Better Days

It’s been a nightmarish ten days. My dreams are of better days ahead.

I spent the weekend worrying about David, my Father-in-Law. I’m still worried, but the last report I have is of him sneaking past the nurses to steal a smoke outside not long after his surgery, so I guess I can relax on that front.

On Thursday I paid my respects to a friend who died of lung cancer, and spent the afternoon after the funeral offering support and listening to stories told by his family.

The same day Doug died – the previous Saturday – my boss and his wife had to deal with the death of her younger sister, who was killed after a late night collision with a tree in north Pickering.

The next day I’m hearing the sad news from a colleague that his Step-Mom is terminally ill, with a prognosis of only a week or so to live.

Damn.

We’ve been sending lots of love and positive energy to David, who checked in to Hamilton General to deal with an aneurysm near his stomach. Doctors discovered a nasty blood clot on his lung during the operation, so that wasn’t a great update, and the two transfusions, the collapsed lung and the bout with pneumonia that followed didn’t fill me with good vibrations either.

But, like I said, he’s already been seen escaping from the clutches of his captors to grab a smoke, so he appears to be on the mend.

You get yourself home, David, and let Lene take care of you. I’ll be paying you a visit in Burlington soon.

My hope for better days ahead for David was preceded by memories of the good ol’ days gone by with Doug, who is the older brother of my pal Colin. Our day with Doug was bittersweet, as these occasions tend to be.

Doug, or Pluto, as he was affectionately called (because he was out there), had always lived life to excess, from his soccer playing days back home in Scotland as a youth – he was quite the talent, once upon a time – to his later years as a hard-partying, hard-living man here in Canada.

So the announcement that he had cancer wasn’t in itself shocking, especially as he had been feeling poorly of late. He was given nine months, which could give he and his family time to plan; to prepare.

He was gone in three weeks, after the cancer spread to his brain.

The funeral was difficult, especially for his nephew Justin, who lived with Doug, but the stories told by his family at his wake – usually involving Uncle Pluto falling asleep (anywhere), running out of gas (everywhere), or drinking (almost any time), helped ease the pain somewhat.

Doug lived just a short walk from one of the properties we maintain, so I'll always remember meeting him in the darkness on  random mornings as he strolled to the store. He'd be up before dawn every day, as I am, and we'd always stop and chat.

I'll miss that.

Rest in Peace, Doug. You have a lovely family and you will be missed.

R.I.P. as well to Cheryl, and prayers and love to Brian’s Step-Mom.

Better days ahead.