We often go weeks, months or even years at a time between seeing family members. Not through lack of desire, but as one of my other posts says, life seems to be busy, and as I’m aging, I realize how fast time is really going. I remember as a kid hearing my parents or grandparents say things along those lines, and I never really understood what they meant. Summer was long hot golden days, school lasted forever, and being 30 was old! Now I’m nearing 50, the summer days fly by so fast, and work still lasts forever! I’m sitting here listening to a song called “You’re gonna Miss this”, and it seems more true now than ever.

We were blessed this past summer to attend 3 weddings, each so very different, and each so very special and memorable in its own way. The first was on Greg’s side of the family, and the other 2 were on mine. Our families are so big that different people attended each one.  I realized how much I really miss our families when we got to see them again. We go through the days, not thinking about anything else really except getting through the work day, and looking forward to each weekend and they all seem to go so fast, but then when there’s a wedding, all of a sudden time seems to slow down for a while as we sit and tell stories and share memories, and laugh and feel so connected by getting to meet our cousins kids, or their spouses or significant others. The memories we share bring us closer together, and as I sat at each wedding, I noticed how many similarities there are with my children to their cousins, and it’s weird how when we’re with Greg’s side of the family, we see those similarities, but when we’re with my Mom’s side, I see those, and yet when I’m with my Dad’s side I see those. It’s sometimes in the shapes of the eyes, or the smile, or color of hair, but more often than not, it’s in the mannerisms, or sound of the voices or when they laugh, but it always amazes me how many similarities there are. Greg looks like his brothers Lorne and Leo, and sounds even more like them! He does things like scratches the back of his neck when he’s frustrated, just like his dad did. He always tells me that I look like my Auntie Viviane and act and sound like my Auntie Mona. He means them as great compliments, he adores them as much as I do!

I find it interesting to think about the genetics and history that comes from our parents, grandparents and great grandparents. I am lucky in my life to have a long traceable history on both sides of my family. I wish when I was younger I knew then what I know now to be true… that all things come to an end, including having our grandparents, and even our parents. I wish I would have sat and listened to the stories they told more often…and that I would have appreciated time more. But I think that only comes with age. Every time we lose someone, it’s harder and harder because it makes us all realize our time with each other is so short, and oh so precious.

My brother Kelly and my dad have been tracing some of our family history on both Dad’s parents sides of the family and some on my Mom’s side too. It’s so incredible to me that we can trace both the Smith and Bouvier side to the very beginnings of Canadian history, to the early 1600’s in both Canada and the US, and even further back into France and England. To think of the courage and strength it must have taken those people to climb on the ships to come here, knowing that they very likely may never reach the shores of “New France” or “The America’s”. Three and four months on a ship, or longer;  that when the water ran out, there was no more fresh water or food. That there were storms and rats and sickness, and that if, and that was a big if, they were lucky enough to reach the shores, there was nothing here but long, hot, mosquito infested summers of hard torturous work, and even longer, colder winters filled with life threatening blizzards, even more sickness, unbearable loneliness, or the possibility of the “savages” attacking. It’s incredible to me, as I sit in my nice warm house to think about what they went through, and to think that this was my family… and that that is where and who I come from. And it wasn’t just that generation, it was every generation after that. From the very first of our line who landed in Canada, to my great-grandfather who moved from Quebec to Southern Saskatchewan to set up a homestead there, to my own Dad who moved our family from Southern Saskatchewan to Alberta to start his own business. Those moves are what have helped to settle this country, and to make it what it is today. It amazes me too, to think of my Mom’s parents who came from Scotland and Ireland in the 1800’s, to do the same thing. As I read the history books of the settling of Canada, I can’t help but feel a great sense of amazement and pride that this is who I descend from. I know that many First Nations resent us, but some of those First Nations became my relatives too.  These people risked everything down to their very lives to create a better life for themselves, and by doing so, have, in large helped create the life I take so for granted now.

It’s interesting to me to watch my brothers pick up their families and move to start new lives too. It makes me realize that there is a little bit of our adventurous grandparents in them too. And that they have spouses who are also adventurous and courageous. And as our children reach the age of adulthood are doing the same thing in their own way too. Many of the kids are choosing travel and adventure over the “standard job”. Good for them, but it’s interesting too to me that many of the current generation think they are the first “adventurers” in their families, but if they look at the history of their families, most of our grand parents, great grandparents etc, came from other countries to Canada to make better lives, and now so many people are complaining about the immigrants coming here and “taking” our jobs. Most of the immigrants that I know, and I know many, are doing jobs that we don’t want, or won’t do because it’s “beneath us”. Many of those immigrants are far better educated than we are, but can’t get jobs in their own fields without doing their full training all over again. It’s just not worth it to many of them to do that, so they clean the malls, or pick up garbage, or drive cabs, or work at Tim Horton’s, but they are “taking our jobs”. Many of my friends who have come from other countries live and work together to buy one family a home, then do the same for the next family and the next. We, in the Western culture can’t seem to do that. We grow up, move out, kick our kids out at 18 and tell them ” Go! Have a good life! See you when you visit next time!” Thankfully, not everyone is like that.

