, get your tickets today.

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3 Random & Inspiring Acts of Charity

It’s been a rough week, no? With tragedies in Virginia, Barcelona, Burkina Faso and others it’s hard not to think we’ve all woken up in 1939 or 1965 – hell, even 1865.

Luckily for me it was also one of the most inspiring weeks I’ve had in a long time. Let me tell you why…

On Monday I heard about an initiative that someone whom I’ve never even met before wants to launch to deliver comfort kits to cancer patients at Sunnybrook in support of The Tory Day Fund. Her name is Peggy and she’s calling them Buddy Bags, and the kits will be filled with items like lip balm and crossword puzzles to help make patients more comfortable during their treatment.

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This concept is something I considered early on but put off … and here’s a complete stranger showing me how it’s done. Love it. I spoke with Peggy and her original plan was to produce 10 – and she’s now had double the orders in just a few days.

Interested? Contact Peggy to order yours today. And if you’d prefer to purchase a regular cinch sac of your own, Peggy is donating the proceeds of those orders to The Tory Day Fund.

Next, I was introduced to a woman you might remember from the news a few years back who went through her own personal hell after her autistic son was taken from her home around Christmas. Anne’s resilience led her to start Special Needs Dream Works, a charity supporting the creation of family or group homes as well as respite programs for people with developmental disabilities. Hearing that story alone would be inspiring.

But after learning about The Tory Day Fund from a mutual friend, she wanted to do even more. Anne’s also an award-winning hotelier and is hosting the Women in Tourism & WITHorg logo.PNGHospitality Conference in Toronto in September – and she’s chosen The Tory Day Fund as one of the three charities that will share in the event’s profit. And I’ll be at the event promoting the fund to the A-list execs from the hospitality industry.

You want more? OK, there’s more – I did promise you three inspiring acts, didn’t I.

I was already on cloud nine this week when on Thursday I got a text from my sister-in-law Angela that simply said “Kleenex alert!” And I’ve been conditioned to know what’s coming because of this story.

Here’s what the next text said, along with a picture of Tessa, my niece:

“I want to donate my hair to help all the little sick kids that were sick like my Aunt Tory. I think about her every day and how I can help people like her and donating my hair was one of my ideas.”

IMG_7983.jpgThat girl is even more beautiful on the inside than she is on the outside. I’ll likely crack her ribs with the hug she’ll get tonight.

I knew the idea of improving the comfort of cancer patients was compelling when we launched The Tory Day Fund, and I looked forward to the day when it got beyond the grassroots level. I just didn’t expect it to happen just two months after we launched.

Thanks to Peggy, to Anne, to Tessa and all of you for the inspiration.

Have a great weekend.

J.

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From One Cottage Dream to Another

Almost six years ago and after many years of mooching cottage weekends from friends and family, Tory and I decided to buy our little corner of paradise. We bought a small place on a quiet bay in Haliburton from the original owners who started vacationing on it in 1963 and who built the cottage by hand in 1983. Finally becoming cottage-owners was a dream come true. Kate even invested $50 of her own money for the down payment.

The previous owners left us a beautiful, heartfelt letter explaining the history of the place and how they grew it from being a rustic trailer site by adding a small bunkie they used for playing cards, and finally adding the main cabin. The wife also mentioned how her dad spent countless hours fishing, but never caught “the big one”.

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Since then we’ve visited what we now call Willow Woods (no offense, Jack – we’ll find something to name after you too. Maybe the sofa you sleep 23 hours a day on) nearly every weekend from spring to fall, and regularly throughout the winter.

Not long after we bought I learned of an organization called Cottage Dreams, which matches cottage owners with cancer patients recovering from treatment. The cottages are donated and made available for patients to reconnect with family and rejuvenate for a week.

