“Ben”

When my husband and I were sitting in the delivery room at Collingwood General and Marine Hospital on July 28th, 1994, I remember asking Kevin, “Are we ready for this?”.  I guess it wasn’t really the time to be considering whether or not we were prepared, but the question begged to be asked.

Now, this day, July 29th, 2012, I am still not sure I can answer that question.  The only thing I am sure of is how blessed Kevin and I have been to have a son like our “Ben”.

He came into the world in the wee hours of the morning after a very long and difficult struggle.  Had it been days of old, the doctor warned, you would have both been goners.  As comforting as he thought those words may have been  – I was not so reassured.  The impression I have always been left with, though, is how lucky Ben and I have bee along the way.

Ben was named with the hope that he would grow into a “gentle giant”. Kevin and I knew he’d likely be tall – but the gentle part we knew was more of a gamble.  I don’t know that a name makes a man – but Ben has made the name his own.  And gentle he is.

Nanna and Poppa loved Ben’s visits.  She, of course, would appeal to Ben’s hearty appetite, and Poppa would appeal to Ben’s intellect.  Ben was a loyal grand-child right until the end.  He visited them faithfully every week as a regular participant of the Wednesday night dinners and then, as Poppa aged, Ben would take a week-end care-giving shift .. until it became too difficult as a “grand-child”.  I am confident that Ben would have always been able to do what needed to be done in terms of first-aid or emergency care, but I always preferred that Ben remain a grand-child rather than a caregiver.

Ben is kind.  He is one of the youngest “Elder” (kind of an ironic title) at our church and was a favorite partner of the Minister’s wife with whom she liked to deliver the church newsletter door-to-door.

Ben is SO good with older people and not afraid of the sick or the elderly or those less “able” than others.  He is a faithful member of the Jesus Walk crew – helping sing songs, lead in worship, dance, tell jokes.. whatever needs to be done – with handi”capable” participants.  I hear, “Ben, Ben, Ben” when we walk into the building.  I am asked, “Is Ben coming tonight? Is Ben coming tomorrow? You get the picture.

I admire my son.  He is strong, talented, and an overall good person. Truthfully, he is any parents dream.  Yes, I may be a little biased, but what the heck… I am one of his biggest cheer-leaders and fans.

Recently, our community suffered a grave loss.  A young lady of 17 was killed tragically while working at a camp for the summer.  She had been a class-mate of Ben’s and had traveled with him and several others on a unique educational program last year.  The loss of their daughter, has left the parents with a hole in the family that will never be filled.  This loss reminds us, once again, about how appreciative we must be of one another always.

I sometimes can get lost in my own grief for Dad – and Mom – and forget the lessons that he taught me not even a month ago – the lessons of appreciation.

And so, this post, is dedicated to “Ben”.  Thank-you for being such a wonderful son.  I am honoured to be your Mom and hope that your Dad and I were, after-all, “ready for you”.

I wish you a wonderful day, Ben, that leads into a continued wonderful and gentle life.

Happy birthday big guy!

TTFN

Love, Mom

Firsts.. for the Second Time..

Today is the first time ..

• I’ve wished my oldest son, Happy Birthday, Ben! through a post…
• I’ve made Ben escargots for breakfast
• I’ve changed Mom’s recipe for cauliflower soup to suit my health-crazed daughter (that’s also the last time I’ll change it..)
• I’ve recognized how birthdays, as you age, can be opportunities
• I’ve been able to catch up on these posts
• I’ve sat under the gazebo this summer and had the morning dew drip on my back
• I’ve heard “Dad’s songbird” sing in the garden and not had him try to whistle the tune back to the bird
• I’ve realized that I’m holding onto Mom and Dad’s condo for sentimental sake
• I’ll shop for groceries in my 50th year
• I’ve weighed so much in my life.. other than being pregnant – too much celebrating so far this summer
• My parents have not called my child on the occasion of his birthday
• I’ve spelled occasion correctly for the first time
• I’ve seriously considered my ability to retire from teaching in five years
• I’ve rooted for a country to win a beach volleyball game (I’ve not really ever been a fan  – just no exposure till now)

But, should I be granted the gift of tomorrow and tomorrow, it will not be the first time..

