Seeking Grace

I was sitting in class on Friday when I happened to check my e-mail at the noon break. Bad news on the internet highway: our friend Jeff Graham had lost his battle to his brain tumour.

Grammy, as he was known to his friends, fought the battle long and hard, beating back the tumour on a number of occasions. He delighted in his life, in his beloved wife Susan, and in his two children. He seemed to be the happiest man on earth despite the fact that he was living with a virtual ticking time bomb in his head.

I could barely keep it together during the afternoon. There were many times when the silent tears would start flowing down my face. I know that my colleagues at the table were watching me closely and they agonized over what they could do to help. Up to that point they’d known me as always laughing and positive; all of a sudden, my face looked like the sunshine had been stolen from the day. They gently suggested that I go home.

But I wanted to stay. Holding it together was a way of honouring Jeff. I remembered his e-mail to me when I was called to the Bar:

“My hope for you, is that you continue to challenge yourself, and that you give it all you got in achieving them. But most importantly, while completing these tasks, keeping the most important things front and centre, and that is "your family and friends." Thank you so much for what you do for me...”

Jim and I spent some time that evening remembering Jeff and honouring all the memories. Most importantly, Jim sang songs that used to delight Jeff (he was a huge John Denver fan) and that reflected the love that Jeff had for Susan and his kids.

Jeff’s favourite song was “Rocky Mountain High”. As Jim sang the familiar words, tears coursed down my face; they were such a fitting testament to Grammy:

He climbed cathedral mountains,
he saw silver clouds below,
saw everything as far as you can see.
And they say that he got crazy once and that he tried to touch the
sun, and he lost a friend, but kept his memory.
Now he walks in quiet solitude, the forest and the stream,
seeking grace in every step he takes,
his sight is turned inside himself, to try and
understand, the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake.

Jeff’s brain tumour meant that he had to walk in “quiet solitude” as few could understand what living with the constant threat would be like. Yet, he sought grace in every step he took and he taught many of us what living with grace was all about.

I will miss you, Grammy. We’ll sign off -- until we meet again -- with your signature goodbye to me:

Be Well and Take Care.