Bill

     A long time ago when our youngest was still in elementary school, the girls started to go to a martial arts class along with their dad. It was held in a nearby school and they all really enjoyed it. They didn’t stick with it as it turns out, kids being kids and my husband’s work schedule being what it was. But a few lasting friendships were made and one in particular has lasted, until this very day. 

     Bill is a lovely man: soft-spoken, gentle, smart, with a marvelous sense of humour and a quiet and wise way about him. He was great with everyone at the karate class but I especially like how he was with our girls. Bill liked to make them laugh but it is the way he spoke and still speaks to everyone that so impresses me: respectfully, kindly and with natural empathy. When you speak to Bill you know that he is listening; his genuine interest is thoughtful and profound. He has always regularly called us and even brought lunch for all of us to our new home. He is a gentleman, in every sense of the word.

     Bill showed us the true depth of our friendship when he helped us move. It was a hellishly long and mucky experience; days and days, no weeks and weeks of slogging through ridiculously endless piles of building materials, farm equipment and whatnot. He showed up every day (along with a few other amazing relatives and friends) with his own dolly, gloves, weight belt and even his own lunch: cheerful, smiling and loyal to the end. He never complained or said a negative word. We didn't deserve him. He was my hero.

     Now we are losing Bill to cancer, an insidious, excruciating and odious end to a life that should have lasted at least twenty more years, contentedly and with a peaceful finish. I am angry and sad and bereft. I am not naive enough to believe that life is fair— it isn’t, but the wrongness of this looming death, too soon and too terrible, leaves me teary-eyed and breathless. We all love Bill. It is our privilege to know him and count him as a friend. 'Til we meet again old friend! 

Anxiety

     Our younger daughter finally got her driver's license after four years of trying. Her anxiety in the past was such that she couldn’t get through a driving test without vomiting, certainly all the way there and sometimes even all the way home. It made taking a test very difficult. Today she was amazing, keeping a perspective on the day and preparing for it in every way that she could. And although it was nerve wracking, she found a way to get through the experience in a positive way. She was willing to see the day as a victory, whether she got her license or not, simply because she was able to keep her nausea at bay. Her diligence paid off and she is now a new driver; independent, responsible and hopefully still managing her anxiety.

     I walked my stress away by prayerfully walking laps around the ICBC licensing building, much to the amusement of some of the people standing in line. These folks were trying to keep cool by staying in the shade and moving around as little as possible while I was doing something completely opposite: tromping around on the sidewalk and in the sun-drenched dust, around and around and around. I got about six thousand steps in the process and found it a rewarding way to spend the half hour or so of waiting. 

     Anyway the afternoon was a triumph for our daughter; her anxiety was managed and the end result was a long overdue ticket to independence. As we made our way home, making plans for a celebratory meal, I couldn't help but notice once again, what a difference a day makes....Thanks Ashu!