I shall pass through this world but once. Any good therefore that I can do or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again. (Mahatma Ghandi)
I wanted to add a postscript to my recent post about the Cancer Relay for Life. There was another incredibly special person at the event in the form of my sister’s (Kerrie) husband, Don.
Don was the Chairman of the City of Kawartha Lakes Relay. He worked tirelessly and devotedly to make sure that the evening was a success. Typical of Don, right down to the very last important detail, he cared about all the issues, even those that a Chairman shouldn’t have to think about (e.g. was there always toilet paper in the porta-potties? I’m not kidding; that is really, really critical at 3:00 in the morning in a fairground with hundreds of bleary eyed, on the edge of cranky, people!).
The City of Kawartha Lakes no doubt is blessed that Don and Kerrie decided to move up to their area a few years ago after a lifetime in the Greater Toronto Area. Don was a mega-top-of-the-ladder executive at Sony Music for many, many years before he decided to retire. He was Vice President of Sales and Marketing for a long time, and instrumental in signing or keeping happy the major talent that was signed throughout his decades in the music industry. Although Don was always very circumspect about what are conceivably the “mega-superstar-needs” of star performers, you could positively see his skills and diplomacy shining through during our Relay evening. He treated each volunteer and each participant as if he or she were the most important person of the evening. Grammy award winners all.
And so Kawartha Lakes (Lindsay) truly didn’t understand the blessing until Don got involved in the Relay. But those who were there that night did; to wit, every time I turned around people were seeking out Don and his wise counsel. You could also see a look of panic in the seeking volunteer’s eyes if we, his family, were unable to answer the question “Where’s Don?”
Of course, I must admit that Don’s participation has a benefit for me personally. It is clear that volunteering confers many positive health benefits on the volunteer. So, as I watched Don pay careful attention to every nuance of the night, I thought of how we – his family – would ultimately be blessed with many more years of his generosity and spirit.
Thanks for doing good, Brother-in-Law! If you’ll pardon the pun, you truly were the unsung hero of the night. Two hands clapping.
My mother lay dying.
She had struggled through agonizing and painful months of chemotherapy and pills trying to battle the beast that would eventually slay her. She had put her affairs in order, decided who was to receive the gift of her life’s treasures, said her final goodbyes to family and friends, and planned how to gracefully and with dignity pass her final days. My sisters and I had gathered around her for months, caregiving for her as she had done for us all of our lives. We watched her cope with a loss of dignity and control; we held her hand as she came to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to beat this; we listened as she said her final tearful goodbyes to her own mother; we felt her torment as she looked one last time upon the beloved faces of her grandchildren.
My mother had a harder life than most.
She raised four girls on her own at a time when single motherhood was unheard of. She gave up her son so that he would have a better life than he would have had with a single mom. I am sure she had to abandon many of her own dreams and desires in her single-minded pursuit that our lives would be better than hers. She had many regrets and many roads left untravelled.
And she always knew more than we ever did.
She knew, though we didn’t, how very challenging that our lives would be without the unquestionable support that she provided to each of us. She knew that we would face many days where we would be subconsciously thinking “I’ve gotta tell Mom about this”. Cause Mom would be proud; or Mom would understand our pain; or Mom would call us twenty times over the next day to remind us without words that she was always there for us; or she’d refrain that our kids are no different that we were; or Mom would simply be Mom.
Knowing this, she asked us to make a promise. A solemn promise to her as she lay dying. A testament to the success of the family she had always imagined we would be. A legacy she would leave behind.
She asked my sisters and me to always be family. To stay close; to not drift apart as families are wont to do when the linchpin is missing; to watch out for each other on earth as she would, could she; to celebrate each accomplishment of the grandchildren; to keep her alive in their memory; to dry each other’s tears and to weep in pride at each dream we accomplished that she’d not be around to bear witness to.
Typical of Mom, she put someone in charge. It was Kerrie, the big sister. She knew that Kerrie was the epitome of the mothering type who would craft moments of family even in the times of discontent and sadness. The really strong one who would take a promise and never let it remain unfulfilled. Kerrie would act as cheerleader through the years-without-mom, all the while never letting it be known that indeed she was the defacto ringleader.
She knew Kerrie.
For many years over the past nine, we celebrate the remembrance of Mom at Kerrie’s cottage. A family-filled weekend with laughter and tears, and mostly laughter and love. But then the cottage was sold and we no longer had a Mom place to remember.
Three years ago, Kerrie asked us to participate in the Cancer Relay for Life. A chance to get together and honour Mom, to celebrate her life, to remember who she was and how important she will always be to us. Kerrie puts her heart and soul into the event – decorations, food, music, gifts, daily reminders of our responsibilities, and gentle prods when we are straying from our goals. We call her “Kaptain”, an honourable name for a ringleader, a mantle for a true keeper of promises.
The team of ten for the Cancer Relay keeps changing. There are a few constants: the sisters, of course, and Kelly and Lisa (the daughters of the sisters). There are a few new members depending on the year and who wants to try out the “blessed” opportunity of staying up all night in the cold and damp weather to walk an endless track, hoping that each step might lead to a cure to cancer. And each year, thanks to the grace of our friends, we contribute to the cause in the dream that others won’t have to face the moment when a good-bye is the last one. Although we raised over $7,000 this year as a team, I could never put a price on any of the moments we spent last night. If a dollar of that total is the difference between a presence and a goodbye, we’ll find that grace.
Somewhere in the long, lonely night I tell myself each year that I am not going to do this again. I’m cold; I’m tired; I want my bed; I want quiet and tranquility; I want not to be placed in this zone where I am without-Mom.
In the nanosecond it takes to process the not-next-year thought, I know I am bogus.
I made a promise.
And Mom in her last breaths knew that I needed an earth-bound angel to hold my feet to the fire when the promise seemed illusory. She predicted the hole in my life that would chasm without her.
And so, she gave me Kerrie.
Kaptain.
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