I loved the idea. For me cottage = comfort. It’s impossible to not feel comforted sitting on the end of the dock and hearing the water splash against the rocks. Or not hearing anything at all. If there’s a heaven I hope it looks a lot like this:

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And as many good ideas do, this one sat tucked away in a drawer until the right moment. Or I guess the wrong moment in my case. When Tory died I searched for ways for Kate and me to give back to the growing community of cancer patients and survivors. I remembered the card I picked up those years ago, and after completing the application, writing a description of the cottage and sending in a few pics, our first guests were booked within a couple hours.

They arrive this Sunday, a female cancer survivor and another five adults.

Why did it take such a short time for the cottage to be booked? Believe me it’s not because it’s anything special (well I think it’s special…). It’s just 850 sq. ft. – the municipality won’t even let you build a cottage that size anymore. There just aren’t enough cottages available in the program, and my bet is it’s because not enough people know about Cottage Dreams or programs like it.

Hopefully that changes soon. Can you help them out and share this post with your friends and family? And if you’re interested in the program – either because you have a cottage or maybe you know someone who could benefit from it – let me know.

We’ve never rented Willow Woods, so there’s six years of stuff to clean up – it’ll be a busy Saturday. Kate and I will do what we can to make our guests feel welcome before we hand over the keys. That way they can spend more time sitting on the dock and finding “the big one” lurking in the bay.

Hope they find comfort, too.

Have a great weekend.

J.

P.S. As of this Monday we’re just two months out from The Tory Day Fund Night of Nonsense, our fundraising event. It’ll cap what I expect to be a successful fundraising campaign and I can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday night than with you all. Have you bought your ticket yet?

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Just Don’t Call it a Bucket List

  • Jason Fiorotto
  • Living
  • Jul 28, 2017

Some of you know I’ve been trying to make the last five months – crazy that it’s been that long already – as positive as possible for Kate. Call it our Making the Best of Tragedy Tour. We’ve surrounded ourselves with friends, family and frankly anyone who’s asked us. We’ve traveled, shopped, danced (poorly), watched hoops, sang (mostly me, and way off-key), and just relaxed when we wanted to. And for the most part I’ve been the ringleader to make it happen.

But earlier this summer she asked if we could do something that blew me away….

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Yep, she wanted to hang 1,200 feet in the air off the side of the CN Tower from a two-inch cable.

The thing you learn quickly about Kate is she can be quiet, sometimes even shy. She’s no daredevil, even this past weekend she declined to try the cottage rope swing. I’m not exactly sure why she wanted to do the EdgeWalk, but she did. And who the hell am I to say no – especially after what she’s been through.

So this past Wednesday we did it, just before heading to the Jays game where they beat the A’s with a walk-off HR in the 9th. (We left in the bottom of the 8th – I used to hate those fans who left early. Now I am one.)

Incredible. I’ll remember for the rest of my life the confidence Kate showed cruising around the platform like she lived there, dangling into thin air, looking down at the planes taking off from the island airport.

Speaking of the rest of my life (smooth segue, eh?) … We always went as a family to the Cottage Life Show and there’s one vendor who always had a sign that’d make us laugh:

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We’d giggle like schoolgirls (at least Kate has an excuse). But I always found a deeper meaning to it too. Mostly because I despise the idea of a bucket list.

I’m all for having those things in life that you aspire to do, have or be. That’s part of what makes life fun and fulfilling. But here’s the thing: Your reward for checking off all the items in your bucket list? Kicking the bucket. Dying.

I much prefer a fucket list. Those can be the things from your bucket list, but they also include the things you don’t plan for and shouldn’t pass up. A buddy asks you to grab a beer at the last minute. Someone wants you to go on an unexpected vacation. Your daughter asks you to go for a walk outside the top of perfectly good building. Those are the things worth living for. “Ah, fucket.”

What’s that saying – the only things you regret are the things you say no to?

Back to the EdgeWalk for a second. Kate and I were talking on the way home how the anxiety of it was way worse than actually doing it. Walking out of the tower onto the platform, staring at the clouds was almost comforting. It was a really odd feeling.

Then Kate told me why, and it made all the sense in the world.

“I guess it’s because we were closer to Mom.”

