Margaret

"Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before, advanced a stage or two upon that road which you must travel in the steps they trod." - Unknown

She was the boss who showed me how to be a boss.  She was a relentless friend, a go between, a champion and a cheerleader.   Yesterday I learned that my old friend Margaret Robertson passed away.  We were more than thirty years apart in age.  I remember when she turned sixty.  She redefined aging in my young eyes.  It was the year she traveled to Africa to go mountain climbing.  She loved the notion of turning sixty feeling it gave her the freedom to say what she wanted and do what she wanted and most of all, to stop doing what she didn't want to do.  She took an early retirement and retreated to her West Hill home where she could enjoy nature.

Much of what I learned from Margaret came in handy many years later.  She adored her sons and daughter and gave them the freedom to express themselves and live their lives.  She didn't have a melt down when she got home one afternoon to see marijuana drying on her roof.  She just asked them to take it down.  When they became teenagers she put condoms in their Christmas stockings.  She accepted the friends they brought home and accepted them.  She was much the same with me.   When Margaret tried to protect me from workplace politics, a nasty executive at the hospital where we worked accused her of behaving more like my mother than like my boss.  She responded that she should be so lucky as to be my mother.  I bought her a Mother's Day gift that year. 

For a number of years after we worked together I would go to visit her at her home.  I remember when I took Jacob to see her.  She was wonderful with him.  I also remember a night she planned a lovely lamb dinner for us.  She had just rescued a sheep dog who apparently smelled the defrosting leg of lamb, took it off the counter and ate it before Margaret could get it in the oven.  I don't remember what we ate that night but I do remember how hard we laughed.  

Somehow Margaret convinced me that the sixties are the best time of life.  That thought has sustained me often in these past few weeks as I am about to embark on the last year of my fifties.  As things too often go, years have passed since I've seen her.  I have infrequently heard news of her from a mutual friend.  She had become a doting grandmother before she made the descent into dementia.  Margaret Robertson was a great lady, a great boss and a great friend.  My life was better for having known her.

Tears

“There is a sacredness in tears.  They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.  They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.  They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.” – Washington Irving

I have shed a million tears this week.  Tears of profound sadness.  Tears of profound joy.  I have lived the highest highs and the lowest lows in just seven days. 

Howard's death last Sunday hit me with a depth of sadness that I have not experienced in many years.  I have slept fitfully, waking up through the night and asking myself if his passing was real or just a bad dream.  I have cried in the night when trying to get to sleep and in the early morning hours when rising. And yet, at the same time I am grieving, I am celebrating.  The trip to Guelph on Tuesday to watch Jacob pick up his award was a balm for my soul.  Thursday's trip to Guelph to watch him graduate was overwhelming.  On both occasions I wept tears of joy.  My baby has grown into a remarkable, accomplished and confident man.  

And in between the sadness and joy, I have spent the week shopping, cooking and hosting those who came to share in our sorrow and in our joy.  Now I am tired.  It is time to rest.

Howard

“Life at best is bittersweet.” – Jack Kirby

He was our miracle man.  A double lung transplant in the nick of time to elate a whole community of people for Christmas.  A few short months later, looking hale and hearty, a role on a television commercial promoting the wonders of organ donation.  I saw the commercial for the first time on Sunday evening just about thirty minutes before he died.  Howard passed away on his 58th birthday after suffering a massive heart attack.  

We had a few good months, a couple of delightful dinners, a lot of laughs, some heart-to-heart discussion.  Howard and Lise returned to their home in Timmins once Howard recovered.  They came back a few weeks ago because he had developed an infection that the doctors in Timmins were unable to get under control.  I spent an afternoon with them week before last.  Howard was afraid but the doctors were reassuring.  They would get the virus under control and he would be fine - back to Timmins in time for the best of fishing season.  It was not meant to be.

Cath called me early Sunday morning to tell me he was on life support.  I went and stayed with her until Stan got home from the lake and they went to the hospital to sit with Lise.  Throughout the day, Cath sent me text messages - he was failing, he was rallying, he was improving, he was failing again.  Eventually she texted that it was just a matter of time.  Then at 9:37, a message "He's fine."  I was bewildered.  I texted back a response saying I didn't understand.  At 9:40 another message "He's gone."  Some would say Cath wasn't doing a good job of hitting the keys on her smartphone and the first message was why predictive typing drives us all so crazy.  I would prefer to think when she typed in "He's gone", Howard changed the message to let me know he is gone from this world but we shouldn't worry because he's fine.  

