Damian & Katerina = How To [vil-helm] #109

Hello our Vilhelmians! Alyce is 15 months old, got her first baby shoes, and is ready for a sleep study at SickKids. Damian reflects on Jamaican culture, funerals, and community, highlighting the importance of celebrating life and legacy, and finding guidance in others' stories as a father. The snow has melted, and our furry friends, Boujee and Dapper, are back to their outdoor adventures, sunbathing, and sniffing out food, with a dash of French bulldog charm and humor.

Tiny Tales from Alyce's Weekly Wonders

Hello, world! It’s me, Alyce! I’m 15 months old now, can you believe it? Time is flying by so fast! I’ve been living life to the fullest, exploring everything around me, and growing every single day. This week has been a big one, full of new discoveries, some medical adventures, and of course, lots of love!

First things first, guess what? I finally got my first baby shoes! I am officially stepping into the world in style! I’m already 88 cm tall (well, maybe even taller now—mom says we’ll find out for sure at my next check-up with the Complex Care Team on Wednesday!). I can’t wait to see what they say! But before that, there’s something big happening on Sunday night—my sleep study! It’s been a long time coming, and I’ve been waiting for it for almost a year! When I was a little baby, mom and dad kept asking for this study because of my oxygen needs and desaturations, but they told them I was too small to do it back then. So now, after being on the waitlist for what feels like forever, I’m finally going to SickKids in Toronto to do it. I’ll be sleeping with electrodes on—nope, not in my comfy bed, but in a hospital bed for a sleepover! It’s going to be a new experience, but I know I’ll be okay because I’ll have mom by my side.

Other than that, life is so good! I’m running all over the house and even climbing the stairs! Breakfast time is now extra fun—because it’s one bite for me, and one for Boujee, one for me, and one for Boujee. I love sharing with her, but Dapper is a little slower at getting the food when it falls on the floor. It’s okay though, I love him tons too!

This week, I had my cousin Noelle stay with us for Spring Break. It was so fun! We went to McDonald's for the very first time, and I got fries and a milkshake. Oh, and let me tell you, I thought two fries in my little mouth was a great idea... but then I was hanging upside down in mom’s arms trying to get rid of them! Eventually, I got the hang of it and totally won the milkshake battle, so it was a win in my book!

Well, that's all for now. Thanks for reading about my adventures. I’m off to explore the world again—there’s so much to do and so little time!

Love,
Alyce 💖

Celebrating Life, Honoring Death and Jamaican Traditions

Hello Vilhelmians!

As I reflect on my heritage, I am reminded of the complexities and richness of Jamaican culture. Growing up in Canada after moving from Jamaica at a young age, I've always navigated between two worlds. This unique perspective allows me to view my roots through a lens that highlights both the familiar and the foreign.

Take our names, for example. I only realized after my uncle had passed that I never actually knew his real name. Many Jamaicans have two names—their given name and a nickname, sometimes called a "yard name." It's not unusual to grow up knowing someone only by their yard name, never questioning it until a moment like this forces you to. It felt strange to ask, even in his passing, what the name on his birth certificate truly was. Yes, I too have a yard name, and so will my daughter, Alyce.

Then there are our funerals—another thing that sets us apart. We don't just mourn; we celebrate. Before the funeral, we have Nine-Night—a tradition of nine nights filled with gathering, storytelling, hymns, food, and laughter. This communal celebration honors the deceased and supports the bereaved family, turning grief into a joyful remembrance of the person's life.

The repass following the funeral continues this celebration, bringing people together to share meals and stories, further emphasizing the community's role in healing and honoring the deceased. Unlike many cultures where death is primarily mourned, Jamaican traditions focus on celebrating the life and legacy of the person, making the experience both a tribute and a testament to the resilience of the community.

Last week, I attended the funeral of a man I barely knew, an uncle who, despite our close proximity, had remained a distant figure. It's a strange feeling—to mourn someone distant yet feel the weight of their absence through the stories of those who loved him.

