fond farewell to a friend

Two weeks ago today I said goodbye to my beautiful eskie boy Sam.

Sammy

I had no idea how things would go but I knew that I wanted to be strong for him. I wanted him to have a peaceful, dignified death and I didn't want him to be frightened or upset by what was going on.  Looking back, I think that I was able to give him that.

As you know, Sam had been diagnosed with heart failure caused by a mass which was growing in his heart.  The presence of the mass was making the good part of his heart work double time, causing it to be enlarged and fluid was collecting around his heart and in his lungs. 

The little cough he had over the summer was getting worse.  On the advice of his vet, I had doubled his medication after a particularly bad night but I knew that the end was getting near.  I didn't want him to die alone, on the floor in the house somewhere, having coughed himself to death in the night.  I wanted to be there with him, holding him tight and letting him know how much he was loved. That is exactly what happened.

On his last day, he was pretty weak.  The coughing spells were getting deeper and closer together.  There were a few times when I thought that he may not make it to his 6 p.m. appointment at the vet. He made it though.  He had a whole breast of boneless chicken for his dinner that evening and, for the first time in weeks, no meds.  He wouldn't be needing them.

He was his goofy self on the drive up there.  My friend John drove as I wasn't entirely sure of how I'd be.  On the way to the vet, it was dark and a little rainy and I remember the night Sammy came home with us for the first time.  It was a dark and stormy Thursday evening too, just before Easter so we had a four day weekend to spend with our new doggy.  Seemed like a million years ago and 5 minutes had passed at the same time.

When we got to the vet, which is in a rural area, we had a little walk around so he could sniff everywhere (as Tim, another eskie guardian says, "reading the pee-mail"), leave a pee (and a poop) and do a little post-poop happy dance in the wet grass.  There were a couple of women in the waiting area when we entered the vets.  Sam was a good looking boy and there aren't very many eskies around here so as I was used to seeing, they were all over him.  He went right up to them to say hello and I told them he wouldn't be going home tonight.  Their faces just fell and I explained that he had cancer in his heart and it was time. 

I had talked to the vet and read about how the process works, he'd be given sedation, fall asleep and then be administered the drug to stop his poor, sick, heart.  The whole thing would take between 10 and 20 minutes.  Sam, of course, had other plans.  He was hopping around, standing on his hind legs for hugs, smiling and kissing me.  I smiled back and kissed him and hugged him and talked to the vet.  We got him settled and Sam was given the first shot.  He took it like a champ (it can sting I was told).  He didn't fall asleep though, not at first, not after 5 minutes, not after 15 minutes...it took my boy 40 minutes to stop fighting the sedation and fall asleep.  I think part of it was he could hear John's voice out in the waiting area and he kept turning his head toward the door.  I just held him close to me and talked and sang to him, for 40 minutes. 

I sang him all of the silly songs I made up for the dogs and told him how much I loved him, about how much all of his friends loved him, how much we would all miss him... I gave him a "punch in the head" from my brother (it was a really cute thing Patrick and Sam did together)... I talked about some of the adventures we'd had, about doggy friends and cousins who he'd known (who were gone now ...Bella, Basil, Bubbles...).  I even reminded him about the incredible super-dog, Mighty Spartacus of Massachusetts... I really don't believe in an afterlife for people but I like the idea of the Rainbow Bridge for dogs so we talked a lot about that, about how he'd see all of those dogs and Mark when he got there.  I sure hope I'm totally wrong and that place exists because Sam totally deserves a place like that. 

When it was finally over, I called John in.  We both kissed Sam goodbye and left.  I felt strangely peaceful after and I realized that it was because for the first time in weeks I wasn't worried and terrified.  Sam wasn't coughing or possibly in pain or frightened and everything I was so concerned about was over now.

The house has been weirdly quiet for the last two weeks, even with three dogs still there.  Sam was a bit of a jerk about barking and I would have to haul his butt into the house at least once a day to stop him barking at another dog in the neighbourhood who was also barking (he never started it but always wanted to end it).  Gracie was really sad and out of it the first week.  The second week was a bit stranger for her and the little girls because my roommate was away so they've been home alone while I've been at work.  She's due home this afternoon and I"m sure that those dogs won't be letting her out of their sight for a while!

While making the decision and saying goodbye to my Sammy was probably the hardest thing I've never done, I know it was absolutely the right thing to do for him.  I miss him like crazy but given what we were dealing with, I wouldn't have done it any other way. 

my heart is so heavy

I cannot believe that I have to say good bye to you, forever.

