Wednesday, March 9, 2022
All my troubles seemed so far away.
Yesterday was a poignant anniversary date for me – it was eight years since my dad died. Each year I wonder if I’ll remember, what I’ll remember and whether I’ll remember the date on my own without that calendar reminder. And every year, I remember. Nobody else remembers or particularly cares, and that’s the way life works – just as I don’t know the significant dates in anyone else’s life.
Here’s da ting eh …
Anytime I want, I can remember him. A little or a lot – whatever I need on a particular day. But on the anniversary of his death, each year, I play over in my mind the events of his last Friday and Saturday of life – his gentle departure, unconscious but snoring till nearly the end. And all the memories from life, the points that immediately come to mind from childhood, and many from much later, working together, laughing together, putting siding on my house and shingles on its roof together, and riding in cars. He taught me far more by his example of how to live a peaceful and humble life than he ever did with words or instruction. He taught me that hard work is worthy. It doesn’t always pay off, but it never leaves you disappointed for having not tried.
Hubert Kolke – July 21, 1921-March 8, 2014 – there was no service, no funeral, no memorial, his body, donated as he wished to the University of Calgary Medical School. They say their use of parts for teaching last 6-7 years, so he’s likely all gone now. Gone, but never forgotten.