Lines to a Gentleman

The wide world is all before us
But a world without a friend

– Robert Burns

I would be remiss in getting this blog back up and running, without first mentioning an event that transpired this week, specifically the sudden passing of a dear friend of the family.

The death of someone you know, even peripherally, is always a shock. The death of someone who was for me, so palpably alive, is still somewhat unbelievable to me.

Ian was not someone I knew very well or saw often, but when I did, it was always a pleasure. He had an incredible, almost insatiable energy about him. An engaged and engaging man, he was always on to the next great adventure, be it a new hobby or craft, the latest war tale from the political trenches, a great book or film he wanted to tell you about, or the most recent raccoon happening in the sanctuary he and his wife M. had at their home.

One of my most visceral and wonderful memories is the Thanksgiving Day I spent with Ian, his wife and their family along with our other good friends The Dumbarton Mob. We went up north to take in the fall colours, visit the antique shops in town and had a good long hike in the crisp autumn air before sitting down to dinner. It was the pinnacle of what a Thanksgiving should be: a good time, with good food and great friends, a chance to see your blessings all around you as you counted them. That day is a little glimmer of joy that I have carried around inside me ever since.

I think ultimately that is what life is about. How many little joys can you give to others to take with them? How many are you wise enough to accept? Ian was someone who I sense understood this on an intuitive level. He also understood the importance of living a life that was authentic for him and on his own terms, that resonated in his heart. In short, by cherishing his own unique humanity, he also cherished it in others.

As I get older, the death of those I care about becomes more relevant, an event running and rushing ever faster into the realm of possibility. The child in me wants all the “Thanksgivings” to go on forever. My spirit knows this is not the point. Instead, we learn to see these moments clearly and value them as they happen. Our lives turn into a constant ebbing of darkness and light, unbearable loss and miraculous second chances, always flowing, always a giving and a taking.

Life comes and goes on this planet. Some of our fellow travelers, like Ian, try in their own way to make it a better place. Others, as John Prine so aptly put it, “live and breathe to turn the ol’ screw.” There are “great” lives, but ultimately isn’t that a relative term? What’s important-- what counts when we all meet our ends, is that somebody somewhere pauses a moment, perhaps raises a drink and thinks “I’m glad I encountered that person. My life was enriched for having known them.”

So on that note Ian, here’s to you.