On March 3, my stepfather, Yoshi, passed away. I spoke at the service and this is what I said that day:

Yoshi, Yoshi, Yoshi….
Your death has been a great shock and has left us all in a state of wonder…

.. is this actually happening?
.. are we really here?
.. why?

We still had so much to do together…
we wanted another conversation,
another game at the golf course,
another round of drinks at Clancy’s.

Yoshi, Yoshi, Yoshi…

I’ve known Yosh for 27 years, which is most of my life. When I was a young girl Mom and I were on our own for a while. Then Yosh came along and he changed our lives – for that I will always be grateful. You see Yoshi helped make one of my dreams come true. When I was a little girl I always asked Mom for a little brother or sister. You can imagine what that must have been like for her – a single mother of an only child and all I wanted was a sibling. Six years after Mom & Yosh met at Frank’s wedding, Jeff came into our lives and one of my childhood dreams came true – I had a little brother.

Jeff – I see so much of Yoshi in you,
in the way you smile,
the way you hold your camera,
in the way you two would critique each others’ golf swings…
You are your father’s son. How lucky are we that we get to look at you and be reminded of Yoshi – and he was such a good man.

Always generous with his time, he was so helpful and would do anything for anyone, all you had to do was ask and he would
sharpen your scissors,
unclog your drain or
do your taxes.
Whatever you needed he was there to help out.

The morning he was rushed to the hospital was also the morning my husband, Mark, and I were scheduled to move into our new house. As the paramedics were preparing Yosh to go to the hospital he said, “I can’t go, I’m supposed to help Melanie move today.”
And that was Yosh – always thinking of everyone else.

He was so caring and thoughtful and when I look at the faces in this room today I see all of the love and kindness he projected into this world being reflected back to him. His unique charm and one of a kind personality drew us all toward him.

Yosh had a lot of skills and talents, most of which he’d gladly tell you about – not to say that he was arrogant or conceited – no – he was just very confident in his abilities. In Yosh’s mind he was
a pro golfer,
a semi-professional photographer,
a successful fisherman,
a well seasoned traveler,
a man of style and class with great taste in music – he could have been a member of the Brat Pack in Las Vegas.

And if Yosh had a past life before this one, then he would have been a Samurai.

He was such a proud Japanese man and loved to share his heritage with all of us. Yoshi and his mother taught me how to make Origami and now that I make pottery for a living I’m often told my work looks like it has a Japanese influence, of course it does – that’s Yoshi.

He was the eldest child and a son, a position that brought a great deal of tradition and duty with it – duties he didn’t hesitate to carry through. He had a very deep love and respect for his parents and his sister Yoko and the loyalty he felt towards them never wavered but only strengthened over time.

Yosh was a unique man, I don’t think you’d be able to find another like him. His charisma and sense of humour won him many friends all over the world.

I will miss hearing that infectious laugh – I think we all will.

But what I want you to know is that his wit carried him through into his final hours here on this Earth. I know this because one of the nurse in the ICU said to me, “He’s got a great sense of humour.” I told her she was right and that he’d also want her to know that he was a great golfer as well.

Yosh forged his own path through this world and he lived life to the absolute fullest. When we were thinking of a verse or collection of words to describe Yosh there was only one thing that came to mind, the lyrics to one of his most favourite songs by one of his most favourite singers – the song My Way by Frank Sinatra. Whenever he played this song he made a point if telling me it was his favourite, then he would sing along with Frank word for word. And the song describes Yosh perfectly –

And now, the end is here
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I’ll say it clear
I’ll state my case, of which I’m ceratin
I’ve lived a life that’s full
I traveled each and ev’ry highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way.

Yosh – you indeed do it your way and though 27 years with you was not nearly enough I am ever so grateful for the time we had together.

Thank you for changing our lives.

Twenty-Eleven was the year that went up to Eleven.
It feels like everything got turned up just past the maximum.

When I look back on the year I don’t think of it in terms of months or weeks, I see it in Seasons.

Winter

Turned up to 8, sometimes 9.

After my big debut at the 2010 Vancouver One Of A Kind Show I was busy until the end of January with orders and organizing a full teaching schedule. I also added three new colours of Dots! and began experimenting with some new shapes on the wheel.

Mark and I also decided to start renovating our kitchen, ourselves.

I applied for a bunch of shows and got into them all. I worked away in the studio making my stock for the Spring Show Season.

It was a very wet Winter in Vancouver.

Spring

Turned up to 9, working it’s way toward 10

At the end of March I started doing Shows every 2-3 weeks until the end of June. I did Portobello West three times, Make It!, Got Craft?, and I was also at the Robson Square Artisan Market for three weeks. I got my table/booth set up down to a science.

I also got to meet a whole bunch of talented, creative, friendly artists at the Shows, I made a lot of great friends, I felt blessed.

Shows took up my most of my weekends, my weekdays were spent making more pots for the Shows and two to three nights a week I was teaching. While in the studio I had come up with a newish line of pots, more of an expansion of The Wobbly Shotglassees but I was having trouble figuring out where this newish line was going.

We still worked away on the kitchen. Our progress was slightly hindered by Mark’s troubles with his feet. He just couldn’t work all day running around the building and then spend the evenings and weekends on his feet in our kitchen. But it was coming together and starting to look quite fantastic.

