Remember and embrace those close and not so close to you

Friday evening just before leaving the office I was on FB and my friend Megan had posted on her status to make sure that the next time you accept a friend request that you take the time to reach out to that person.

She made this post because she had just found out that a friend that she thought she had all the time in the world to re-connect with was gone.

This is one of her current photos and how I always remember her: with a smile

After reading the comments by others further the name Emily came up.

I don't know why, but this prompted me to send my friend a PM and ask more questions. She and I had a friend from way back named Emily and I had really hoped that this was not "our" Emily.

20 minutes later I received her reply. It was "our" Emily. There was very little information, but Megan was going to keep me posted.

I was heartbroken. I hadn't seen Emily in 17 or 18 years and then about a year and a half ago she popped up on Facebook. We chatted a few times on FB and had tentatively made plans to have lunch soon. We never could get a time locked down for that lunch.

Just writing this has a rush of emotions washing over me. Regret, anger, sorrow, emptiness, oddly enough happiness. I know it's weird, but as you read on you'll see why.

Flashing back, I had met Emily in middle school at the same time I had met Megan. We had two years of friendship and bonding during our time in middle school. Then came the day that we would move onto high school and be at different schools and  probably not see each other that often.

We were right and wrong there. We didn't see each other much that freshman year, but the school I was at was going to close at the end of the year. Not enough attendance to keep 3 high schools open in one district as small as ours.

The next school year I was back in the same school with Emily, and Megan, and things were well on track to getting back to normal.

Well kind of.

There will be always be good things I remember about Emily. If I listen close enough in my mind I can hear her laugh. It's loud and high pitched and then she just doesn't make any noise because she's gasping for air from laughing so hard and her face is turning red.

Emily was a nurturer. Funny looking back at things now that she had this social role in life that early on. She was the one that would seek you out if you were having the shittiest of days......."lets ditch and go to Finnegan's for pancakes and coffee" she would say. Fuck yeah. Pancake and coffee therapy was her answer to everything.

She loved music. We were both band-tards. That was really how we met. It was initially the only class we had together when we first met. We both had a love of Pink Floyd though we argued on which was the better album put out by them. Her favourite was the Delicate Sound of Thunder tour album. I have three favourites. Still have not been able to narrow it down from there.

Then there was the love of partying. Emily loved to party.

Boy we did a lot drinking.

High school band trips were just one big portable party. Bunch of kids on a bus taken the drinking on the road. We found a place in every city to party!!

She loved her animals. She had cats and a dog. They were her comfort.

She always seemed to have a look on her face that lead most to believe she wasn't paying attention and was clueless. She was far from clueless and scary smart.

There lunch runs to Dick's Drive In almost everyday in her little VW Squareback. Trusty little P.O.S got her everywhere.

The summer of 1989 when we graduated was the last time I really saw Emily. I actually don't know what happened to her after that.

Jump forward a few years to 1993. I had a call from one of the parental units. Emily had called their house looking for me.

So we we reconnected again and were meeting for lunch. She was living with her folks and trying to get her life sorted out again. We had several long chats over quite a few meals.

That would be the last time I actually ever saw Emily.

She did contact me on Facebook about a year and a half ago. We chatted periodically. We had wanted to get together for lunch or some kind of catch up meal.

I really wished I had made it happen. Like Megan, I kind of thought that we had all the time in the world.

Emily took her own life last week.

Emily also had a history of drug addiction.

She would have been 40 in February.


Going back to all those feelings...........
Regret-that our plans never made it past that.....plans.
Anger-with myself for not making sure I took that extra time to see how she was really doing.
Sorrow-for all the other people in her life that will miss her as much and more.
Emptiness-simply for the fact that when I see other friends from school, we will all be missing something.
Happiness-she's free of her personal demons. She had a few and we all know that and now she can move on.

Emily touched our lives in a good way regardless of her addiction and faults and for that she will be missed.



This has to be 1989: Emily on the far right and yes, that is yours truly with the Coke can. It was the 80's!

Since we are both fans of Pink Floyd I think it's only fitting to share one of our favourites. Looking back on things I can't help but wonder if this was hers for personal reasons.


I'm a firm believer in reincarnation. I think she's not really gone, but that she's taking a mulligan so that she can learn what she didn't the first time around.

Well I hope so.

By Em.

and a peanut butter milkshake to go................

Saturday was the last day I was ever going to see my grandpa. He died that morning at 10:30.

Unfortunately I was not in time to see him before he passed. I shouldn't have taken time for granted.

