I see him, this young man, moving
aimlessly through the crowded living room.
The dining table is laden with food:
cold cuts, salads, desserts. Every now and then someone picks a grape
or strawberry from an edible display, one of those decorative
arrangements that uses fruit instead of flowers.
Still, there is no shortage of flowers.
The air is thick with their scent. Birds of Paradise swan gracefully
from a crystal vase. Orchids, roses, daisies, jostle for space on any
available surface.They seem so out of place in the dark, waning days
Every few minutes the doorbell rings
with another delivery. The dog has given up barking and hunkers down
under the dining table looking miserable.
Continue reading “Ripples”
Dad and I are at home. The front door opens. You walk in. We stare in disbelief. Our hands fly to our mouths. Our breath comes out ragged.
You look at us quizzically.
“Mom? Dad?” you say, stopping uncertainly in the middle of the room.
“What happened to you? You look so…” your eyes scan our faces in disbelief. “So. Old.”
Continue reading “David comes back”
Last Sunday evening 16-year-old Chloe Wiwchar was going home after spending some time with her friends. The Grade 11 Victoria High School student had to cross Kingsway, a busy and wide arterial road in front of the Alberta Aviation Museum.
The crosswalk had been recently upgraded, with bright, high-intensity flashing solar-powered lights. They are hard to miss.
But she never made it across. A pickup truck, reportedly driven by an Edmonton corporate lawyer, ran through the crossing, killing Chloe. To make matters worse, the driver sped away, but was followed by an alert off-duty police officer and later arrested. He has been charged with a number of offences including drunk driving.
Continue reading “Why Chloe Wiwchar’s death matters”
I dance around the word like a moth circling a bright flame. From a distance, I see its beauty. But if I fly too close it will burn me.
I try to live my life with kindness. I follow as best I can the Buddhist principle of Ahimsa, the practice of doing no harm to any living thing, including yourself.
Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don’t.
I am human. It is not always easy to be kind. It is not always easy to forgive.
Continue reading “Forgiveness”
A blast of arctic air pushes past me into the yoga studio. The sun has not yet risen, leaving those brave enough to venture out at the mercy of the ice fog and biting winds. It is January in Edmonton. The dead of winter is alive and well.
I hang up my parka, stuffing my mitts and toque into one sleeve. The snow is melting from my boots even before I pull them off. I begin to relax. This is my community. Here I can forget for just a little while what awaits me beyond these walls.
I have been coming to this space four or five times a week since January 2014. It is my refuge, my sanctuary. Here, I find peace from the ever-present reality that my son, David, is dead.
Continue reading “Yoga Breaths”
Holidays and celebrations are particularly difficult for people grieving the loss of a loved one. When our son, David Finkelman, was killed at the age of 27, our lives changed forever. This is an excerpt from my diary. I refer to David’s girlfriend as “M.”
Wednesday, February 14, 2018:
Valentine’s Day. We were hit by freezing rain overnight. This morning, I inched along behind the dog, my crampons all but useless on the smooth, glassy streets.
The snow danced wildly around me, whipped into a frenzy by the north wind. I was blinded by a veil of whiteness. Blinded by the white. Blinded by the light.
Valentine’s Day. Suddenly, I was remembering Valentine’s Day 2014. It came just weeks after David was struck and killed in a crosswalk. The bleakest of times. We were zombies, moving through a world we no longer recognized. Blinded by the darkness.
Continue reading “Valentine’s Day 2018”
Tuesday, September 6, 2016:
I have been frozen for weeks. Unable to write more than a handful of words.
It began with David’s boots. The shiny, black leather boots that laced up his ankles. He was fastidious with those boots, always polishing them, buffing them, to a high luster.
He had them on the day he was killed. The police returned them to us in a hospital-issue plastic bag. Continue reading “David’s Boots”
“Just the facts, ma’am.” The famous line attributed to the 60s TV show detective Sgt. Joe Friday was aimed at cutting through the investigative clutter. We could use Friday’s no-nonsense character today as we search for the truth about photo radar, speeding and how to make our roads safer.
Recently, such prominent people as Edmonton’s police chief, Rod Knecht, have waded into the debate. He told reporters, apparently without being asked, that he would favour an increase in the posted speed along Anthony Henday Road from 100 km/h to 110 km/h. He said it was his personal opinion that the safety of the route would not be compromised because people already drive that speed.
Within days, Alberta’s Transportation Minister, Brian Mason, waded into the fray announcing a government review of photo radar, to ensure it was not being used as a “cash cow” by municipalities.
Continue reading “Let’s talk facts, not opinion, on photo radar”
If you follow this blog you know that photo radar is a touchy subject with us.
Some people call it a “cash cow” for the municipalities which use it. To us, photo radar is a valuable tool in slowing traffic and saving lives. That is what the research says in many studies in a dozen different jurisdictions.
Since our son, David, was killed three years ago while crossing Whyte Avenue by a distracted driver, we have taken the time to read those studies and separate fact from fiction.
So when the new leader of the Alberta PC Party sent out a tweet this week asking people whether photo radar should be banned, our blood started to boil.
Continue reading “Playing politics with peoples’ lives”
I admit that it really bothers me when people start describing photo radar as a cash cow. But after police have come to your door to tell you that your son was killed crossing the street, you look at the world differently.
So when I turned on CBC Radio’s Edmonton AM Monday morning to hear that the topic of their “Morning Roast” was photo radar, I was prepared for the worst.
What I heard from my former colleagues left me yelling at my radio in outrage.
The “Daily Roast” is a panel of three people. This week it was political commentator, Brock Harrison and actor/comedians Sheldon Elter and Jana O’Connor. And certainly, there was a lot of laughing going on. O’Connor suggested jokingly that photo radar officers should dress up as sasquatches, so it would be funny when they gave you a ticket for speeding. Continue reading “Speed kills. No joke.”