One evening in April something struck and we started planning a big, big change. Mark said to me, “How about we take our lives on an adventure and move to Ontario?”

I remember it was still raining.

I finished up my Show schedule and finished teaching my classes. We went to Ontario at the end of June to scope things out and ride roller coasters.

Summer

Turned up to 11

We came back from Ontario in early July and it was still raining in Vancouver. We had decided to do it, to take our lives on that adventure. Once we made the decision our focus was to finish the kitchen – quick. We started telling some people about our plans, but not everyone. Mark was the Live In Caretaker for our building and telling our neighbours that we were moving also meant Mark having to give his notice. Two big life changes in one decision.

We didn’t know how long the kitchen was going to take to complete, we didn’t know how long it would take to sell the place so Mark didn’t know when his last day of work would be. Oh the domino effect. So we were hush hush about it for a bit. And it’s really hard to keep something that big all to yourself.

Then near the end of July my Uncle Bill passed away and I made my way across the country to be with my family.

While I was in Newfoundland Mark continued to work on the kitchen and a week after I got back we were ready to call a real estate agent. Mark let the Strata know what our plans were and gave his notice, finally we could tell everyone what we were planning.

About 10 days after that the apartment was sold.

That was around the time the rain stopped in Vancouver and the sun came out for a while. I put my wheel on the balcony for one last throwing hurrah outside in the Vancouver Sunshine. While listening to Bjork I made the rest of my stock for the Vancouver OOAK Show* & casseroles dishes for the One Of A Kind Thanksgiving Pop Up Shop.

Autumn

Still at 11

The month of September was nutty. We tried to visit with as many people as we possibly could as we packed up everything we owned and tied up the loose ends of our lives in Vancouver. The closing date for the sale of our home was at 5:00pm on Thursday, September 29. We drove away from the building in a U-Haul towing our 1984 Honda Civic behind us at 4:59pm, I’m not exaggerating, we literally had one minute to spare.

We took 11 days to drive across the country. It was awesome. We arrived on Thanksgiving Day right in the middle of a sun filled heat wave.

My new kiln arrived by the end of the week and I got to work on making my stock for the Toronto One Of A Kind Christmas Show.

I worked a lot. I made a lot of pottery while Mark helped me figure out my booth.

Both the Toronto and Vancouver One Of A Kind Shows were excellent. I loved them and have so many great memories and lessons learned from both shows – but I’ll write more about that another time.

Right after the Toronto show ended Mark and I went to Vancouver for two weeks in December and it rained. It was a whirlwind of Show prep, the Show, visiting with as many people as we possibly could – oh and I went to the spa, where things were turned back down to a normal level, like an 8 or 9.

Five days after we got back to Ontario it was Christmas.

And then Twenty Eleven was over.

Last year when I looked back on 2010 my memories were very clear and I could see an over arching theme to the year. 2011 was different, it feels like it was a bit more blurred, a bit more chaotic, more adventurous, more active, just more of everything.

So what’s next?

I’ve already gotten back to work in the studio making lots of pottery.
I have so many ideas for new pots to make and I’m excited.
Mark and I have to go exploring and find ourselves a new home.
We’ve planned to do some traveling this year, first up will be New York in February (and I’ve scored tickets to see Bjork in New York!).
And, as soon as I can I’ll be on the Leviathan.

*A lot of people have asked me about how I shipped my pots for the Vancouver OOAK Show, I didn’t. I made everything before we moved to Ontario and left it all in storage in my in-laws’ basement (Thank You Rob, MC & Evan!).

Uncle Bill gave me the nickname “Mud” when I was a little girl and I often wonder if he set the course of my life by doing that. He and I have always had a special bond, more like a father than an uncle, I wish everyone I know could know Uncle Bill.

It is with such a tremendous sadness that I type this next line: Uncle Bill passed away two weeks ago today. I feel like there must be something broken inside me because I still can’t believe he’s gone. I flew across this gigantic country, leaving Vancouver at 9:30 am on a Saturday and finally arriving in Marystown, Newfoundland by 1:30 in the afternoon on Sunday. It feels like it takes forever to get from one end of this country to another, especially when you just want to be there now.

I did at a reading at the funeral and after I said the first line I choked up, frozen in front of the congregation, reality suddenly hit me, “I’m speaking at Uncle Bill’s funeral.” The priest rushed over to me, put his arm around my shoulders and held my hand while I got through the rest of the reading. After wards I thanked him for his support, he told me he had just met Joan and Bill in April but something about them moved him.

And that is one of the nicest and most accurate things he could have said. Aunt Joan & Uncle Bill have this magical way about them that just makes you feel so welcome in their lives. They have a knack for making you feel so special & loved.

The world, life, everything just feels so different now, almost like this has all been a dream, or a terrible mistake but everything has changed anyway. Once again I am feeling so very far away from my family so I’m having a hard time. I got back to Vancouver on Monday and I’m trying to get back into the groove of things but it’s a bit of a struggle. I feel like I may never stop crying. (Though I’m sure Uncle Bill would think it would be “some foolish” for me to carry on like that.)

At some point I might share more about Uncle Bill but everything just feels so surreal and raw right now. Things will probably continue to be a little quiet around here while I catch up on making pottery and try to come to terms with having lost someone who meant so very much to me & my family.