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February 10, 2006

In Passing

At this point in my life, death is nothing new to me, but rather a daily event - sometimes twice daily, sometimes more. It's a powerful event, I would say more powerful than any other event we experience in our lives. More powerful than love, more powerful than the birth of a child.

Although I am surrounded every day by reminders of death's existence (and unless in jest with Jeri), death is not something I truly contemplate or dwell on. Instead, like most people (ok, perhaps not like most), I push the thought of death to the deeper regions of my mind and continue on peacefully and happily.

And sometimes events happen that crumble blow that idea to pieces.

That event being of course, the death of someone I respected. Someone I admired. Someone I thought very highly of.

Then death is no longer something I've experienced or bore witness to, but rather the experience becomes very new, very foreign all over again.

No matter how we perceive ourselves; our role or purpose in this world, we have no idea how many lives are touched by our life. We have no idea the impact we may have had in someone else's life. We may never know how or what about ourselves affected others, or what influence our actions may have had on someone.

I never had the chance took the time to tell you what I learned from you. I never thanked you for teaching me the finer points of patience. I never thanked you for the patience you always had with me. The kindness with which you never failed to treat me with. The many small memories that I will forever carry with me. The ever present butterscotch hard candies, to "get me ready for kisses". The clomp of your feet as you strolled down the hall, cane in hand, slow but ever determined. The secrets to a happy marriage: "mm hmm, mm hmmm, mmhmm". For always making sure my truck was washed, and full of gas every week. For insisting on helping me with money when I had none, or was in need. How you insisted on giving me your credit card to take a date out to dinner. Hearing you settle yourself down for your afternoon naps (audible proof that aging is painful). Watching you try in vain to slick down your wiry hair, that damn clip on tie.

And most of all, for being one of the most genuine people I have ever had the opportunity to meet.

It was an honour knowing you,

thank you Stanley.

Contrived by Joshua at February 10, 2006 10:00 AM

Comments

Is there someone who you would like to thank then while there is still time enough?

Posted by: doodle at February 11, 2006 05:30 PM

There's more people than I realized, I should start working on that. But do so in a way that doesn't sound as though I am on step 8 of 12.

Posted by: Joshua at February 12, 2006 08:16 AM

Stanley, as in Mr Krotenberg(sp?)?


Wow.


I'm stunned.

Posted by: Seth at February 12, 2006 02:33 PM

there is no shame getting off addiction.

Posted by: doodle at February 13, 2006 05:46 AM

The Krotenberg himself - it should be noted that I am not in a 12 step program either. What fun would that be?

Posted by: Joshua at February 13, 2006 07:28 AM