Anne Elliott's photos with the keyword: sadness

I would imagine (and hope) that many, many people will be stopping today to remember the horrific events of 11th September 2001. So many mental images that will never, ever leave our minds and hearts. People from so many different countries, not just the US. So many stories of loss and heartbreak - and so many stories of bravery and heroic actions. Remembering .... all those who lost their lives on that fateful day: all those who lost loved ones and close friends or fellow workers; all those who rushed in to "do their job" or "to help others" in any way they could. Remembering .... all those who were severely injured on that fateful day and who have bravely suffered every day since then; all those Firemen, Emergency Medical people, Police - men and women, who have suffered and continue to suffer emotionally and physically, including illnesses caused by being exposed to harmful chemicals. The list goes on and on. Remembering ... and praying that we never see another day like September 11th, 2001. Reposting from 11 September 2015.

This morning, I am posting just this one photo. It's hard to believe that it has already been three years since my daughter passed away. Delicate Forget-me-nots were her favourite flower - my mother and my brother both loved them, too. They say that "Time will heal" - I would say that "ease" is a more accurate word to use, rather than "heal". I don't think one can ever "heal" from a great loss, especially the loss of a child, no matter the age. I miss her so much, but I take great comfort in knowing that she is no longer suffering in pain and facing difficult challenges each and every day. The other reason for posting just this photo today is that, instead of choosing and editing photos yesterday evening, ready for today, I spent more than three hours on the phone and online, trying to sort out a credit card problem. I discovered that two suspicious transactions (not made by me) had caused my card to be shut down - would have been nice if the Bank had let me know they had done this (a few days before Christmas). I now have to wait 7-10 days for a new one to arrive. This morning, 3 January 2018, it is bright and sunny here, with a temperature of -9C (windchill -11C), and it is supposed to warm up to 5C this afternoon. Yes, that is PLUS 5C!

Today, 3 January 2016, I am doing something that usually I never do – post photos of my kids (at any age). It’s something that I feel I just need to do. Today is the first anniversary of the death of my older daughter and I am posting this mosaic of photos of her with her brother (older) and sister (younger). I created this and printed it out to give to several of her special friends when I saw them at the Celebration of Life service that was held for her, and others to be sent. The first 9 photos were taken when we lived near Muscat in Oman, Middle East, for six years, and the rest were taken in Calgary (not my home in the last photo). I don’t really want to add any details here, but if anyone should want to read more, the link below gives more detail. flic.kr/p/qD8TEb I am so tired out from all the Christmas Bird Counts I’ve been doing since mid-December, so short of sleep, and can’t think of what to write here, so I will let the photos say what they wish to say. Also, I have to leave home just before 7:00 am this morning, for the seventh and last Christmas Bird Count that I take part in. I think you’ll agree that Fiona had plenty of smiles to share : )

Early yesterday evening, 3 January 2015, we watched our oldest daughter finally give up her strong fight against so many medical issues and struggles. Heavy bleeding into her chest cavity that would not stop and three cardiac arrests, have given us all a roller-coaster of a ride the last two days. She has had to fight all her life, since the age of 11, dealing with each new problem with such strength. She had made it very clear to us at various times in more recent times that she would never want prolonged “heroic measures” performed if she was ever in that position. The last thing she wanted was to live the end of her life, be it weeks, months or even years, in a state where she had to rely on others to do every single thing for her, with absolutely no quality of life at all. So, after many detailed discussions with all her doctors, surgeons and specialists, nurses and a social worker, we all agreed that we must let Fiona die the way she wished, peacefully, in no pain and with dignity. Having said that, I have to add that the whole staff in the Intensive Care Unit at Foothills Hospital worked so hard to turn things around for her, but there were just too many health problems that, understandably, got in the way. The staff could not have been any more caring and thoughtful. Our heart-felt thanks to them. We, her family, thought and dreaded that this day would eventually come. How Fiona will be missed! She inspired so many people with her amazing persistence to “keep going” despite the endless difficulties in her life. Though she could feel “down” at times, she had a good sense of humour. Her heart was as big as the world – she always wanted to help people in any way that she was able, especially children, from a young girl in Africa to enjoying filling a backpack with school supplies for a school child in our own city. We knew, too, with complete certainty, that she would wish to donate any part of her body that might help someone else. Unfortunately, this was not possible due to the possibility (and uncertainty) that she also had rheumatoid arthritis. She has also always agreed, along the journey of her life, that when asked if she would be willing to let doctors and specialists share her information about the genetic disease she lived with, her answer was always a very willing "Yes". She has kept a careful record of each step along the way for years, and we know that this would include valuable information for the medical people, that could help others. Willing and thoughtful to the very end.

