Can you recall a life-defining moment when something tragic happened that changed how you viewed yourself and life forever?

I had one of those moments the summer before my 15th birthday.

It was a spring night in Edmonton, Alberta. I had just turned off the TV when I was seized by a gut feeling that I needed to accompany my mom on her upcoming trip.

I asked if I could go with her. Maybe she thought being back in the fresh country air would help remind me of who the happy-go-lucky kid I once was. My teen years were difficult. It was a time when I was desperately seeking my own identity and trying to understand why life seemed so monotonous.

We would make the trip in our old black Buick, driving from Edmonton to Dawson Creek to visit her friend’s farm in the Peace Country where I was born.

When I asked her recently why she chose to spend her scarce bit of free time doing hard labour on a farm, she replied that the other option was a meditation retreat for $35 and with four kids and two dogs, she couldn’t justify spending the money. (I’ve since convinced her that spending money on herself is a good & necessary thing!)

We pulled up to the sprawling acreage with a small yellow rectangle house built around an old tree and were greeted by spitting lamas.

The weekend included movies, farm chores, spontaneous sermons on hell-fire and damnation, and deep conversations between them —- about me. Her friend was determined to hit me over the head with the bible, if need be, to get me back on track. Despite her insistence, I was on the dark side, I admired her determination and quirky sense of humour.

On Sunday, as steaks were cooking on the barbeque, I convinced myself that my gut feeling was anxious imagination.

The barn clock read 5 pm. It was time to do the final chore, and then we’d finally eat. That’s when the accident happened.

After many years of reflecting, I now understand and accept how desperation and fear cloud our best judgment and influence our daily decisions in subtle and crude ways. Under the delusion of fear, seized by the terror of loss, she told a lie that wreaked havoc on our lives for over a decade. As my mom says in the interview, her friend lived in fear of being caught for over 10 years. What a sad and lonely life!

Her friend died of cancer many years ago, but if I could speak with her today, I'd want her to know that I forgave her. I took that experience and made myself stronger because of it. I’m not pretending the experience wasn’t painful, frustrating, sad, and even infuriating. I acknowledged the feelings, worked with a counsellor, and moved on. I’ve worked hard to see her as I would want to be seen after doing something horrible: as someone who lacked the skills to do better at that moment.

My mom healed from a broken shoulder, pelvis, and other injuries over time. Walking became an integral form of healing and therapy. Our husky/wolf dog Jet proudly carried her essentials in a pack on their long walks.

I took the risk of doing this interview without the usual photos and footage.

On the one hand, there wasn’t much of either, but on the other, I just wanted to listen and hear her side of the story. Our parents and grandparents have wisdom to share, and I feel we must listen to them.

Enjoy!

Warmly,

Shana Lee