The Decade: Loss

The last decade of my life was punctuated with loss. In the span of four years, I lost both of my maternal grandparents, a pet that I cherished, and - the hardest, deepest - my beloved father who passed away months after being unexpectedly diagnosed with terminal cancer. Processing the finality of these events has not been easy and has left me with an emptiness that occasionally wanes but is always present. I try to work with it. I’ve tried to appease it by feeding it stimulation and adventure. I’ve tried to kill it with carbs and boys. I now just treat it as a part of me. Less a burden and more a facet of experience that can influence and direct my path forward towards the life I want to live.

You may never know the last time you get to spend with someone.

Cherish every moment.

Be generous with love.

This is the most important wisdom I gained over the past decade.

The Decade: The Climb

The most physically demanding thing I achieved over the past decade was climbing an actual mountain. At 3,776 metres, it wasn’t anywhere near the scale of, say, Everest (which is 8,848 metres) but for someone who’d rather eat doughnuts than hit the gym, this accomplishment was monumental. I did it for a very special reason - a demonstration of my deep love for my father and a promise to him on how I would fill my days with adventure in remembrance of his spirit.

I’m a person of my word.

To read more about climbing Mount Fuji, click here, here, here, here and here (or search the Japan tag for a travelogue on my other experiences in the land of the rising sun).

I made it! - the summit of Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

I made it! - the summit of Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

Climbing Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

Climbing Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

Climbing Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

Climbing Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

The terrain on the path heading up was quite rocky and not that easy to traverse at 3:00am on limited sleep (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

The terrain on the path heading up was quite rocky and not that easy to traverse at 3:00am on limited sleep (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

The path returning to the bottom was different terrain but equally as hard as reaching the summit. The volcanic ash made it slippery and hard to establish grip (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

The path returning to the bottom was different terrain but equally as hard as reaching the summit. The volcanic ash made it slippery and hard to establish grip (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

The Decade: The Amateur Chef

Growing up, my relationship with food was much different than it is today. Food’s primary purpose was fuel, a means to garner the energy that youth required. It was also pretty routine and safe. My homemaker mom had a few specialties that she seemed to rotate on a weekly basis. This included well-cooked pork chops with a pinch of black pepper, Prego-drenched spaghetti and, my favourite, chicken fingers and fries (being from Winnipeg, I’ve also eaten my weight in pirogies several times over). Food was not an indulgence in my childhood home. Meals were not made from scratch but rather selected for convenience. Up until a few years ago, this was my outlook as well.

The kitchen in my home is bigger than I’d ever had before. The large island just beckons to be put to use, although for a long time it was neglected to the role of storage space for paperwork and other random items. I would occasionally attempt baking something easy but nothing of intricacy. My desire to truly become a gastronomy student was instilled by my partner. One of our first dates was dinner at an Indian restaurant. He was excited to introduce me to biriyani, a rice dish heavy with spices and mixed with assorted meats. My experience with Indian food was minimal up until that point and I was admittedly concerned about the effect it would have on my limited-palate stomach. I approached it slowly, taking small spoonfuls … until I couldn’t stop. The flavour was so rich. It opened my eyes to a whole new world. Biriyani has also become my favourite food. I like it more than pizza - which is really testament to how delicious it is.

Now I take a great pleasure in not only eating but the entire process of cooking from researching new recipes to learning what umami is. When I travel, I am most excited about leisurely exploring the grocery stores and markets for spices and other ingredients not readily available at home. My creative flair is now being applied to cuisine as both hobby and art form. My waistline may be expanding but my overall health and enjoyment in life has never been better.

Cooking at an apartment in Paris (©2019, Deborah Clague).

Cooking at an apartment in Paris (©2019, Deborah Clague).

Bison kebab with homemade tzatziki (©Deborah Clague, 2017).

Bison kebab with homemade tzatziki (©Deborah Clague, 2017).

Tandoori chicken with biriyani (©2019, Deborah Clague).

Tandoori chicken with biriyani (©2019, Deborah Clague).

Lemon-garlic-rosemary chicken with black rice and vegetables (©2019, Deborah Clague).

Lemon-garlic-rosemary chicken with black rice and vegetables (©2019, Deborah Clague).

The Decade: Neighbours

This past decade, I became a property owner. After much research, budgeting and financial forecasting, I found an affordable place that was a blank canvas for the life I wanted to breathe into it. Besides equity, that was the most appealing aspect of home ownership; my home is an extension of the design work I do and its transformation from being a floor-to-ceiling throwback of the mid-80s dusty rose trend to “neo-gothic New York” (think noir with exposed brick) is truly something I am proud of.

I’d be lying though if I said I didn’t use to constantly monitor housing prices to see if I was taking a hit (or making a gain). I had no intention of actually selling … but instead sought the comfort that I hadn’t made the biggest financial mistake of my life. A mortgage is a huge burden to carry and at the end of the day, we all want to get ahead. Over time I realized though that money and the security it affords was only a part of what I needed in life.