I made this poster a couple of days ago, hoping that there might be no need to use it. However, the breaking news today is that the remains found recently in Florida ARE those of little two-year-old (almost three) Caylee Marie Anthony. I have followed this huge case closely for the last few months and it has caught the attention and emotions of so many people. I won't go into how I fail to understand how any mother (assuming she is found guilty at trial) could ever do this to another human being, especially her own beautiful little daughter. I will simply say "It's a sad, sad day today."

I just couldn't get to sleep last night and ended up getting up around 4:00 a.m. and turning on my computer. I was feeling very worried about my brother in Birmingham, England, as no one had received a Christmas card from him or an e-mail for about a month. My oldest daughter hadn't been able to contact him by phone over Christmas, either. So, I decided to e-mail two wonderful, long-time girlfiends who live in Birmingham, to see if they had heard from John, which they hadn't. I went back to bed, sure I wouldn't fall asleep, which I didn't. About 7:30 a.m., I had a dreaded phone call, from a very kind Policewoman in Birmingham, letting me know that my brother (aged 61) had died, at home. He lived alone. She had not been given any details yet, so I have to wait to hear more. I don't know who called the Police, but I am thankful that they did. The Policewoman didn't know when John had died (from Angina, I suspect), but I think it may have been just after his last e-mail to me, on November 26th. John led such a healthy life-style, eating very healthily and enjoying his walks, but genes sometimes just win! I have no idea how I will deal with all this - that is one problem when family members live across the world from each other. I haven't flown anywhere since 1978 and haven't been anywhere in all that time, so, at the moment, this feels like one unbearable nightmare to me. John was my only sibling and neither of my parents is alive. Also, my own health is at its lowest in many years, so the awful possibility of having to travel fills me with dread. As with everything, though, one seems to eventually get through these very tough times. I will probably keep posting on Flickr, as this always feels a comforting place to be, and it will perhaps take my mind off everything else for a little bit at a time. Please bear with me if I don't do as much commenting as I would like.

I don't know if the tears are actually part of this little angel ornament or whether they are caused by rain. Very fitting, though, as this dear little angel was part of a roadside memorial "shrine" for a 22-year-old young man. He had been found shot to death in his SUV in 2008, along a gravel backroad just outside residential area of Calgary. I found it very moving. We passed this tribute to him when we were on a Mountain Bluebird route recently. www.calgaryherald.com/news/Police+tips+2008+killing+fine+...

I was unbelievably saddened this morning when I read on friend Art's (LeapFrog!) photostream that Phoenix, the young Bald Eagle on Hornby Island (off the east coast of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada), had died, at 76 days old. So many people have been watching this amazing story unfold over the last few months, thanks to the webcam that Doug and Sheila Carrick have so kindly and generously provided, not just this year, but for some time. This pair of Eagles have been observed laying eggs in this nest since 1990, so they are at least 25 years old. Phoenix was almost ready in the coming week to make her very first "flight" to a nearby branch, but instead, she will now be flying "over the Rainbow Bridge", in endless skies and sunlight. A handful of years, and she will have become a beautiful adult like the one in my image, taken at the Calgary Zoo. For those of you who find yourself becoming very attached to a wild creature, you will understand just how close that bond can become. I know I will never look at a majestic Bald Eagle in the same way again. Watching daily as this tiny "ball of fluff with the big feet" grew and grew to almost the size of her parents, the care with which the adults fed and looked after their little one was heart-warming and impressive. I have found myself sometimes thinking, as I watched the webcam, that if only every single human child could receive such caring, the world would be a much better, happier place! This family of Bald Eagles had (and will continue to have) so much to teach us, including that Nature can be sad, too - but Nature usually does such a good job of balancing its own without human interference. My heart goes out to Mom and Dad Eagle and to Doug and Sheila, who have enabled us to witness (yet again) both the miracles and sadness of Nature. Thanks also to all the followers who have kept us all up-to-date on the Hornby Island website forum - you must all be sharing the same deep sadness today. A few moments ago, we saw an experienced tree climber (Dan Hamilton), who had been specially called in as fast as possible, reach the nest and bring Phoenix down so that a necropsy can be performed and important information can be shared. R.I.P., young Phoenix. Sorry, I've ended up swamping you with my photos, today ...