Finally

Well, here I am, finally back to writing this blog.  It's been a while since I've been on.  Over the months, I've considered writing a story about this or that but when it came to sitting down at the computer and actually composing one, I lacked the motivation.  Often, I would wonder just what would give me enough impetus to finally overcome my apathy.  Was it going to be the fantastic fall colours, the best I've seen in years, probably thanks to the severe drought we had this summer?  Nope.  Or how about my upcoming adventures in beekeeping and how I got started with that venture?  Almost but not quite.  The closest I came to starting up again was when I first went out on my newest passion, geocaching.  But then I came down with the flu and spent a week filling kleenexes, swallowing ibuprofen and sucking on throat lozenges.  Finally today, I have the urge to write.

What, you might ask, is the cause of this?

Well, I was moving firewood into my wood shed earlier today.  I had managed to move about half of what I needed to move before the never ending rain of October started.  Now, we've finally got some sunshine and dry days and this wood really needs to be moved before the snow flies.

Anyway, while taking a break from moving wood, I found myself standing outside trying to train the blue jays to not be such pigs.  They really are clever creatures and should be trainable but a full feeder is apparently too much temptation.  After spending some time at this very important (?) activity, the near freezing temperature and a bit of common sense got the better of me so I went inside to find a voice mail message on my phone.

And here we finally come to my motivation.

The voice mail message was from the daughter of a friend of mine.  I haven't seen Marion in years (and here you might notice that I am straying away from my personal guideline of naming no names) but we were good friends in our days back in Ottawa.  When the daughter introduced herself, my first thought was, "oh no, Marion has died".

It wasn't Marion but her husband Ken.  Ken has had Alzheimer's for a number of years.  He's been living in an extended care facility for a while now.  And this past weekend, Ken died.

I must admit, I feel that I never really got to know Ken too well.  My memories of him consist mostly of this: he was a quiet and kind man who, every four weeks for about five years, would, without complaint, retreat to the basement to watch TV while we four gals would play bridge.  He was the only husband to be found in our merry band of bridge players and, really, the only sign of him when we were in his house was the faint smell of cigarette smoke wafting up the stairs.

Like everyone who has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, Ken deserved a better end to his life.

And so, to Marion and her children and grandchildren, I wish for you fond memories of your husband, father and grandfather.  Try to remember him as he was and not as what he became.

Stay healthy!