This was originally written in May 2017, and hasn't been edited since it was written then.
This is a very personal blog entry, one I struggled to read after writing. I hadn't published it until now, I wasn't sure if I should. Writing it gave me closure at the time. I'm still not sure if I should publish it now either, but here it is anyways.
I saw a man die on Thursday morning. I haven't told anyone this, as I've tried to put it out of my mind. But I watched a man die. He was laying on the pavement below Surrey Central station, and paramedics were doing chest compressions as I rounded the corner to head up to the train platform, I don't know how how long they'd been there for. I was late for work, and there was nothing I could do. But I watched a man die. His shirt was torn open, and he wasn't breathing. As I rode the escalator up I could see one of the paramedics sit up, look at his partner, and shake his head solemnly. They disappeared from my view after that, as I reached the platform above.
I didn't know this man, I never will. I don't know if was someone's father, someone's husband, a brother, an uncle. If you knew this man, I'm sorry for your loss, I truly am.
A couple of weeks ago I lost someone very dear to me as well. She was a friend, a mother, an aunt, a wife, a grandmother. She was my grandmother, and I'll miss her everyday. I'm not sure if I've come to terms with her absence yet, maybe that's why I'm writing this post. It's important to remember those we've lost, to cherish the memories we have. It's important to grieve.
She was the strongest woman I've ever known. She lived through the second world war with bombs raining down throughout her neighbourhood. She came to Canada as a young girl with her parents and brothers to settle on the Sunshine Coast, a foreigner in a new land on the other side of the globe. She met my grandfather, married and had two children, my aunt and my father. She had three grandchildren, and one great grandchild. She battled cancer throughout her life, beating it several times, until it finally came for her one last time.
She used to take my cousin, my sister and I to the beach below their house to throw stones, swim, fish. She made us cookies and bread. She was quick to smile, slow to anger, and gave the best hugs. She taught me the value of patience, as I waited for the bread to rise, eager for a warm slice with butter as a young boy. She listened to our troubles, and gave us advice, but never judgement. She kicked my ass at monopoly and crib everytime we played, teaching me to never play monopoly with an accountant.
She loved my grandfather with such devotion and ferocity. She was the light of his life. Grandpa, never let that light go out - it's not gone, only dimmed, keep that fire burning. Cherish those times you had together, those decades. Crystal and I aspire to have a love like yours, 60 years of marriage is an incredible achievement.
She loved her friends, her family. She loved her grandchildren, and spoiled us often. She loved her great granddaughter, and I'm so glad they were able to spend even the brief times they had together. I wish Ciri had been so blessed as to know Crystal's grandparents as well.
It's a difficult fact to face, but time comes for us all at some point, whether we're prepared for it or not. Grandma was ready. My grandma lived a long life, full of love and joy, and ups and downs. There were hard times and good times. She made the best of all of them, and is at the heart of some of my favourite memories. I'll never forget her smile, the sound of her voice, the smell of her baking. But I'll always miss her hugs, and those walks on the beach.