Sammy and Me

You were always my boy.  Always.  Gracie was Mark's girl and you were my boy.

You've been my constant snuggler, my seeker of tummy rubs, my elbow humper.

I love your big, beautiful, bright shining brown eyes and smile as wide as the ocean.

I'll miss your biscuit cream and white fur, the softest, sweetest smelling cotton ball fluff that attaches itself to anything and everything and caused me to invest in so many lint rollers over the years.

I absolutely cannot believe that I have to say good bye to you, forever.

Cancer is stealing you away from me, it's a fucking thief.  It took Mark already, why you too?

You don't like everyone but the folks you do connect with you love fiercely.

You absolutely love me.  Or at least you love the lady who gives you food and tummy rubs.

You are my protector, my defender, my barking jerkball at times.

How much time have I spent yelling at you and dragging your butt back into the house over the years because of your out of control barking at back yard intruders, real and imagined?

You live in the moment though so you never seemed bothered when I was upset and honestly, I couldn't stay upset at you for very long.

Sam, you were the first dog who ever owned my heart and I will love you forever.

I cannot believe that tomorrow, I will have to say good bye to you forever.

I am relieved that the medication I've been giving you has given you a good quality of life the past few weeks.

I am relieved that you're happy and oblivious to what is going on around you.

I am so delighted to see you smile and run toward me for a treat or a scratch, like you have since you were a puppy and came home with us for the first time.

I watched you last night and again this morning, from inside the kitchen, as you lay outside on the deck in your favourite spot, oblivious to the cold, enjoying your view, watching over your yard like you have done for years.

I am sorry that you're not going to see the snow again buddy.  Snow is just about your favourite thing.   You love to lay in it, eat it, run through it, roll in it, you're a regular snow boy and I almost can't believe that you're missing it this year.

Oh Sammy... my special nap buddy, my monkey bum boy, my wiggly butt guy, my stealth cookie dough stealer, my buddy and my best friend.  I love you Sam.

I love you now and will forever....my beautiful, sweet, goofy, brown eyed, fluffy butt boy.

Seven Months

I have been writing online/blogging since 2000. Videos and podcasts are not things I have a lot of experience with. Except for a review of a coffee maker I did over a year ago, I have never made a video of myself. I felt the urge to do this earlier this evening after I visited the other house for the last time (the sale closes tomorrow). I wasn't sure if I would share this or not. Mark would have encouraged me to post it so I will. It wasn't planned or edited so apologies in advance for the rambling. Thanks again to all of you for your patience, support, love and understanding over these past 7 months.

Six Weeks

Mark at Finkle Shore, 2006

Six weeks.

Almost unbelievable that it’s been six weeks since Mark died.

At times, I feel as though it just happened.  At other times, it feels like he has been gone for years.

A lot has happened over these past six weeks.  Of course, I had to deal with the bureaucracy that one has to deal with after someone dies.  On top of that, I’ve been working on getting our home ready to sell.  Some days, I get up in the morning and feel pretty good and am actually able to get things done.  Of course, there are days where it takes everything I have to get up and feed the dogs.

On the day Mark died, I made myself promise to do the following things, every day, regardless of how I was feeling:

1.    Get out of bed
2.    Have a shower
3.    Get dressed
4.    Keep the dogs on their routine

I can say that except for a couple of days when I was dealing with some plumbing issues in the house and I couldn't shower (all sorted now!), I have kept my promises.  It may seem like these are simple things that a person should be able to accomplish everyday but when the weight of grief is pressing down upon you, it would be pretty easy to just pull the covers up over your head so you can stay in bed and cry.

Until Mark died, I never knew about the anxiety that can accompany grief.  It’s not something I’d really experienced before beyond the kind of anxiety you feel when you’re having a job interview or something.  During those first few weeks after Mark died, I suffered from anxiety almost constantly.  The anxiety affected my ability to sleep or eat properly.  I’d sometimes find myself hyperventilating and feeling panicked while participating in ordinary activities.   Fortunately, the anxiety is subsiding and I seem to experience it more on the weekends than I do through the week. My ability to concentrate seems to be improving too. 