• I will enjoy the company of my husband and children
• I will be served a morning coffee by my husband
• I will sip my coffee under the gazebo with my husband
• I will cry over coffee about my parents
• I will smile over coffee about my parents
• I will rejoice in my family
• I will wish my oldest son a wonderful birthday!
• I will prepared something “odd” for my son to eat as per his birthday request.
• I wish all of you some very happy firsts – may these bear repeating.

And once again, “TTFN”

Leonard Birchall

Thanks to Dad – I know of Leonard Birchall – one of our famous Canadians who most young Canadians know nothing about.  But those who know burst with pride and admiration.  Birchall was honoured in 2009 as one of the 100 most influential Canadians in aviation and had his name emblazoned directly behind the starboard roundel on the fuselage with the others on the 2009 CF – 18 Centennial of Flight demonstration Hornet. (Lee, Mary. “Centennial Heritage Flight – Precision and Flight Safety.” airforce.forces.gc.ca, 2009 Issue 2. Retrieved: 14 August 2010.)   But those who knew him bust with pride and admiration.

This photo was taken at the graduation ceremony for one of my “Duff” cousins at Royal Military College in Kingston.  Dad, as I recall, got a terrible sunburn on that day – but he was bursting with pride over Kent’s graduation. It was a very happy day.

I spoke about Birchall in a earlier post in Dad’s voice:  Catalina Flying Boat.

Please have a peek at one of Canada’s “historical figures and moments”.  Birchall is also known as the Saviour of Ceylon.

Red Lobster: A “Vital” Dining Experience

I danced with Martin yesterday to Anne Murray’s Snowbird… played on my nephew’s iphone… in Red Lobster.

The waitress said, this is one of the nicest celebrations I’ve ever seen… with a tear in her eye.

David, our host, towered above the eclectic crew of 14 who had gathered in the restaurant’s back room to honour life.  Nay a tear was shed there – it just could not happen.  There was too much to be thankful for.

We were all eating food that we knew Mom and Dad – Bill and Paula – Nanna and Poppa – Grandma and Grandpa liked.  It was as though eat mouthful tasted better than anything I had ever tasted in my life.  It had to.  The food represented Mom and Dad’s lives: succulent, flavourful, rich, well-done, elegant, timely, well seasoned.  I could go on.  Suffice it to say – the meal nourished our souls.

How can one capture the essence of what had just happened only an hour previous to these dining and dancing delights?

Food has always been a big part of our lives.  Growing up, my brother would always ask for the same thing from Mom for his birthday dinner:  escargots, fondue, pineapple delight, and garlic bread.  The escargots at Red Lobster were almost too much to take.  I must confess they almost brought a tear to my eye – our connection to food appears to be one of the last “senses” to go – if that makes sense?  Jamie, Martin and I had to order lobster (not grilled, but steamed) for Dad, and scallops for Mom (count how many are on the plate!).  Fantastic.  Megan ordered the coconut shrimp that Mom had always ordered when she and Megan and she and I and my kids ate at Red Lobster.  Fantastic.  Again – the shrimp almost brought a tear.  I could go on.

Food is memories.  And every memory associated with food is happy.  Who wouldn’t be happy eating Mom’s roast beef and Yorkshire Pudding?  Well, again, to be honest – we were not all such big fans of the Yorkshire Pudding, but were all too ashamed to not eat these works of art so carefully and lovingly prepared for dinner by Mom.  She had a special pan that still sits almost religiously in the pantry – untouched since the last time “she” used it.  “No soap on that pan!”, she would insist.  The soap would affected the taste of the puddings.

Food is comforting.  All 14 of us walked into Red Lobster yesterday not knowing how to feel.  We were slightly lost and although we knew each other very well – we were all slightly uncomfortable with the newness of this unlikely new family we had formed.  Here we were – how had it come that we all were gathered together?  We all sat – our new family – to enjoy a meal together.  How Mom would have celebrated.

And then there was the wine.  I could go on.

Yesterday’s meal brought a group of people together who represented all ages in life, all walks in life, all sizes, shapes, and colours… as a family.  It had been a “vital” dining experience for all of us.

Dad:  You done good kid!