The day I moved in, my new neighbour, an elderly woman who strongly resembles the Queen Mum, opened her door to peek out at the commotion in the hallway. With a smile and an impromptu hug, I was touched by how welcoming and kind she was. Her eyes were the bluest blue I’d ever seen and I felt a sense of warmth in her presence. In addition, she took an immediate attachment to my dog, Monty, which was a blessing as even though I reside in a pet-friendly building, there are a lot of people who don’t like pets (and will openly tell you so). Over the years, my neighbour and I have become incredibly close to the point where I consider her my adoptive grandmother. She is my family, if not by blood then by love.

I’ve also made other deep connections, including a close friend that I’ve taken on trips from Chicago to Dubai. And then there’s the person who moved in with me, someone who appreciates my eclectic taste in art and sought to make it even more unique - I now have an indoor garden with its own custom-crafted waterfall! This is priceless to me.

The friendships I’ve made and the experiences I’ve shared with my neighbours have so greatly enriched my life that no amount of money lost in a constantly fluctuating market could ever detract from what I’ve gained. These memories from 2010-2020 have firmly established my house as home.

My indoor garden, a work in progress (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

My indoor garden, a work in progress (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

The Decade: A New Best Friend

There’s excitement when moving to a city you’ve never visited before. It could be an opportune time to reinvent yourself. To form new hobbies and embark on relationships that are misguided but ultimately shamelessly fun. If I’m being honest though, I settled rather quickly into my comfortable ways again. I’m an introverted homebody and those just aren’t traits conducive to being the life of the party. And no one talks about it much, but forming adult bonds and friendships is a rather difficult thing to do. As you get older, most people have their social groups established. Life can get especially lonely when starting over from scratch.

Within two weeks of my move, I made a new best friend though. A little guy that has brought me such happiness and unconditional love that I can literally feel my heart swell with emotion when I think of him. The “guy” I’m talking about is my wee Monty, a mixed breed with the sweetest personality. He is twenty pounds of both teddy bear and sentry. Adopting a dog forced me to explore my new city and focus on something other than my own isolated milieu. One of my most cherished memories were the first three nights he spent adapting to life in my apartment.

Night one: I placed Monty in his kennel in the living room in order to get him accustomed to my absence. All night he cried. I broke resolve rather quickly and brought him into my bedroom.

Night two: I placed Monty’s pet bed on the floor next to my own with the hopes that he would easily drift into slumber knowing I was in the same room as him. This didn’t work either as he kept attempting to jump up onto my bed. He didn’t cry—and he didn’t bark— but the sound of this struggle broke my resolve.

Night three: Monty had established his place of sleeping on the bed with me, eventually taking over the dead-centre of the mattress so that I could barely move. I didn’t mind at all. Like I said, he’s my teddy bear. For all that his presence has enriched my life, he can live like a king.

The first glimpse I ever saw of Monty. This was the photo used in his adoption listing (2010).

The first glimpse I ever saw of Monty. This was the photo used in his adoption listing (2010).

The Decade: A New Home

As the decade nears its end, I wanted to vignette some of the moments that most touched my life:

It was February of 2010 and we were driving down the Trans-Canada Highway with as much of my stuff as could fit in the back of a Nissan. My father was behind the wheel, navigating the sheen of black ice while attempting to give me a pep talk that would last nearly the entire duration of my one-way trip. For I was leaving my hometown, my family and friends, and everything I knew up until that point to start a new life in a city I had never even visited before.

From 2004 to 2009, I worked from home operating a small creative consultancy business that partnered with marketing firms on a variety of projects big and small. In October of that final year, a downturn in the economy resulted in the loss of two of my biggest clients. Fraught with anxiety over my future in the field—not to mention the more tangible, immediate stress of how I would pay my bills—I made the decision to re-enter the job market. As I am wont to do, I also made the decision to make other sweeping changes in my life including applying for positions in different cities. The start of a new decade felt like a perfect opportunity to also start a new chapter in my life. And so it was written.

In January of 2010, I boarded a flight for an interview.

Within a few weeks, I got the job.

It happened incredibly quickly and while my initial ambitions achieved exactly what I had hoped, the palpable sense of loss I felt as the light pollution of Winnipeg faded further from view overwhelmed me. I cried so much we had to stop and stay overnight at The Twilight Motel in Moosomin, delaying arrival in my new home by a day. While some may have perceived it as cold, my father’s rational, direct way of supporting me helped open my eyes to the possibilities that laid ahead. At that time, he never openly cried. Even though I knew he would miss me (and worry about me), he only focused on what was best for my personal growth.

The past, predictable and safe, could always be resurrected if I made the choice. My childhood bedroom was available, even if the stuffed animals that once shared it with me no longer existed. I would just have to call.

The future though, open and exciting with so much potential, was what he encouraged.

Reflecting on the past decade and all the memories I’ve cultivated, I made the right choice.