Because we have bereavement leave on top of holidays and then a bit of extra yet, we have until mid-February to grieve and heal here in Vancouver before returning to complete our contracts back in Beijing. It will entail moving back for roughly four months, continuing to teach, reuniting with Moondog, saying our goodbyes to many friends, and releasing ourselves from the country we have lived in for more than 20 years together: the country where we met our children, raised them, and lost one.

Having the privilege of grieving privately, in a little old lady house that holds all the elements of coziness, security, and stillness, is beyond grace. When Emily died, all we knew was that we needed to get back to Canada, to our Charlotte, and hold each other tightly. Even booking the flight, we had no idea how things would pan out when we arrived. Would we be huddled in a musty hotel room? In my sister’s basement? In Steph and Aman’s back room? Couch-surfing, as we usually do in the summers, with grief as an extra-large and very noisy companion?

Today I must list the graces we have been gifted and given; I must acknowledge how deeply our entire family is loved and how much people want to share their love:

I am grateful:

For this house that Donna and Blaine have given us, free of charge, for the entirety of our stay. There can be no greater gift than a 1959 bungalow in Port Coquitlam, that was lived in until short months ago by Donna’s 90-something year old mother. The house is like a warm hug.

For the car of my father’s – his Austin Cooper – that toodles up hills and barely contains our groceries, never mind our luggage, but is ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. And now my Daddy is back to walking everywhere all the time, which he does with grace – because he so much wants to extend his love to us. He is a man who understands sorrow and will do whatever he can to alleviate ours.

For our international school, that has graciously given us all the time we need, and how the community has come together to help us move, pack our things, arrange our flight tickets, take care of all the red tape of death, especially in another country, and has allowed us to completely absent ourselves from the process of school while the professional and loving staff figures out ways to carry on minus two integral teachers in the middle and high school.

For our school again, for honouring Emily’s life in so many ways, for acknowledging her death, for providing extensive and ongoing support for all Emily’s friends and classmates, all the teachers, everyone who has been touched by our dear Emily or by us, her family. How you have not only respected but honoured and are continuing to find ways to acknowledge our Emily and help those mourning through the shaken, everything-has-changed-now last semester of high school.

For all my friends in Beijing – for Rachel, for Christin, for Jenny, for Erica, for Ian, for Tom, for Helen, for Kerri-Lee, for Zhang, and for more of you than we can name – who have put in so much love and work to insure we are free from all obligations, other than the pressing need of grief, as you silently move behind the scenes to make it all happen. You have been the concierges of our grief.

For the community banding together to find Moondog when she ran away: this is a whole other blog/short story/children’s book/novel about the power of a community set on finding our dog, who in her own grief, ran away from her foster family, and was missing for more than a week. The army of people who came together to search for our beloved doggie is testament to a community who loves Emily and our family, and would do ANYTHING to support us, and this was such a tangible way to do so. We are forever grateful: Moon will be coming to live with us in this rich rainforest of Vancouver, having been the most looked-for dog in the history of Beijing. It is the stuff of legend.

For my beloved sister, Nicole, and brother, Anthoney, and their families, who have moved heaven and earth to support and love us and our family, in spite of their own deep grief over the passing of their beloved youngest niece. 

For our dear friends, Steph and Aman, Jay and Saleem – for making time, providing comfort, being there for us and providing food and libations and open ears and hearts, even in their own deep sadness.

For Heather, who has mourned Emily’s loss deeply and speaks with her everyday on her beach walks. For the ceremony she privately held for Emily on the beach by our house on Vancouver Island, and for the agate Emily found for her and that she will bring to me…

For the many hundreds of you who have reached out to us through notes, through emails, through this blog, through FB, through every avenue imaginable: I am touched and grateful beyond what I can express for the outpouring of love that I feel. I wish I had the energy to write each of you your own poem, expressing my gratitude. The comfort I have received from your condolences, your admissions, your soups and flowers, and socks, and quotes and wisdom and assurances of prayer and lifting us up, to your beliefs that Emily is now at peace and that she is watching down on us…all these things are akin to being swaddled in a soft feather bed with tea and lemon (and a big of sugar) by my side, along with an expansive view of mountains and a lake. That’s how I envision all your love.

For Charlotte, our eldest daughter, who cannot stop caring for us, even in her own grief. For the joy she radiates and we feel by just being in her presence.

Great grace has been bestowed on our family. Thank you for giving us ease and comfort during this most challenging of times. 

Today I will be thankful.