Tomorrow, I’m going back to work.  I was on vacation the first two weeks of August and, on the last day of my scheduled vacation, Mark died.  My doctor (I’ve been seeing her regularly over the past six weeks) has suggested that I go back part-time for the next two weeks with the hopes that I’ll be able to return to work full-time after Thanksgiving.   With any luck, when I’m back at work, my concentration will be okay and my anxiety will keep away.

There are a lot of assholes in the world.  Some days, it feels like we are only seeing the absolute worst in people.  Over the past few years, since Mark was first diagnosed with cancer, I tried to see the other side of things when dealing with someone who may not be very nice.  I’d say to Mark that to look at him, he appeared to be very healthy.  No one would ever guess that had cancer cells fighting to set up camp inside of him.  I’d remind him that just as no one could ever guess what was going on with him, we have no idea of what other folks are walking around with either.  People are, by nature, kind.  It’s easy to not see this as we rush through our busy lives.  I’ve had an opportunity to see things move at a slower pace and have experienced real kindness and been overwhelmed by just how good people can be. I don’t think that any good is going to come from suddenly losing Mark like I did but I have seen the absolute best in people since he died.  Since he died, I’ve been on the receiving end of more compassion and kindness than I could have ever imagined.  My family, in particular my parents, and my friends have been absolutely incredible and I don’t know how I would ever survived these first six weeks without them.

I have no idea what the next six weeks are going to bring.  I plan to face them the same way I did the first six weeks, moment by moment, day by day.

Mark Leslie Collis

Mark's obituary was published in the Toronto Star and the Kingston Whig-Standard today.

COLLIS, Mark Leslie (Chef Mark) - of Kingston, age 63, died suddenly on Sunday, August 16, 2015 at Kingston General Hospital. Mark will be forever loved and missed by his wife Peggy Shanks and his beloved dogs Gracie and Sam. Mark will also be remembered affectionately by Michael and Theresa Shanks (Amherstview), Patrick Shanks and Cynthia Deveau (Ottawa), his uncle Nate Collis (Toronto), members of the Collis, Shanks and Forbes families and a large network of friends. Mark is predeceased by his wonderful parents, Joe and Ida Collis, his brother Barry Collis and his ex-wife, Mimi Braidberg. He was an exceptionally talented, classically trained French Chef working in Toronto for many years, creating delicious meals at Fenton's, Vittorio's, Zaidy's, Carlevale's and Bemelman's Restaurants. Mark opened his own restaurant in Toronto, La Bionda which was well known in the late 1980's for its open kitchen and creative cuisine. In the 1990's Mark was able to combine his passion for food with his love for music through his catering company "Touring Kitchens." Mark cooked for many of his musical heroes including Roger Waters, Dr. John, The Neville Brothers and Leon Redbone (to name just a few). By the end of the 1990's he had met Peggy, moved to Kingston and opened Ida's Kitchen. In recent years, after retiring from cooking, Mark worked as a cab driver. A celebration of Mark's life is being planned for the fall. Mark's family would like to thank all of the medical professionals who provided such excellent care to him during his illness. In particular, thank you to Dr Tu Van Banh, Dr Hugh MacDonald, Dr Sulaiman Nanji, Dr James Biagi and all of the staff at the Cancer Centre of Southeastern Ontario. As an expression of sympathy, in lieu of flowers, memorial donations to the Kingston Humane Society (http://kingstonhumanesociety.ca/) or CFRC Radio Queen's University (http://givetoqueens.ca/cfrc) would be appreciated.

Mark - Some Sad News

Hello everyone,

I know that I have spoken to some of you on the phone already but I wanted to let the rest of you know that Mark passed away earlier this morning at the Kingston General Hospital.

He'd had a pretty rough summer with his health.  It seemed to be just one thing after another.  In the last week or so, he started to exhibit symptoms that his liver was in bad shape.  We received the
results of his most recent CT scan on Wednesday, August 12.  We were told that the tumours were quite involved and they suggested that he restart chemo as soon as possible.  As soon as possible was to be tomorrow (Monday, August 17).

In his heart, I know that he really did not want to do chemo.  Because he'd been feeling so crappy though, the chemo provided a promise of relieving some his symptoms and the doctor was confident that Mark would respond well, and perhaps even be back to work by mid-September.

Last night, he was having a lot pain in his back and abdomen and was having difficulty breathing.  Mark was taken by ambulance to KGH and I know that the team there did everything that they could to help him.  They were able to get him breathing a couple of times but were not able to get his heart started again due to extremely low blood pressure.