The funeral service itself was solemn, filled with prayers and eulogies. His children spoke of a man who adored his dogs, turning his backyard into a makeshift ice rink for neighborhood kids, and, despite his reluctance to help at times, always showed up in quiet, unwavering ways. The image of him, shovel in hand, clearing snow for the neighborhood children, lingered in my mind. Their memories painted a picture of a man both complex and deeply devoted—a reminder that a person's impact often outlives the depth of our personal connections with them.

After the funeral, the family attended the repass, a post-funeral reception that is unique to our culture. It was here that the true magic happened. As china clinked and conversations flowed, I watched my daughter Alyce meet relatives for the first time. She met her great-aunt and a host of cousins. Her tiny hand in the weathered palm of an elderly aunt and cousin was a poignant reminder of the invisible threads connecting generations—the ties that outlast time and distance.

This sense of community, so vital in our culture, feels increasingly absent in our modern, fast-paced 9-to-5 world.

Now let’s talk about the food! Let’s just say it was nice! The pungent scent of jerk chicken, oxtail, rice and peas hit the spot. I’m sure someone could have found something to complain about, but that’s just another part of our culture.

Rest in peace, Dougie. You were not perfect—none of us are—but at the end of the day, your legacy will live on in your kids and grandkids, in the laughter of his grandchildren and the steadfastness of his children—a testament to the enduring power of love and family. The past feels so vivid, like a memory frozen in time even as life moves forward—a snapshot of a moment that will never be recreated but will never be forgotten.

Reflecting on these moments brought me back to my own role as a father—the weight of shaping a life and creating countless memories yet to be made. Growing up without a father myself has often left me searching for blueprints or lessons in others' stories. Every tale about fatherhood becomes a guide—a small piece of wisdom to carry forward. I wondered, while looking at Alyce, what quiet moments or shared laughter would form the foundation of her memories.

Looking back on last week reminds me how much these moments shape us all. One day, I hope Alyce will look back on her childhood with stories about her old man—moments that stay with her long after I'm gone. I hope she remembers the sound of my laughter and the warmth of my hand—the love binding our family across generations.

Until next time Vilhelmians,

Damian aka Cory

Woof Woof! 🐾

Ah, les amis, we repeat... THE SNOW HAS MELTED! Cue the fanfare, and a whole lot of tail wagging! Yes, it's true. After what feels like a century of snow, ice, and cold paws, we can finally put our backyard adventures behind us. We’re back to the good stuff. Goodbye to the frozen turf, and
HELLO to concrete, which—let's be honest—is more our style.

Boujee is already back in action, sunbathing like it’s her raison d’être (her reason for being, for those of you who don’t speak fluent French bulldog). She’s got her perfect spot by the window, and no one, and I mean no one, can disturb her precious sunbeam. Of course, she’s keeping an extra eye on the street because you never know, there could be a squirrel. Or, you know, anything that moves.

And food? Oh, food is still the true passion of our lives. I was laying there, peacefully snoozing on my cozy bed, enjoying the quiet. Then… I hear it. A little plop. Was that… food? A piece of Alyce’s breakfast? I open one eye, then the other… but whoosh—Boujee is already over there, scarfing up three pieces before I’ve even had a chance to stretch. It’s a gift. Truly. I mean, I could have gotten up too, but, eh… it was Boujee’s moment.

Now, let’s talk about the really important part: outside walks. Ooh la la, how we missed them! The fresh air, the smells, the possibilities! I’ve got my nose working overtime, sniffing everything from that old tree stump to the… whatever that was on the sidewalk. It’s heaven. And don’t get me started on the discovery of new parks and corners where the wind smells like adventure and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of food that’s fallen from someone else’s snack.

Now, cough cough… here’s the thing. As much as I love the outdoors and the walks, I must confess something. I’ve got a bit of a breathing situation going on. Yes, yes, I know, I’m a French bulldog and breathing is part of the charm, but my little snorts aren’t quite cutting it. Mon dieu. I might have to get that checked out. But don’t worry—Boujee is doing magnifique on her walks. She’s got the stamina, the style, the grace… and the food radar that never fails.

But overall? It’s a win. We're back to being outside, exploring, sunbathing, and—let's not forget—snatching up the food that falls on the floor. Life is good, les amis. Life is good.

Dapper and Boujee sign.ing off, until our next snack or squirrel encounter!* 🐾