I guess the begining of the end really started on Christmas day 2009. My grandpa fell at our condo on the way to our place. He went to the hospital about 2 hours later. No head trauma and nothing broken although he didn't remember anything about that morning. After a week in the hospital and another week in a live in rehab facility he was back home. A little tattered but still here. Getting around now with a walker and hooked up to oxygen at a rate of 2 litres.

Well after being home for two weeks he fell again. This time in his bathroom. He didn't set the brake on his walker. One of the aid car drivers remembered him and asked him if he remembered seeing him Christmas day. When asked how he felt compared to Christmas day, my grandpa replied: "a lot better".

It was serious this time. A femoral break at the head of the ball joint. This was going to require surgery.

Well that was delayed for about 5 days. The hospital felt that he was not well enough to safely do the surgery. The combination of his erratic pulse and the pnuemonia was making the situation bad to deal with.

The pnuemonia cleared up and a readjustment of his meds made the surgery possible a few days later. Hourly updates from the mom-unit brought some reassurances that day.

It was afterward where things started to drastically change. He never did fully wake up. He wasn't able to speak and his breathing was getting more shallow. He had been put on oxygen only a few weeks earlier after his first fall.

I really should have gone to the hospital this past week. I'm just not good in places like that. Never have been. I don't like doctours and I don't like hospitals. I don't visit people in hospitals and the one time I was in one for a surgery I was so high on meds that I don't know if people came to see me or not. Not sure I want to have people visit me in one. Obviously if you're visiting someone in a hospital they are not having one of lifes finest moments.

So in a period of less than 5 days he went from surgery ward to being placed in hospice. He was not able to physically eat becuase of a herniated esophagus. The hospital was not able to get a feeding tube into him becuase of this condition as well. His only nourishment at this point was from an IV drip. That was not proving to be very promising. He was given between 7-10 days. No one figured it would be far less than that.

Saturday February 6th:

I woke the sound of Scotland The Brave. It's the "generic" ringtone I installed on my blackberry. As a piper and someone who is part Scot it's a must. So anyway for the next hour and a half I'm getting call after call from the mother unit with upates on my grandfather. The Paisley and I have some brief discussions about getting to the hospital sooner than later in the day. Unfortunately sooner came quicker for grandpa than later. At 10:30 I got my last phone update on my grandpa. It was over. He was gone.

This is my last grandpa. I lost my first one in 1990 (on my 20th birthday) and the other in 1996. The math is wrong here if you're paying attention. Yes three grandfathers. This one is my step dad's father. He was the one that I just happen to be closest with becuase we lived so close to him. My other two grandfathers were on the other side of the state and I really only saw them during summers.

I had done things with this one that I had never done with the others: build things in the garage, fix cars and even go to work with him before he was retired. When I was 5 he took me for a ride on his motourcycle. First time I had every been on one. His driving scared me. I think I actually pissed myself and the bike. His driving scared a lot of people. It's one of my best memories of him.

It was very much like a scene from a scary movie walking into his hospital room yesterday morning. He was pale and jaundiced. He had died with his head back and his mouth open. It was as if he was in a permanent position for snoring. He did that very well and very loud. He and grandma had not shared a bedroom in the 35 years he had been grandpa becuase of  his snoring and probably had not shared a room for an even longer time prior to me being in their lives.

Maybe his head was back and his mouth was open for his soul to escape. Maybe I watch too much Dead Like Me.

It was creepy too. Eyes closed, head back and mouth open makes for a situation in scary movies. It gave me the willys. I felt myself hesitating to enter the room any further upon seeing him this way. My son was the most upset by this of my two kids. Grandma is a rock. She has her religion as her foundation. She was upset and crying, but dignified. As my wife stated: I've never seen grandma lose her composure."

My mom was acutally crying.

I am concerned about my step dad. Like me, he's the only kid. Unlike me, he's never had to deal with anyone close to him dying. This was his dad.

If I don't think about it then it doesn't bother me. I wasn't this upset with my other two grandpa's. Why? Was it becuase they lived so far away and the social and generational interaction was limited compared to this one? I can only suspect that as the cause. When I think about it, I become and emotional rollercoaster. I'm actually choosing to block this right now. I'm sure there will be plenty of emotional breakdowns later this week.

Grandma will have a service for him at their church later this week. There will be a final one at the military cemetary about 20 miles away. As a retiree of the United States Airforce and someone who served during two wars he qualifies for a military burial.

Grandma told us all in the room that morning that all grandpa wanted when he was lucid and awake was a peanut butter milkshake. It was his favourite.

I waited for everyone to leave the room. I closed the door a bit and approached the bed where my grandpa lay. I said my final goodbye to him as I grabbed his hand and squeezed it one last time. He wouldn't be squeezing back this time.