R. I. P.

          A couple of days ago was a very sad day but then hearing about people dying, who you know and care about, is anything but happy. My friend Glenn Maclean's wife Edna, after 56 years of marriage, died in the hospital after coming down with pneumonia.  And, as if that wasn't bad enough, a friend of mine Carsten, at only age 50, died from a heart attack.  My wife Sarah is took it pretty hard since she has been working for Glenn two days a week for almost 3 years, doing basically home-care and, Carsten was her friend as well.              
         Since there is quite a gap, 25 years in Sarah's and my age, for some time now, we've been discussing having our wills made up, which is probably the sensible thing to do, especially considering my age.  And after what happened, I expect we will have them drawn up very shortly; there's just so much stuff  and I believe it makes things easier when everyone's emotions are strung out at the immediate time of their loss.  It's difficult to think about dying and wills, it seems so permanent and final.  It's odd, even at my age, I feel there are still many things I would like to do and still capable of doing.  However, probably more importantly, just the thought of leaving my wife permanently, never to look into her blue eyes, hear her laughter, hold her in my arms and never again be with her is heart breaking and having all the legal stuff attended to would just be one less thing for her to be concerned with on that day of grieving; perhaps make my passing a little easier.
           As far as I'm concerned, life is just one big crap-shoot and although I've been rolling sevens and elevens for a long time, betting double or nothing on every roll, I don't kid myself, I know that sooner or later, I'm going to roll snake-eyes or boxcars.  So far, I've outlived my dad by five years and about a year from now, I'll be about the same age as my mother when she passed away.  Although there is longevity in my family on both sides, I'm not sure that counts for a whole lot when it comes to dying - some of my family members died quite young.  I had an artist friend named Sharron who died around age 55; she was a firm believer that a hereafter exists.  She had a brain tumor that was inoperable and when she only had a few months remaining to live, she told me she didn't mind because she would be with the Lord.  I have to admit because I could see it in her eyes that she wasn't afraid to die and since I'm not much of a believer, if I have an idea when I'm about to die, I may find it rather scary.
          When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I worked alongside my dad as a stable-boy at the racetrack; he was a very good horse trainer.  When he died, I was living in another province.  The last time I saw him, I was on my honeymoon.  Funny the things a person thinks about, but I can still see him grabbing our heavy suitcase from the train station and carrying it out to his car.  He'd had a heart attack not that long before, and although I told him I'd carry it; he insisted; but that was just the sort of guy my dad was.  My dad has been dead over 44 years and the strange thing is, often when I'm mucking out the chicken coop and the animal's barn, it takes me back to when I worked at the track and mucked out the horse's stalls; at times it almost feels like he's there beside me.  If perhaps heaven does indeed exist and horses and other domestic animals are there, I've worked at a lot of things during my life and out of them all, I wouldn't mind being a stall-mucker again; it would be alright in my books.
          A person doesn't have to be old to die that's for sure.  When I worked at the racetrack, Barb, a pretty blonde 18 year old girl, who I knew quite well, was suddenly diagnosed with cancer and died very soon after.  My best friend at the time, Ken, was killed at age 21, when he was drunk and lost control of his convertible.  Those young years were wild and heady times and I didn't live my life in a shy manner.  I've came close to dying or being maimed many times when I was younger and I don't mean real young either.  I had other friends who were killed or lost their minds to drugs and alcohol and why I was spared, I have no idea.  I suppose we all look for meaning in our lives and now that I'm nearing the end of my life, I wish I could have found some real substantial meaning but perhaps that's not what life is about; we are not meant to know its meaning.  I can remember a time when my life was so screwed up, I had lost almost complete control of it.  My doctor said he could recommend a good psychiatrist but I told him, "I got myself into this mess; I can get myself out."  Not sure if I did or not totally but I did make some major changes, which I'm happy to say made a difference.
          I've watched people take their last rattling breath, even closed my mother's sparkling blue eyes; death is definitely final.  I don't know what happens after that last breath, the eyes are closed for the last time but I do know the person that died still lives on, that is, at least until the last person they knew takes their final breath too.
          Edna's and Carsten's passing has certainly put me in touch with my mortality.  Having people very close to me who have died over the years, gives me a fairly good idea what Glenn and Tracy must be feeling after losing their chosen loves and my heart goes out to them.  I usually end my ramblings with cheers, eh - but somehow those words don't really fit this blog - so instead, I'll end it by saying, "Give your chosen love a big hug and tell him or her that you love them very much."