Category — family

The Vancouver Uncover the Cure walk is coming at a great time for me – so I’m putting on my nicest underclothes and walking 5K in beautiful Vancouver, BC to help raise awareness and money for those less supported below the belt cancers.

Many of my family members have struggled with (and beaten) colon cancer, ovarian cancer and other below the belt issues – help me reach (and exceed!) my $300 goal by going to my personal page and making an online donation.

A $10 donation (super easy and totally safe) will get you a tax receipt – and I promise there will be photos of me in my fancy pants on the streets of Vancouver.

If you have suggestions for costumes – tell me in the comments! It has to be tasteful and cover all my naughty bits (there will be children there after all) but I’d love to hear the creative things you come up with!

My Grandad passed away on May 4th.

I still have no idea what to write.

What stories can I tell about George Clements that will convey a clear and accurate picture of him?

There are the obvious things: he was an incredibly talented stone mason, he had a wonderfully dry sense of humour, he could be quite a stubborn smarty pants, he was generous, kind, handsome, a great whistler and stone skipper, built the best fires ever and grilled a mean hamburger.

He also taught me that no one is going to just let me win, I’d have to earn it (playing Battleship with Grandad was a sure-fire way to prove that however clever you thought you were – he’s far more clever). I learned that listening is a lot more useful than talking, paying good money for good things is smarter than paying a little money for cheap garbage and that honour and manners still matter.

But none of these things really convey the whole picture either.

Maybe it’s enough that I have the good fortune to be his granddaughter. You don’t get to choose your family, but I would have chosen him had I not been born to the right family.

I’m looking at a great picture of Grandad on the beach: he is looking up, eyes narrowed a little against the sun, just beginning to smile up at my aunt (and what you can’t see is the rusty little dinky car he’d found and offered her) with the waves just coming in on the shoreline.

That picture is my Grandad – it’s the perfect picture – relaxed, happy and just wandering along the shore of the beach looking for interesting things.

If there is a heaven, I hope that’s what he’s doing now.

For me at least, there is no goodbye, because I’ll always remember and I like to think I’ve learned enough from him to carry it with me into the world.

Are all of these words inadequate? You bet they are – but I’m not sure what else to say.

Before I even begin the post I need to state this plainly: I did not write this to garner pity or condolences. I’m writing because I’m curious about my own thoughts and about yours.

To be blunt, my Grandad is dying. He knows this, the DNR is signed and he’s in a good frame of mind all things considered.

When I first found out, my immediate and emotional response was to get myself on a plane to Ontario and go see him and the rest of the family. I can’t change the inevitable, but I hoped I could maybe do something useful (pretty nebulous thought really) and more selfishly there is a part of me that thought, “If I don’t see him now, I’ll feel horribly guilty later.”

Apparently some relatives of my Grandad’s in the U.K. had the same idea and wanted to fly here to see him. My Grandad was not at all happy about this and said no.

For my grandparents (and probably most people),  visitors create an obligation to entertain – to be civil, polite, cheerful and, well, entertaining. When these same visitors are there because you’re ill (and especially if you’re terminally ill) it creates the additional obligation of being kind, reassuring and soothing to alleviate any possible guilt your guests might feel about your illness or death.

And that last part is what bothers me now: how did something as personal as death become more about the people left behind and less about the person facing their own death?

How is my need to feel OK after he’s gone more important than his need now to spend whatever time remains to him with his wife of 60 years?

I’ve decided it isn’t.

Visitors are trying when you’re sick. They see you at your worst – weak, tired, loopy on pain medication, or just in pain and cranky. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be dying, but I can imagine the annoyance of having people seeking comfort and some kind of absolution from me when all I want to do is sleep or maybe just daydream a bit.

I have no aversion to his being ill or even seeing him sick – he’s always going to be Grandad to me. My love, respect and regard for him will never change. However, whether or not I have an aversion to seeing him now, he has asked for space and quiet; denying him that and forcing him to endure a visit that will tire him so I can feel better would be extremely disrespectful.

So, I’m staying in Vancouver until I get that final phone call. I saw him last November when he was still reasonably well and we got to hang out, talk, poke fun at stuff and share a nice meal together.

I get updates from Mum about them and she’ll let me know the days they might be up for a brief phone call just to say hello and share a little news – otherwise that’s all.

It still makes me feel utterly useless, but all I can offer is whatever they ask for.

What are your thoughts?