Dear Matthew

Dear Matthew

This letter remains unseen by the driver whom I will never fully name. I don't believe that public shaming is the way forward.   

Since 2020 I have explored Restorative Justice more than once, but for today there are seemingly too many steps to go ahead.  

Restorative Justice to me means sitting across the table and reading this letter aloud. 

 For today, I continue to live with this, 'somewhere out in the world there is a young man who could be my son.  I've never met him, but he was the first to see Mark's dead body.'

What is justice??  How does one navigate betrayal by systems that don't do their part to make another accountable?  For example, when a Press Release contains more than one error and Statutes expire so that there is no record of negligence that resulted in the death of another? 

Once again, I release all involved.  That's how this dance goes.... 

January 18, 2019

 

Dear Matthew,

On Monday I received the Engineering report and reconstruction of the collision between you and my husband Mark.  On Tuesday January 15th, the 4^th anniversary of Mark’s death, I sat with a trauma counselor to debrief it.  Finally, Mark is honoured.  The truth has set me free.  

Today I set you free.  The space that you have occupied will now be taken up by love.  Mark’s love. 

Today I will no longer travel down the road of revenge. I will not continue to slowly die inside because of my desire for you to feel my pain.  The pain of shattered dreams, widowhood and, even greater, the pain of watching my son without his dad.  Having lost his own father at age 7, Mark set an intentional goal for his son to know him.  That is how he lived his life.  Invested in us. 

I have wrestled with, ‘what will it take’ to make my pain go away? How many tickets? Jail time? A scar on your soul that won’t heal? Today I realized that you can’t possibly feel our pain.  You didn’t have the privilege of being loved by or loving Mark. 

After Mark was killed, I found it hard to sit still.  Perhaps you saw me running through the neighbourhood in Tall Timbers.  While running by your cul-de-sac I sensed the Spirit of Love whom I know as God saying, ‘He is my son even if he doesn’t know it’.   I wrestled with this for a long time; I didn’t want you in the same group as me.  But it’s true.  We share this common thread of being human and trying to find our way through this thing called life.  God also gave me a tender heart towards you, knowing that you were a young man who could have been my son.

Today I release you into the hands of the Spirit of Truth, the Spirit of Love, whom I know as God.  I can’t imagine the pain that you’ve experienced.  Perhaps you’ve buried it. If that’s true, I hope you find help and healing and whatever you need to set yourself free. 

In the trauma unit, after I identified Mark’s body, I experienced what I could only call “God” using me to get a message to you.  If I recall correctly, I asked this message to be relayed, ‘we won’t blame you for the rest of your life. Mark wouldn’t want that’.  I experienced this as a message of forgiveness, of setting you free. More importantly, of setting myself free.  I have had to wrestle it out with God, especially since the RCMP seemed to magically erase any sense of negligence on your part.  Once again, I set you free despite how the events unfolded following the collision. In turn, I free myself to find my way through the brutal and beautiful in life.

I see today as a new beginning as we each walk forward.  I don’t like the saying that things happen for a reason.  I do see that unimaginable suffering can be used to shape us, if we allow it.  We get to choose if we will live better or bitter.  Today I walk away from bitterness and choose life. 

Lastly, I respect that your spiritual views might be very different than mine, but I leave you with one thought…what if it’s true?  That you have a Creator, a Father who says, without shame, “This is my son Matthew, whom I love.”  I truly hope that you get to experience this kind of love and the mature kind of love that comes from navigating seasons of life with a partner by your side.  Mark and I shared over 30 years together.

May the same courage that it took to stay at the scene help you find your way to wholeness and healing. 

Sincerely,

 Lynda Janson

Widow of N. Mark Janson, “Mark”.  Husband, Father, Son, Brother, Friend.  

Delta Fire Captain #130

 

 A Tribute to Mark, January 28, 2015

Good Morning, 

Thank you for coming.  Don’t ever doubt the power of your presence, a prayer, a kind word, a ‘thinking of you’, a bouquet of flowers, a container of soup, or a meal.  Your love and kindness plus my faith in Jesus will carry Brady and me through.

Today, I hope that in the midst of deep sorrow, we will laugh.  Lots.  Mark was the funniest guy I knew (though I am discovering through this process that Brady is a close second). 

I’d like to share with you the Mark I knew – funny, supportive, respectful, loving, and kind.

·         Mark was an optimist…   A glass half-full kind of guy. He supported me numerous times through challenging situations by helping me break them down into manageable chunks and see the positive.  I’ll rely on this wisdom in the days ahead.

·         Mark made me laugh.  When I’d say, “I know that I’m not the easiest person to live with” Mark would reply, “No kidding.”