Man, she’s brave beyond her grief and wise beyond her years. How did I get so lucky? #thankstory

Have a great weekend.

J.

You know what’s at the top of my list? Raising $50K to fund programs that improve the comfort of cancer patients. I appreciate every dollar of every donation that’s been made to The Tory Day Fund – you’re making a real difference by donating. Thanks to all of you.

 

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Whoa, This Just Got Real – Can You Help?

I have some incredible news to share about The Tory Day Fund!

Sunnybrook has confirmed that they will be launching a “buddy” program for cancer patients this year! And our discussions with them about The Tory Day Fund have been the catalyst to make it happen.

Remember when we launched the fund just six weeks ago with a focus on improving the comfort of cancer patients, and told you about this example from Tory’s experience to highlight how a “buddy” program could have a big impact?

The first treatment day for most chemotherapy patients is dizzying. Despite the efforts of treatment centres like the Odette Cancer Centre at Sunnybrook to make the experience run smoothly, there are countless tips and tricks that are only learned with experience. A “buddy” program that matches cancer patients entering treatment with a former patient or caregiver would provide more comfort on this critical day.

Throw me to the wolvesWith almost 25,000 chemotherapy treatments administered per year (stop and let that number sink in for a minute), the Odette Cancer Centre at Sunnybrook recognizes the need to make patients’ first experience less stressful – more comforting even. The early plans for the program include:

  • 2-4 volunteers welcoming patients and their families to the centre
  • Measures to improve patient comfort during and after their visit — for example, better quality wigs

Here’s the thing, though: Sunnybrook cannot launch this program unless we meet our fundraising goal of $50,000. I need your help to make it happen. If you were ever planning to contribute, now is the time — here’s how:

Sunnybrook logoSome of you might still be hesitant to donate … Maybe you don’t live in the Toronto area and want to donate closer to home. Maybe you didn’t know Tory well and you want your donation to be more personal. Maybe you’re just leery of charities in general. I get it.

Donations to charities are decreasing and that’s making life very difficult for even large non-profits like the Canadian Cancer Society. Personally I think some of that is self-inflicted: donors are tired of not seeing the direct impact of their donation, and they’re tired of seeing dollars wasted on administration and high-cost mailings. Here’s why The Tory Day Fund is different:

  • Your donation will directly fund the “buddy” program at Sunnybrook – you will know your dollars made a difference
  • We’ll ensure the funds are used to improve patient comfort by relying on volunteers as much as possible, and minimizing overhead costs

IMG_20151013_215042 (2)If I still haven’t convinced you to donate, let me give it another shot – and I’ll admit this one is pretty personal. Here’s why I’m desperate for this program to launch, and it’s not just because it’s sorely needed.

It’s our chance to provide a powerful legacy for Tory’s family, her friends, and her colleagues… and for anyone who’s lost a loved one to cancer. This our chance to turn an absolute tragedy into something beautiful, offering a program that will make the lives of thousands of cancer patients more comfortable – even just for a day:

  • Donate for Tory, who despite living life to the fullest was robbed of almost half hers.
  • Donate for Tory’s mom Linda, who fought and lost the same battle more than 20 years ago.
  • Donate for Hal and Matt and Peter and their families, who lost their ringleader.
  • Donate for Tory’s girlfriends, a legendary group of women who lost their top troublemaker.
  • Donate for Kate, who lost the best mom she could ever dream of having.
  • Donate for your loved one, so their legacy lives on.

We have just 86 days left in The Tory Day Fund campaign and need exactly $33,141 to make the buddy program at Sunnybrook a reality. Thank you for your support!

Have a great day.

J.

P.S. Please help us get the word out by sharing, liking … anything to amplify our message. Thanks!

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A Few More Random Thoughts on Grief

  • Jason Fiorotto
  • Grief
  • Jul 15, 2017

I’ll admit I post for pretty selfish reasons – it gets thoughts out of my head, and helps me spread the word about the great things happening with The Tory Day Fund – but it looks like last week’s on grief struck a chord with a few of you. It’s been seen by almost 1,500 people on Facebook and I’ve heard from family, friends, and friends of friends in the past week about its impact. Incredibly inspiring.