Mom:  Wonderful.  I just love those coconut shrimp, but I can make escargots better!

Stacey:  It was sure nice that you could join us yesterday, Mom and Dad.

Jamie (to the other 13):  On behalf of Mom and Dad, I’d like to thank-you for helping us to celebrating the lives of Bill and Paula Duff.

All:  TTFN

The “A Team”

July 5, 2012

It’s 7:55 pm and we (the angels and I) are all gathered to celebrate our success:  success in celebrating Mom and Dad’s life and our role in helping them to maintain their dignity … to the end.

I asked the ladies to contribute to this blog.  I wish I could capture the conversation live – but they speak too quickly and passionately – so – I ‘m asking that they capture a few words on this blog.  God bless these ladies as they speak… bring it on, girls!

I’ll start with this tag line:  Working with Bill and Paula was…

(Diane)  … an absolute pleasure.   I loved how Paula gave such easy direction and with so much encouragement.  It was so wonderful to be  a part of their journey and before long I began to feel like I was right at home.  I actually felt like I was home away from home.  It felt so good to know that I was needed and appreciated for doing just what came natural.  I can honestly say I always looked forward to going to work.  I remember having feel good moments – like sniffing the coffee beans before starting the coffee in the morning or having special moments sharing from the heart with Paula.

Oh – just a moment – Adrienne’s accusing me of writing a novel.  I’m sitting in a room with 9 other women trying to be serious  and they’re all sharing and I don’t want to miss out on the chit-chat, so this is taking time.  Oh, now there cheering and talking about who driving home!

Okay, back to where I was – I loved working here and the memories I will keep forever.   Bill and Paula’s team of girls is another reason to enjoy work.  I loved sharing and connecting each weekend.   Okay that’s it for me for now.  I’m passing the post to Adrienne.

(Adrienne) This is going to be short and sweet. I really enjoyed working  for Paula and Bill. I really enjoyed the most was having  breakfast  with them and  and talking about the old times .  I sit  here with my fellow angels and talk about  all kinds of stuff.  I finally had a glass of wine for Paula and Bill so cheers  to you guys !

(Ana) No Brandy??? Well Adrienne I must say Bill will always say ” you didn’t make the funny face yet ” as I always sniff to the bottle before pouring it in his glass.  I can still remember my first night working here Paula was offering a lot of food and she even said, “Ana can I make your bed here?”, but of course I didn’t let her do that (grin). I have many more stories to tell but to cut it short to give the girls more space for their lines. I could say I’m so lucky and thankful to be a part of this family and to work with them  Bill who was not only a good employer but a father to me because I stayed with Paula for two (2) weeks but I can say she’s a good mom…I missed you papaold…ttfn

(Heather) Well here it is Thursday night and I have missed my crib game with my Bill . I looked forward to every Thurs. Paula would laugh when we played and sometimes we would say, “there is a skunk coming in the door.”! After seven years I miss you and our games and walks outside around 2 blocks, not ready to get up yet give me half hour more(lol). So you are not gone you are just away. TTFN

(Tessie Frugal) To all the girls that Papa Bill and loving  Mom Paula have…We are all here, talking all the good things happen in our lives.  The most wonderful and great LOVE and help to us most especially after working with their family  for more than 3 years. I can’t say anything today but to say, my family and I say that we love you so much and thank you very very much.You are always in my heart.Tuck Tuck now. To Stacey you are our angel to help us always Thank you very much.

(Dorothee -the youngest)  I’ve only stayed here for a while but it seems like I’ve been here for a very long time… I’m very fortunate to have known Father Bill (what i called him)(grin), I’ve never met Paula but I’ve  heard a lot about her (kind-hearted and pretty). For Father Bill, you will always be in my heart and THANK YOU for being a father like to me, worrying during weekends (shopping too much) BOLOGNA… And THANK YOU BEAUTIFUL STACEY for making it all REAL….. TTFN Bill…

Sante

It’s almost like they are still here.

I pour Dad a glass of wine and I pour a glass of wine for myself.

I walk to his chair – his glass I place on the silver platter that Mom had put beside his chair to keep the table from being affected by the sweat from the glass.  I sit in Mom’s green chair beside his pink chair .. and I toast his glass.  “Sante, Dad”, I say.  To your health.