·         The first time I pointed out that Mark was getting a few grey hairs, he was quick to say, “You try living with you and see if you don’t get a few grey hairs”

·         I’d come home from shopping, excited about the deal I found -  “Mark, look!  I got this top for $14.99!  Regular price, $46!

Mark would point to his shirt, “How much is Mark’s shirt?  Free.”   Yes, he loved his Fire Department issued clothing; partly worn navy blue t-shirts became part of his everyday wardrobe at home. 

·         Mark sacrificed for his family.  When I was sick, Mark would sleep on the couch and when he was sick, he would sleep on the couch.  “Don’t worry about poor Mark,” he’d say.

On a serious note, Brady and I cannot count the number of shift changes Mark did so that he could be at the race track.  His goal as a father, having lost his dad when he was 7, was that Brady would know him.  To many of you in this room, we pause to say, “Thank you”, for trading with Mark; your sacrifice contributed to memories for our family.

 

·         Mark made things happen… ‘just get ‘er done’.  I often had a sense that Mark was quietly scheming and secretly searching for a new vehicle or garage project…  

 

One morning he came home from a night shift and said we needed to talk.  The look on his face made me think that he had some difficult news to share.  He announced that he’d bought a Harley and that it was being delivered that afternoon.  Can you say, “Marriage Counselling?”

Mark had some definite dislikes, likes, and loves.

·         Some of Mark’s top dislikes were dress shoes, driving in Vancouver & seafood.  When I reminded him that he ate tuna sandwiches and always ordered Mushrooms Neptune at The Keg, he’d say, “That’s different.” 

Mark liked

·         Emergen C. One sneeze by me, which I’d tell him was likely allergy related, sent him off to mix up a package of Emergen C.  “I can’t be sick” he’s say.  Regarding his germophobe tendencies, I’d remind him that he had an immune system.  “You can’t be too careful,” he’d reply.

Mark loved

·         Cats – NOT!  Our most demanding cat was Smudge.  Whenever I was away overnight, I would text him in the morning, “How was your night?”  “How’s Smudge?”  He’d reply, “Up since 4 am with PITA”.  Though he called her a pain in the *, he diligently followed her feeding and medication schedule. 

·         All things Shelby Mustang, Racing, BC Lions and Canucks.

·         Backyard burning.  If I asked him to put a pizza box in recycling, I’d be annoyed when I saw it sitting inside the kitchen door.  It took me a while to discover that he was burning them out back.  I told him more than once that I was going to report him for burning out of season.

·         Going to work. Consistently.

·         Being “on-call” for his family… He was always a phone call or text away for Brady and me, willing to help with a listening ear or wise advice.

·         The garage.  I often wondered if Mark got through the hard stuff on the job by creating in the garage.  Mark was talented at metal and body work, and painting.  I was always in awe of his natural abilities.

·         Mark loved Brady, Reo, and me.

There are too many things to mention that I will miss. Simple things like a shared Tim Horton’s coffee, trips to our favourite coffee shops for tea and dessert, walks in Fort Langley, Chicago Fire, The Voice, Shark Tank and Maui.

Mark, your love is the greatest gift of all.   I am so thankful for the gift of you and the memories that will carry me through my lifetime.

My only hope of getting through this is my belief that we’ll meet again when my time on earth is through.  In the meantime, have fun with the cat!

Love Remains

John Fogerty concert at the Hollywood Bowl, 2009

Love Remains

What is true today, 10 years since I last physically saw Mark?

I’m still getting used to this broken heart thing.  In some moments, as the lyrics of this song say, this is still true. 

And, written on my soul is the fact that Love remains.

The “And” journey.  The brutal and the beautiful.

I’m ready for this new year, a new beginning. It feels like a restart of the plans I had for going forward in 2020.  Detours happen. 

For 2025, I’ve chosen the word, Exploring.  The chapter title is Accompanied by Love.  The Love of God and, the love of Mark. 

What chapter are you writing today?

7 years since I last saw Mark...

This photo is saved as "Mark Fav".  I never tire of it. 

7 years ago Mark and I were living ordinary days.  I worked as a Special Education Teacher's Assistant. About 4 pm I finished booking a trip to Palm Dessert for Spring Break.  That trip together would never be.  Mark would have worked nights on January 11, leaving him with January 12, 13, 14, & 15 off.  Back to day shift on Friday, January 16^th, 2015.  Today when I purchased house insurance I was reminded that this was the last 'job' that Mark did to protect us, his family. 

What is it like having lived 7 years without my guy by my side?  I am still figuring out how to navigate, "what's next?"  Still standing.  I have moved, walked alongside my dad’s end of life, Mark's mom’s end of life, Reo’s end of life, and am walking through a planned global event which has divided families, friends, and neighbours.  Like Mark's death, the truth is yet to be revealed globally.  But it's slowly dripping out. 

