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 |  Some of my musings. |
| Bob is no more. He left us a few days ago. Neither he nor his family received any advance warning. One minute he was very much alive and the next he simply was not. For ninety-one years young he lived his life to the fullest. He still owned and drove a car. He initiated long phone chats. He kept up to date with the activities of extended family. Bob maintained his status as an avid reader. Current events evoked lively discussions. Only in the past year had he curtailed travel abroad. On the day of his passing Bob had participated in a weekly ritual, bowling with friends. Despite a hip replacement, a pacemaker, an untreated hernia and a bout with prostate cancer he kept himself active and engaged. He liked to be 'out and about.' He did not want to become a 'couch potato.' Bob had promised a neighbour he'd prepare her income tax return and killing two birds with one stone he invited this woman and her spouse for supper. Dining on pizza, laughing and nattering Bob stopped breathing as he sat on the couch in his livingroom. He died enjoying himself. Resuscitation efforts failed to restart his heart and his pacemaker continued to function delivering electrical shocks. All the fuss and muss occurred after his death. He did not live to see the EMTs struggle to revive him. He did not regain consciousness in the ambulance. Bob died seemingly without suffering. Bob had the dubious distinction of being the last parent. Both my Mom and Dad departed this mortal coil years ago. My mother-in-law has been deceased for thirty-nine years. Now my hubby is bereft and my father-in-law is no more. Time will no doubt accentuate the void. Bob did not follow in his parents' footsteps. As an only child he emigrated to Canada from England. He did not fancy the rural lifestyle into which he'd been born. Becoming a farmer was not his dream. He sought an education and thrived as a mechanical engineer. Bob loved to travel and explore. He once built his own sailboat and captained 'her' through many a foray. He created home movies and mastered editing and special effects. He and his camera were forever capturing the perfect moments. During his lifetime, Bob renovated many homes revealing a skill for carpentry. I did puzzle over Bob's inability, his penchant for misunderstanding vehicles. He was a mechanical engineer after all. Car mechanics I suppose are not the same thing. He specialized in overhead handling machinery aka cranes. His various cars were often neglected and abused. He once had to manoeuver a full-sized station wagon in reverse during rush hour heavy traffic in Toronto because he'd ignored warning signs the transmission required fluid. During one road trip he struck something significant and heavy on the road without swerving around it. As a result he tore out his car's undercarriage. He defended himself by claiming he'd hit a "rock coon." My Canadian born children loved their Grandad's accent. Often out and about in public they'd hear someone speaking and exclaim, "That man sounds just like Grandad." Bob shared that when he returned to visit England his extended family and friends accused him of becoming Canadianized because they swore his accent had disappeared. I still remember the good-natured ribbing and rivalry I witnessed at Bob's eightieth birthday bash. All the different dialects and accents from England were in attendance and the party goers teased each other mercilessly. I heard calls of "Southie" and words like "punter". I especially liked "scarpered" and "gobsmacked." Bob spoke of shepherding sheep as a young lad and staring at the stars dreaming of living somewhere else. Maturing into a young man he dreaded becoming a soldier and enduring a mandatory military lifestyle. He decided he would emigrate and he believed he had two choices, Canada or Australia. After a future excursion he would later joke that he could've been luxuriating in the balmy weather of Australia instead of the intense winters of Canada. The coin toss could have been either country. Bob fathered two sons who in turn fathered four grandchildren. The next generation consists of four great-granddaughters. That is an indisputable legacy. Goodbye Bob. As father-in-laws go I hit the jackpot. Another one bites the dust.(715 words) |
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