He doesn’t cheer back except in my mind.  And then it hits me.  He is gone.

I wander down the hall to his bedroom where so often I helped Dad to get out of bed.  The walker is still there beside his slippers.  The slippers are worn on the bottom in the spots where he tread more heavily.  I see him sitting there – waiting for the blood to even out in his body so that he won’t fall when he stands.   The brakes are “on” on his walker while he pulls himself to his feet.

“Ahh”, he says. And closes his eyes.  And then he’s ready.  Off we go down the hall to the “pink” chair this time to have his glass of wine with me.

We move slowly.  Mom used to hold his belt buckle as though her tiny frame could prevent him from falling.  I think it was more security for her than him quite frankly.

Yes – the pink chair will do just fine.  We wheel up beside the chair, elevate the chair to make it easier for him to sit.  We move the walker close so that Dad and I can “dance” while he shifts his weight and shuffles his feet to align himself to sit.  Down he goes.  BRRRRRR goes the electric chair back down to a more comfortable angle.

“Wine, Bill?”  asks Ana or Dorothee.

“Are you going to join me, Stacey?”  asks Dad.

“Sure, Dad.” I answer.

The wine is served.  “Thanks, Dorothee.”

“Sante” we cheer each other.  A clink of the glasses and we take our first sip.  The first sip is always the sweetest.  We are together – united by our wish for “good health”.

“Sante” I wish Dad today.  The picture frame rolls photo after photo and Anne Murray plays on.

An image of my oldest son, Ben, appears.  He is with “Poppa”.  Poppa is grinning with pride for his graduate – he is tired.

… and we are back to reality.  Time to pay bills – for Bill.

The pink chair sits – ready for Dad.  Always ready for me.  Glass of wine still full.

TTFN

 

 

June 27, 2012

I thought that November 12, 2010 was a day that would never be replicated in terms of its importance. 

I was mistaken. 

November 12, 2010 was the reason that June 27, 2012 was so incredible. It is as though the first date prepared me for the second date – just like Mom prepared me for Dad. 

I’m not sure whose voice I should be using now.  If I write in first person, I would be writing as “Stacey”.  If I write as the ghost – I am writing as “Bill”.  My confusion comes in that I feel I am both.  And I feel that I am also “Paula”.  Now, these two people – Bill and Paula – Mom and Dad are the voices that I feel rather than hear.  

Tonight, Dad (Bill) passed away.  But, my God, he still has a voice. And what is weird is that now, more than ever, I feel that Mom has been given an equal voice.

It was magnificent.  I have never experienced anything like it.  Dad opened his eyes ever so slightly, and then they closed.  I’m sure it was a reaction of sorts – but it was enough to alert my brother and I that Dad was leaving us.  All I remember was holding his hand and reassuring him that we were there.  It was beautiful.  He was surrounded by care-givers that were “off -duty” but had come to see him anyhow.  Whatever possessed them to come at that time, God only knows – but it was Dad’s time. Not more than 5 minutes after they arrived, along with the nurse who had only come to “monitor” Dad’s progress, did Dad pass away.  There was no grand breath.  There was no grand inhale.  It was quiet.  Yes.  It was grace.  Dad had dignity.  I promised I’d keep him home and give him Dad a different journey than Mom – and I did. I kept my promise.  Mom was there today.  I felt her.  She is with me right now writing this blog. I’ve never edited a post so much as I am now.  My words are her words – they are “his” words too.  

I cannot begin to express my gratitude to everyone who supported our family through this final journey whether it was in person, in spirit, in words, or in faith.  

When one dies at home, and in peace, there are no words that can express the soul.  

I’m sure Dad would say, “Nothing”.  I don’t think words in His world are needed – what a majestic feeling it must be to leave the “surley bonds of earth”.  Dad would want to express his appreciation for a death well lived.  Today was a testimony, not only to a man whose life was well lived, but to everyone who was connected to Dad to make his life possible.  It takes a community to raise a child and to close the chapter in one person’s story.  