I spent 5 1/2 years being an advocate for truth.  It was worth every hour. February 24, 2020 a new Press Release was put forth by Langley RCMP with an apology for "false allegations".  My soul could finally rest in knowing the this piece of truth about Mark's ending was revealed. 

The passage of time is difficult to describe.  There is a large gap with no new memories. And, over 30 years of memories past to treasure. 

Today I’m restless.  I have no idea what the next chapter will look like, but I’m ready for what’s next.  I’ve outgrown my walking-out-widowhood home.  One of my dreams is land. With animals. Small ones.  I loved being married… with all the challenges of doing life with another, I’d do it again.  With the right person. Shaping comes, sharp edges are softened, when closely navigating life with another.

Impermanence

                   A dinner plate sized hibiscus flower at our last home; 2016. Truly reMarkable!

Is Death Life on Your Mind? Death and Life. Inseparable. It seems that talking about one always leads me to the other.

On her podcast, Sugar Calling, Cheryl Strayed interviewed Pico Iyer from his home in Japan.  Part of their conversation was about impermanence and lessons from the cherry blossom trees.  As Pico says, “Every life ends in death.  Every meeting ends in a separation.  But that’s not a reason to grieve, it’s actually a reason to find our beauty and joy right now.” 

Unlike Pico Iyer, I believe that grieving is necessary.  Like Pico, I believe in seeking beauty and joy.  I think of this as a braided cord - joy and sorrow. Though I, like you, deal with it every day on some level, impermanence is still something I fight.   Only a month ago, I anticipated buds to bloom on a star magnolia that I see from my dining bench.  Today, white petals lie on dark dirt. Part of me wants the beauty of full bloom to stand still.  Forever. 

In this daily-changing world, the question most on my mind is, will I see my loved ones again on planet earth? What I most want right now is to be with my people. Since I live on an Island, I’m not able to walk down the street or drive a few blocks and have a social-distancing check in. I know I’m not alone in this life experience of distance and yearning.

One of my favourite children’s books is called, Lifetimes by Bryan Mellonie and Robert Ingpen.  There is an underlying simplicity. Just the facts.  We each have a lifetime. Leaves.  Bugs. Fish. People. Beginnings and endings with living in between. This speaks quietly to my soul.

Now add feelings. Shattered hearts.  Despair. Add anticipation. Add questions.  Why’s. Add the wondering about the order of things. Expectations. Add mystery. This life-death thing is complicated for the human body, mind, and spirit.

Prior to Mark’s death, the death that made life feel uncertain, unsafe in the world, was when our 3-year-old neighbour drowned. Our son was about 2 ½.  One day they were toddlers peering through the gaps between the fence boards. Then, in the blink of an eye she was no longer there.

This death led me to Hospice training, volunteering with children who had experienced the death of a loved one, and eventually to working as coordinator of the children’s program at our local hospice.  My soul felt at home while sitting on the floor or around a table and listening to children share feelings and stories and wonder.  About life. About death.

Now back to this virus thing.  What if I die from a virus? Or one of my family? Shouldn’t having a background in nursing with extra training in critical care, having been immersed in death-life thinking through hospice work, and learning about building my immune system through naturopathic medicine keep me safe? Shouldn't I be able to keep my family from death? Shouldn't these life experiences guarantee me a lifetime of at least 85 years? Get me at least to 60? Life has taught me that the answer is, ‘no’. Knowledge can be helpful in navigating, but it's no guarantee of life. 

As I write, part of me wants to fight for control. I want to stop death from happening.  Just for today.  To one more family.  One more person.  Me.  Because even though I believe I’ll be reunited with my beloveds who’ve gone before me, I’m not ready to say goodbye to those who are living.  And even though I’m tentative to dream, I want more time for dreams to come true. At least one more trip to Hawaii with my son. Or a coffee together. Time. I want time and togetherness with my people.

So how do I come back to focusing on life?  Through my eyes, this requires that I surrender my fear and what I perceive as an untimely death. I hold on to my faith.  My belief in life after life.  Next, I look to the garden and the Creator behind all things.  Preparing to bloom is a Japanese Snowbell tree whose buds are profuse.  I can hardly wait until they come into full blossom.  I will still want to control how long they stay in fullness, however, by the end of May, once again, I will learn about impermanence. And life.

What has life taught you about life? 

Shaped by Trauma

“You can do the impossible because you have been through the unthinkable.”

Christina Rasmussen

Yes, I can do the impossible, but today I don’t want to.  I am tired. I am fighting this shelter in place thing.  I miss my son.  I miss my mom, my sister, my brother, my nieces and nephews. I miss Mark’s mom.   Nothing since Mark’s death has taken me out. I have moved, walked through my dad’s end of life, become an empty-nester, said goodbye to Reo, and am preparing to say goodbye to Mark’s mom.  But this. I am becoming aware that I need to take care of the frustration, the silent rage – the kind that can destroy one’s heart and cause one to lose hope.  