I hope the fish are plentiful and the skies are blue. You will be missed, my dear friend.

Pyar

"He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels."  ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I've been feeling nostalgic these past few days as I've started the month of personal introspection that always preceeds my birthday.  I've been thinking about the people who played a part in my life in years past but have somehow slipped away.  One of the people on my mind was my old friend Pyar Dossal.  I haven't seen him in about fifteen years since he retired and I left my executive position with the bank.  So it was with surprise and sadness that I read the notice of his death in today's paper.  

Pyar was a facinating man.  I worked with him at an insurance company in the 1980s.  He was an actuarial executive; I a human resources specialist.  It was a young company with most of management in their thirties or forties - except for Pyar.  Pyar was thirty years older than I am.  I was just thirty when I went to work at the company.  In those days I didn't know Pyar well.  He was quiet and unassuming.  I was young and bold.  I remember speaking with him as he packed up his office when he left the company.  It is the only time I remember saying more than good morning or good night.

Some years later I ran into Pyar when I was working downtown.  He had become a pension consultant, I had moved into the ranks of senior management as a human resources executive at an American bank.  He invited me to lunch and I accepted.  That was the first of many delightful lunches we shared.  Within a couple of months, I fired the pension consultant we were using at the bank and hired Pyar.  Over the course of the next few years, we got to know one another.  He introduced me to the world of Indian cuisine.  We talked about our families, our lives, our hopes and dreams.  He spoke to me about his work with Amnesty International and about his life as a young boy in India.  Those lunches were special.  I'm grateful that I got a second chance to know Pyar.  He taught me to open my eyes to the quiet, unassuming person in the corner that I might otherwise miss seeing.

Pyar Dossal left the world a better place for his having been in it.  Sleep well my friend.  You've earned your rest.

Magnificent Maleficant

"I call on those who live in the shadows. Fight with me now!" - Maleficant

Lest you think Angelina Jolie's new movie Maleficant is  just a kids movie, be warned that it might be a bit scary for little ones - at least in the 3D format that I saw last night.  A year ago, I might have been wary about going to the theatre to voluntarily see a Disney movie for my own entertainment but I was a huge fan of Frozen when dragged off to the theatre to see it in January.  So when my friend Wendy suggested we spend an evening with Maleficant, I was all in.  Truth be told, I didn't see any children in the theatre last night.

What I did see was a brilliant performance by Angelina Jolie who took a one dimensional Disney character and layered her with complexity.  I think we can all see a bit of ourselves in Maleficent.  The story is a tale of love and loss, revenge and regret, redemption and reconciliation.  It is a beautiful story.  It is also visually spectacular.  I suspect I may find myself sneaking off to the theatre some Tuesday afternoon for another visit with Maleficant.

Bursting

“Spectacular achievement is always preceded by unspectacular preparation.” – Robert H. Schuller

It's a good thing the warm weather is finally here because I'm so filled with pride that I'm sure I would burst the buttons on any jacket I put on.

Last Wednesday night, I learned from Jacob that he has been named as the recipient of the Helen Grace Tucker Design Award for the faculty of Computer Engineering at the University of Guelph.  The award is made to the student with the highest three year average in design.  In addition to a small cash award, a ceremony will be held next week a couple of days before his convocation.  One of the great things about that, is that Jacob can bring as many people as he likes to the ceremony.  As he is unable to secure enough tickets to invite his aunts and uncle to convocation, this will still give them an opportunity to participate in his graduation process.  And it will give his dad and I two separate occasions to watch our incredible son cross the stage and be honored for his hard work and tremendous achievement.

As if that wasn't enough to keep me floating, on Friday my best friend Gail was awarded her Doctorate in Business Administration.  I am so inspired by her and so awed by her tenacity, brilliance and stellar achievement that I was speechless when she called and gave me the news.  I don't think that Gail has ever known me to be speechless in the twenty seven years that we've been friends and as she couldn't see the tears rolling down my face, I sure hope I was still able to convey through my sniffles and mutters that I couldn't feel happier for or prouder of her. 

Yesterday I hit the party store and bought two sets of graduation decorations.  Let the celebrations begin!