IMG_20160508_174108 (2)Why the interest? I chalk it up to a couple reasons:

  1. Grief is universal and unavoidable. We all go through different periods of grief during our life, whether it be because of job loss, a failed relationship, or the death of a loved one. (Hopefully not all at once, though – write a country song if that’s you.) And somehow, despite the fact that every living thing on earth since the beginning of time dies, we haven’t evolved enough to conquer grief. So we look for ways to manage it better.
  2. We’re usually afraid to publicly share our grief, or really any sign of mental weakness. Thankfully that’s changing. The Bell #letstalk campaign, celebrities who share their story, like the Jays’ closer Roberto Osuna who recently went public with his struggles with anxiety, have taken mental health into the mainstream. We (OK, not me but some people) take selfies at the gym showing off physical health. There are countless books and magazines on financial health. People worship for their spiritual health. But mental health has been hidden in the shadows until now. I guess you appreciated the openness about my struggles — misery loves company, right? (And did you see how the story spread quickly this week when a CEO at a US tech company responded to an email from an employee who told her team she was taking the next couple days off for her mental health? Pretty cool.) Hey, I warned you this post would be random.

Speaking of books, I just picked up Option B, co-written by Sheryl Sandberg, the author of Lean In and COO of Facebook whose husband Dave died suddenly a couple years ago. A few friends had recommended it to me and within a few minutes of picking it up I was hooked – Sheryl’s thoughts and experiences were similar to mine since Tory’s death and I’m thankful mine aren’t unique. (The title comes from a conversation Sheryl had with a friend when she was planning how to handle her kid’s upcoming ‘father-daughter dance’ at school, and how Dave wouldn’t be there for it. Her friend responded by telling her that option A isn’t available – but together they’d kick the shit out of option B. I can relate.) Pick up the book or join the Facebook group if you’re interested.

OK, last week I gave you five reasons why I’ve been able to survive my grief recently, and I have a couple more this week:IMG_20160520_114133

  1. These two mutts: Willow and Jack are Kate’s and my constant companions and any dog lover will tell you they’re indispensable when dealing with grief. At the very least they get me out of bed every morning for a walk – especially days when I want to sleep the day away and wish the roller coaster would end by the time I get up. (And hey, Kate and I are volunteering for After the Track, the greyhound rescue we got Jack from in late 2015, this weekend at Dog Days of Scugog. If you’re in the Port Perry area on Sunday afternoon, come by and say hi.)
  2. Spirituality: Kate manages her grief exceptionally well and there are times I’m worried she’s not dealing with it and it’s bottling up inside her. Her specialist is happy with Kate’s progress and when I pressed Kate for her secret – she told me she feels her mom’s spirit around her to provide strength and guide her in the right direction. Kate’s already learned that you don’t have to be religious to be spiritual.

That’s it. No more on the topic of grief, for now anyway. I’ll get back to writing about The Tory Day Fund and improving the comfort of cancer patients next week. I guess the topics aren’t completely unrelated though … Regardless of whether you’re going through cancer or grief — comfort is key.

Have a great weekend.

J.

PS, if you don’t mind these updates be sure to share the post and ‘like’ The Tory Day Fund on Facebook or subscribe to this web site (you’ll find a quick form on the right sidebar of this page). Thanks.

 

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5 Steps to Beat Grief (For a Week)

I planned this week to write about the news that Canada’s cancer charities continue to merge. Two heavyweights, the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation and the Canadian Cancer Society, joined forces earlier this year, and this week the Colorectal Cancer Association of Canada and Colon Cancer Canada did the same. Both mergers are a strategy to reduce expenses amid declining support, which is a tough read for those of us starting up a new charitable fund. Also in the same article: Canadians donate far less than Americans. I felt the post-Canada Day buzz wear off a bit quicker after reading that one.