This  past year was Canada’s 150th birthday. That’s pretty exciting! But what is really cool to me is that like a few of our friends’ families, we have nearly 400 years of history here in Canada. Greg and I have been blessed to travel a bit, and have visited Quebec City, Windsor, Ontario, New Orleans, and so many more places in the last few years. What I enjoyed the most about these places,(and every place we go), is the fascinating history. Our Canadian history truly is one of determination, courage and resilience. So much so that from the early 1600’s to the mid 1700’s we had settled much of Eastern Canada, fought wars both for and against Britain and France, and by the 1700’s there were still not many families in Canada, maybe few thousand, and yet in 1755 the Government decided unless people swore allegiance to Britain, being French and being Catholic was against the law, and so deported something like 400 families from their homes and lands, and sent them out of Canada. These families were on ships for months before the government decided what to do with them. They finally decided to send them to parts of the US like Maine and Connecticut, but many of them ended up in New Orleans, though other areas such as France and the Caribbean, too. These were the Acadians. Most of them came from what is now known as Annapolis Royal, but was known by Champlain as Port-Royal in Nova Scotia. Eventually, many of these families returned to Quebec, had families there, and I am one of their descendants. The history of our country is short in comparison to European history, but is fascinating, and hard-won, none-the-less.

My dream, and I know my Dad’s and my brother Kelly’s dream is to start in Annapolis Royal, and Grande Pre, Nova Scotia, and make our way down to Connecticut, and eventually down to New Orleans, and trace our family history along the way. I think it would be educational and interesting and life changing! I would also love to travel to Scotland and Ireland and learn about my Mom’s side of the family too. Again, I wish as a kid I had taken advantage of the little time I had with my grandparents and listened to their stories more. The older we grow, the less time we have to learn about our family history, and unless we as parents make the efforts for our kids to meet their cousins, they will have no idea who they are. I know I even feel like I never had the chance to really get to know some of my cousins because we live so far away from them. Luckily, now there is Facebook, and when used for that purpose, it’s great! We get to communicate in ways never before possible. We get to know our families even though we are separated by distance.

Greg and I tried to make as many efforts as we could  when  our kids were young for our kids to visit with their cousins. It was easier for us than for my parents; 40 minutes drive versus 12 hours! We always enjoy getting together with both of our families and extended families, and we get to know them all over again. Which brings me full circle to the weddings this past summer. We were honored to be included in them, ( and LOVE being invited to any all family celebrations…hint hint!) and are so grateful for the opportunity to see people, especially when we know, every time we see them, it could be the last time, and in fact, it was the last time we got to see my Auntie Karen’s husband Scott. He died shortly after that of cancer, that God awful terrible disease. We were blessed to get to visit with him and with everyone before he died. We laughed, listened to stories, visited, danced, got shown up by my 75-year-old Uncle Mike on the dance floor ( we left at 1 am and he was still going at 2 I hear!) We love a good party, ( in case you hadn’t known that,) and I know Scott was very ill, but also know he had a very good time.

• Picture 1: Family Roots I made this sign for my Mom for Christmas one year
• Picture 2: my Dad and some of his siblings at my cousin Natasha’s open house the day after her wedding
• Picture 3: my Mom and some of her siblings at my Auntie Fran and Uncle Glen’s 50th anniversary in Mankota
• Picture 4: the house in which  I lived in Kincaid, Sask when I was really little
• Picture 5: The Canadian Club museum and store in Windsor, Ont. OH MY GOODNESS is it every gorgeous inside!! and the history in Windsor! Wow!

The history that is a part of the weddings, the funerals, the family reunions is for me, some of the best parts of these gatherings. Getting to say “I love you” to people matters to me. My family and friends have shaped me into who I am today, and given me the courage and strength I need to move forward.  When we know where we’ve been, and who we are a part of, it helps us to know where we are going. It gives me a sense of belonging that I feel lucky to have. I have many friends who are adopted, and some of them have tried to find their birth families, but others haven’t and don’t care to, but for me, it is truly important to know who I am and where I come from. It gives me a sense of pride and hope… hope that I can be as strong and adventurous and that I can face the challenges that come…. just like all of my ancestors did.