At the root of my anger is that same sense I had when pieces of Mark’s death investigation didn’t add up.  “I call bullsh*t.” (Yes, I said this.  More than once. I must have learned it from Erin B).  What is really going on behind the scenes?  Why are more doctors and scientists questioning what is being asked of us?

On this brutal and beautiful journey, today I come back to some sense of harmony by what I learned in the months and years following Mark’s death.

Truth. Truth has a way of rising to the surface. A word here, a document there. Clues, like breadcrumbs, along the path.

Surrendering. A big part of my spiritual journey has been learning to surrender to what I couldn’t control.  To what I can’t control.  I’m still learning that.  I’m learning to ask, as Suzanne Stabile says, “what’s mine to do?”  I’ve noticed that I’ve never been asked to be in charge of the world! 

Believing. I do believe in the Spirit of Love and Truth whom I know as God.  I hold on to the belief that Love wins. Truth wins. I’ve seen it over and over.  It’s what sustains me. 

How does this explain suffering? Mark’s traumatic death? Today’s uncertainty?  I’m not a scholar, but here’s what I know from the last 5 plus years. Suffering is a guarantee while I'm on planet earth. I have a choice to become bitter or better.  This Spirit of Love and Truth shapes me if I allow myself to be shaped.  To become more empathetic, to find my voice and speak truth, to ask questions, to seek justice, to be an advocate for another. I see this Spirit of Love and Truth in every encouraging word, every act of kindness, every, ‘how are you?’.  I see it in every act of courage, in the question-askers, in the seekers of truth.  I see it in each of you. Sparks of light in the darkness.

When I doubt, or slide into dark places, I come back to asking, “What if it’s true?”  That there is a Spirit of Love and Truth that hasn’t missed a detail.  This is what I relied on throughout Mark’s death investigation.  Immediate answers didn’t come, but eventually the truth surfaced.  Every detail came to light. In the meantime, I will hold on to, “this, too, shall pass” and wonder how the world and each of us will be shaped.   

How are you managing today? What is sustaining you?

Nicknames; part of me is still Miss Lynda

2012. Mark and I in Maui, celebrating our 26th wedding anniversary early.  Still one of my favourite pictures of us.

This piece is from a Memoir Writing class that I participated in last fall, 2019.

Thankfully, the nickname, “The Little Woman” became “Miss Lynda” at some point.  It was a name that, in my presence, my late husband Mark used most.   Miss Lynda had a tenderness to it with an underlying respect.  After his death, I discovered that amongst his close friends he used, “Leader of the Opposition”.  Though this makes me laugh out loud, the one that sustains me is, “Erin.”

As I passionately reacted, Mark might say ranted, about an injustice in the world, he would respond with, “Yes, Erin”. Being named after Erin Brockovich, the main character in the 2000 movie of the same name, is the highest honour. 

Though I look nothing like her and dress on the conservative end of the spectrum, we share some common attributes.  For example, we are each motivated to seek justice.  While Erin’s focus is on the environment, mine is on restorative justice.

In the movie, based on Erin’s real-life experience, she discovers that when large corporations fail to do the right thing, humans can be impacted in devastating ways.  Critical illness and death are the result of reckless actions.

 In my real-life movie, I discover that when large corporations fail to do the right thing, layers can be added to the trauma that occurs following the unexpected death of loved one.  Added emotional pain is the result of the negligent use of words in a Press Release*.

Erin is confident. She trusts her instincts.  I am less confident but followed my intuition which led to discovery of truth. My instincts proved to be correct.  “This shouldn’t happen to another family” urges me forward. I see this same unspoken motivation in Erin. A deep internal drive that leads to perseverance while seeking truth.

Erin has the courage to use her voice; she continues to advocate even today. A framed card in the location where I write, reminds me to ‘find my voice’ and ‘speak truth into hard spots’.  This, I am still learning.

Erin’s research results mainly in monetary compensation for families impacted by a large corporation. My research results in truth.  Truth is my compensation.

Though it is approaching five years since I last heard Mark call me, “Erin,” it is written on my soul. I follow the real Erin Brockovich on Facebook, and when I need encouragement to keep going, I watch media clips.  Who knew that Mark’s perception and one nickname would give me the confidence and doggedness to pursue truth about the investigation of his death.  “Erin” has shaped me and is still impacting me today. 

Who has positively contributed to helping you become?

(*a Press Release correcting Mark's location was posted to the Langley RCMP Newsroom on February 24, 2020)