I changed course though … maybe I’ll get back to that topic another time. Instead let me get a bit more personal and tell you about my week. Hope you don’t mind.

3 red chairsThis week has always been a fun one. It’s the first week that Kate’s out of school, Tory and I would always take the week off and head north, host friends, celebrate Canada Day, and eat and drink too much.

Last year we started out on the same path, but mid-way through the week we hopped on a roller coaster that wouldn’t stop … and hasn’t stopped yet.

That was the week Tory told me that she feared she had breast cancer.

And it was the way she did it that will stay with me forever. She asked me to go to the dock for a bit to talk, and I made some lame joke (as I do). Once we sat down she told me she suspected that her breast was inflamed with a tumour, and from what she could tell it was aggressive, and that in her research (read: googling) it meant that she’d be gone by Christmas.

(BTW If any of you knew Tory and ever for one minute doubted her strength (and there were times she doubted it herself), I wish you could’ve seen the unbelievable poise, courage, calmness, fierceness, whatever, that she delivered that news with. My god that woman was strong when it mattered most.)

So making plans for the holiday week this year was obviously going to be different – the memory of that experience is burned on my brain. When I talked about it with my psychologist at Sunnybrook a few weeks ago, I told her my strategy for dealing with this week would be the same as it was for any of our “firsts” this year: direct my grief into something positive. Just like we did for Mother’s Day, Tory’s birthday, and will for our anniversary, Christmas…

“Why?” she asked. She said it’s impossible to “direct” grief. Grief just comes Kate and Juliaat you whether you want it to or not, and no matter how much you try to control it.

She’s right. My battles with grief are like John Bender and his dad in The Breakfast Club: “F*ck you, Grief” … “No, f*ck you, Jason”. Punches are thrown, tears shed. Then it’s over until next time.

You can plan for grief all you like, you can try to steer it, postpone it or avoid it altogether. But you really can’t make it go away. It’s best to accept the blows are coming, find a comfortable place to fall, and wait for the bell.

You know what, though? This week wasn’t a total loss. Despite fearing grief would overwhelm me, it didn’t. Kate and I generally had a good week. And I have an idea or five why I won a couple rounds with my foe:

  1. Time: The first month or so after Tory died was filled with daily – even hourly – run-ins with grief. Now they’re far less frequent.
  2. Kate: 100% she’s the reason I make it through each day. My single goal in life is to make this tragic experience as positive as possible for her. So we had a friend up for her, we ate ice cream nearly every day, we played games, we binged on The Office. And we talked a lot – about nonsense and life all at once.
  3. Friends and family: I really have no words to describe how important this has been to Kate and me, so I won’t even try. All I’ll say is “showing up” like you do – a quick call or text, coffee, lunch, dinner or a cottage dance party until 6am – makes the difference between a crappy day and an acceptable one. Don’t stop 🙂
  4. The Tory Day Fund: It gives me a way to extend Tory’s legacy, and it channels my grief into something positive for Kate, Tory’s friends and her family. Even on vacation this week I made time to connect with a couple charities to learn what thAngusey do right, and to get the next version of toryday.org ready for launch in a couple weeks.
  5. Writing these updates: I’m usually better writing than talking, and having a way to share my thoughts and support the Fund and connect with friends and family? That’s huge. Getting to write it while looking over the lake a little after sunrise made it even more therapeutic this week.

I feel pretty good all in all, and you can bet that brings some guilt – Tory’s not here to share in any good stuff.

And just so I don’t start feeling like I’m out of the woods just yet, I’m reminded that I’m far from it. First, Kate’s specialist tells me grief is life-long (dammit!) so it’s best not to gloat about winning a round. And grief is random – despite my best plans, he’ll sucker punch me and knock me out cold when I least expect it.

Oh, I’ve also learned that grief is personal – what works for me won’t necessarily work for someone else. But if you think this post could help others going through grief of any kind — please share it.

Thanks, and have a great weekend.

J.

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