I bought this print at a yard sale about 35-40 years ago because it made me smile and think of Mart; it was a few years after I left him.

It hung in our entry for at least three decades. It continues to hang in our home we moved into three years ago.

He was freed finally, January 12, 2024. I am sad about that.

This print has a history much to my surprise! I decided to look up the tiny signature on it and discovered that it was once a very popular print. Maybe it still is. The artist was Byron Fish. He died about 30 years ago.

Interestingly, “Dorothy” seems to claim that she painted it. This note appears on the back…

Mart’s mom was a Dorothy but I doubt it was her making that claim.

Here is something she did make!

I had not seen this one before. How would be 12 and Mart 14. Photo taken after a good day, in the trophy room, at the Banook Canoe Club. Mart and How seem to be casting adoring gazes on one another. That’s the way it was.

The following day we left Rob’s ashes on his favourite ski hill, Norquay, just outside Banff. Really, really hard for me to do.

I noticed this today on one of his life pictorial collages I made for Rob during his last months, as I walked by it.

Oh, wait, I know. $’s. 😊

The Banook guys getting ready to leave for the Canadian National Championships, Mooney’s Bay, Ottawa.

Fifty eight years ago today Martin and I did a thing. We met up at 3:00 pm, with friends and family, and got married in Christ Church, Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. Right where we had our first date 64 years ago in February, 1961.

We all went to Oakwood House and had a party at the same place we had our high school graduation party.

After that we drove off in Martin’s 1960 Austin Healy 3000 to our honeymoon of one week’s duration.

We headed down the Eastern Shore to Liscomb Lodge, where we stayed for a few days.

Martin worked in the close by Sherbrooke Village, during the summer of 1965 and 1966, while he was a student. He stayed at the lovely St. Mary’s Lodge, run by Mrs Estelle Cumminger during those summers. She kindly made us a wonderful breakfast. She died in 1981, but the lodge she ran for years continues to flourish. So does Liscomb Lodge. We camped in Cape Breton and Prince Edward Island for the rest of the time. It was often cold and wet.

Our marriage survived only 17 years. But it wasn’t as if we didn’t try.

The only photo I have from our wedding is this one of my late sister and her boyfriend. I had a lovely long chat with him last week.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day – my children are on my mind. Martin’s and mine. Not to mention Rob’s stepdad and caregiver of 19 years duration. Robin never had the chance to reach his potential. Stacey is flying high. Technically, Stacey is my niece but her mummy died before she could know her. She is a Nurse Practitioner!

Robin went to Armbrae Academy his first five years of schooling. He loved that school.

Today my great niece played in two NS All Star basketball games at Armbrae. She’s 15 and goes to school in Yarmouth. I thought about going to Armbrae to watch her game, but then thought the better of it, so watched on YouTube. I thought I would get weepy if I went into the building. So I didn’t. The games were awesome. Won one, lost one.

Off and on I have regretted giving some of our son’s ashes to his father, because they have been used to bolster a business. Likely his father would not have done that, left to his own devices. I paid for all Rob’s final expenses.

I have seen several “stories “ over the last few years that some of Rob’s ashes are on a ski hill in Mont Tremblant. One or two of them meant to jerk your tears – maybe open your wallet.

Rob was there before his ashes, in a different form, many years ago. He was in my body. I am so happy to have come to this amazing realization: a fine balance. Took a while!

Martin always loved to ski. When I first met him, he had a ratty old pair of skis made of wood, with leather straps. I didn’t have any skis, but would go with him to Brightwood Golf Course, watching while he polished his skiing skills. A few years later he got some better skis and I got myself some. Never really did love it like he did.

Some years after we were married, we moved to Montreal, and I was pregnant, he got some excellent new skis. He was so excited about that.

Being pregnant, not being crazy about skiing, I would go with Mart to Mont Tremblant on weekends, and just watch and wait for him. Same old same old.

It is fitting that some of Rob’s ashes are on Mont Tremblant. The rest are on Mount Norquay in Banff, a place where he actually skied. A lot.

It’s also fitting I post this on February 14, 2025.

Yikes! So long ago!