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!