The Deletist

I dreaded returning to my childhood home for visits the year following my father’s death.  During my daily life I could manage to float through each day in a bereavement fog, enveloped in my grief, but without any major triggers.  A trip home meant being reminded of the loss 24/7.

One of the most difficult parts was getting used to the shock of not seeing my father at the train station to pick me up.  Every time I visited I could feel my steps slowing down as I walked to the station from the train.  By the time I got on the escalator for the final ascent to the station I would be near tears, struggling to breathe around the weight building in my chest.  I would emerge and not see him.  It started off every visit on a bad note.  I was instantly cranky and upset.

Once my mother understood this, she made sure that she was there at the top of the escalator to run interference and greet me.  She would swoop over to hug me before the shock of not seeing my father had a chance to settle.  It was a small gesture, but one that touched me deeply.  And over time, helped to heal the hurt by creating new memories.

More than a decade later, I’m continually reminded of this small, silent action of my mother’s because I see that she is always doing nice things for me out of love.  I think moms have a special knack for hearing their baby’s cries, no matter what age.

A friend and I discussed this the other week. He was about to participate in a special tribute concert to Prince as part of the choir.  He wondered if his mom would be able to hear his voice out of the crowd.  I remarked how proud I was of my mother because she could always hear me in the orchestra (~60-70 people).  I attributed this to the long years she suffered through listening to my practice sessions, a real testament of her love.

But my friend had a different thought.  He said of course she could hear my “voice” in the orchestra and compared the situation to a colony of penguins.  To our ears, thousands of penguins communicating all sound the same, but parents and chicks are easily able to recognize their distinctive calls and find each other in the crowd.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Dedicated to Mom, and all the mothers of the world.

Every year when spring finally comes, I reacquaint myself with the bees that have been missing from the landscape during the long winter months.  I am continually humbled and amazed by these tiny creatures buzzing tirelessly from flower to flower collecting pollen.  As one of the world’s mighty pollinators, everything they touch turns to gold in the form of honey, honeycomb, bee pollen, royal jelly, wax and probably some other bee products I don’t even know about.

These fascinating insects have also inspired expressions commonly used in English such as:

• busy as a bee
• bee in your bonnet
• the birds and the bees
• queen bee

One bee busily collecting pollen from a thistle in Montreal’s Parc des Rapides.

I enjoy watching bees busily collecting pollen, moving from flower to flower.  I love hearing the soft, hum-like buzz of their wings.  It turns out I always liked bees. I drew tons of them as a child, something I rediscovered last summer while going through boxes of my childhood art. When I was about 7 or 8, I showed my appreciation for this magical insect by turning myself into one for Halloween. My mother even sewed a stinger.

A bee buzzing around some echinacea in my mom’s garden.

For nearly a decade I’ve been reading about the mysterious disappearances of bees called Colony Collapse Disorder [CCD].  Often pollution is cited as one of the main reasons, but I’m sure it is due to any number of factors.  The results, however, will be dire for the world’s plants, many of which depend on bee pollinators for their survival.  This includes many foods we enjoy eating like apples, cucumbers, and pears.

I feel sad when I think about these tiny, magical creatures that are so rarely considered as they work industriously to provide beneficial things.  When I do see bees, I always take a few moments to pause and watch them, giving silent gratitude for the many wondrous things they do for us, including the production of honey a personal favorite.  I appreciate that they’re still around.  I also have a healthy amount of respect for the apiarists of the world, who tend to and care for the bees.

A lot of campaigns have started in the last few years to save the bees.  If you’re a fan of bees, like me, or maybe just realized how important they are as pollinators, do a search and find out what you can do.

A bee buzzing around during one of morning commutes on the bike last summer.