I don’t know how to tell you how I struggle for my voice tonight.  I can’t find the words.  I can’t find the direction.  But, yet, I am at peace.  Dad is at peace – and I think at long last, Mom is too.  We have harmony.  

Please allow me this attempt to speak my father’s voice. 

“I am.  I am no longer tired.  I no longer need assistance to walk, to eat, to read the newspaper.  Don’t get me wrong – I loved the help from my dancing nannies and my other blessed caregivers… but I am now free to soar on my own.  I am independent – just as I was when I was young and vital.  But now, I am wiser – to know that no one soars alone.  There are those who give as there are those who accept.  The trick is knowing when and which is your time and calling.  I have accepted care for so long now – I am ready to give.  But in the next world, I cannot give as you would expect.  I don’t know what to do yet – Paula will tell me.  And in turn, I’ll teach my children.  This, is our legacy.” 

It is late, and although my mind is spinning, I know I’ll sleep – Dad no longer yearns for Mom.  

Where are they?  I don’t really know – but what I do know is that I am able to say that I was a good daughter  – or in Dad’s words, I am now, “Our beautiful daughter.  Thank-you so much for everything that you have done.”  And that’s all I would ever want.  

Cheers, Dad – on this night – and TTFN! 

 

A Father’s WIsh

I still remember my own Dad.  It has been over 20 years, maybe closer to 30, since he passed away.  Funny how one never really becomes accustomed to being fatherless.

My Dad, George Hunt Duff, was a hard worker – but in his old age he worked hard at play too.  He was a WWI vet, farmer, owner of the New Lowell General Store, postmaster, and general good guy. He would sing, “Oh froggy went a courtin’ he did ride, uh-huh…” to Stacey when she was young and she’d ask him to sing it over and over again.  One year, we got Stacey a tape recorder for her birthday (imagine -at one time that was considered to be quite the technology!) and she recorded my Dad telling jokes, singing songs, and recounting stories.  I think she might still have that tape.  Funny to hear his voice so many years after he has been gone.

My Dad was an entertainer and a traveler.  How loved to go to England when he was in his late 70s. I used to think that was so old!  He’d explore and visit friends – all on his own.

My Dad gave me a good life – we didn’t always get along as most kids will fight with their parents and I was no exception.  I was blessed, however, to have had the opportunity to get to know my dad as an adult.  Our relationship became one of mutual respect.  He was proud of me for where I had arrived in life and I was proud of him – well, simply because he was my Dad.  My mom passed away much earlier on – we never knew what happened to her but she just lost the ability to walk.  My Dad did everything he could for her – but medicine was so much different then.

He lived in his own home in New Lowell and shared it with a family who he knew were struggling at that time.  He was very generous.  I guess it was more of a symbiotic relationship as that family – who needed his generosity and kindness were also giving my Dad the gift of his own independence and ability to live (and die) in his own home.

The matriarch of that family called me one morning to say that she had been by my Dad’s side when he experienced a heart-attack and died.  He knew he was going and just asked her to stay with him.  What a way to go – in your own home, surrounded by friends, and quickly.

Yes, I still think of my Dad and how he taught me the value of family and to always look at the bright side of life.

So – 30 years later, Dad, I wish you, “Happy Father’s Day”!

May all of you who read this blog – have the opportunity to meet your parents as adults.

Cheers!

My 91st Flight

To date, I have logged over 2 000 flying hours.  Only two of those hours have been logged in my 92nd year!

Yesterday’s flight was spectacular.  There is nothing like being in a plane.  My son’s birthday gift to me was this flight.

Around 1:30 we (my son, and the Dancing Nannies who are now, I guess the Flying Nannies too!) headed out to Oro Airport.  By 2:00 we were in the air – well, the Nannies stayed on the ground. The weather was perfect – blue sky with only a hint of cloud to make things more interesting.

We flew over Barrie and also over the old homestead in New Lowell and Craighurst.  It is amazing how being so far above the scene one can see so much more.  It is remarkable how quickly the trees overtake space when left to do their own thing.

What a thrill.

Oh, and I flew the plane for a while! 

High Flight Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. Up, up the long delirious, burning blue, I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or even eagle flew – And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod The high untresspassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee No 412 squadron, RCAF Killed 11 December 1941