I was told that he probably didn't experience any pain while they were treating him.  I told the doctor that Mark spent a good chunk of his life in pursuit of not feeling any pain so he would appreciate that.

I feel completely numb at the moment.  I knew that this cancer was going to kill him but I thought we'd have more time.  I also thought that when he died, it would be peaceful and I'd be there  (I stayed behind to sort the dogs out and arrived at the hospital about 40 minutes after he did - I think he died just before we arrived).

I want to thank you all so much for the love and support you've shown us during Mark's illness. He'll be cremated and a celebration of life will be held in the fall.  I'll make sure to keep you posted about that as I figure out what is happening.

While his passing his sudden and shocking, I know that Mark wouldn't want you to be sad.  Pull out your copy of Wish You Were Here or watch A Hard's Day Night and think about how much joy Mark brought to us over the years, through his sense of humour, his amazing food and his colourful stories.

I love you all, thanks again for everything.

a man of great promise

Last week, I'm not sure why, I started listening to the Style Council again.  I mean, I've never stopped listening to them but I revisited "Our Favourite Shop" again, for the first time in a long time, the entire album, on repeat.  One song in particular stuck in my head and I went back and listened to it again yesterday morning while I had my coffee, "A Man of Great Promise."  I know that Paul Weller wrote it about a friend of his who had died from a heroin overdose and it's deceivingly upbeat, for such sad subject matter.

This afternoon we learned that a friend of ours, Tom, had died suddenly last night.  Apparently, he had a massive heart attack and died quickly.  Heart disease was in the family and the same thing had happened to his dad.  I think that perhaps Tom always felt that he would meet a similar fate so he never really took care of himself.  He probably smoked too much and he definitely drank too much.  He was a really good guy at his core but his demons got in the way of a lot of his relationships over the past couple of years.

Our Sammy was one being who never got upset with Tom.  Sam is a tough cookie, he doesn't like very many people and those he does like, he needs a lot of time to warm up to.  Very rarely, he'll meet someone and instantly connect with them, I've only seen it happen with a handful of people.  Tom was one of those rare people.  Sam loved Tom, he'd follow him around the house or sit on his feet when Tom would visit.  I think that says a lot about the true character of Tom, when a difficult dog like Sam loves you.

I'm still feeling numb and shocked by the thought that I'll never see Tom again.  I know it's worse for Mark because he would bump into Tom through their work a few times a week.  We'll both miss Tom, a lot.  Like Paul Weller's friend, Tom was a man of great promise.

Jamey Rodemeyer and Troy Davis

I'm a bit pissed and really sad today. It's about two things:

1. I do not support the death penalty.

I was beyond sad this morning to awake to the news that the State of Georgia had killed Troy Davis, an innocent man. When we went to bed last night, we heard that his execution had been delayed "1 to 7 days" so we went to sleep, never thinking that they would actually kill last night. It's heartbreaking, for his family and supporters. Also, I think that the family of Mark MacPhail have not received justice because whoever murdered Officer MacPhail is still walking around free. Americans, you have to lose the death penalty. Your justice system gets it wrong too often for this to be a practical penalty - nevermind that killing people is just too messed up for words.

2. Mean people suck.

Yesterday I heard about Jamey Rodemeyer, a 14 year old boy who killed himself because of bullying. I hate that kids don't have any perspective.

Perspective comes with age and experience. I wish that kids like Jamey could understand that bullies are assholes. From what I have read about him and from what I saw in his "it gets better" video, he was a great kid with a lot to offer. I'm deeply saddened for him and his family that on Sunday, he decided that it wouldn't get any better for him. If only Jamey could have realized that his life would have been fabulous and that he was capable of all kinds of awesome things, maybe he wouldn't have killed himself.

Some days I think that overall, humans don't care enough about each other. Why is that? What's wrong with us?

end of life care

kingston general hospital
Originally uploaded by Julep67

I always carry a camera with me wherever I go. Sometimes I have my big Nikon but I always have a small point and shoot olympus with me.

Whenever Joe would be in the hospital (and during the last few years of his life he was in and out of hospital a few times a year), inevitably, we'd spend hours waiting. Waiting to find out what was wrong, waiting to find out "what's next" and, in the end, waiting with him for the end of his life to come.

I often took photos in the hospital. I felt that I needed to be stealth about it though as I felt that the nurses might not appreciate me snapping shots. In retrospect, they probably wouldn't have cared but I always did it quickly. I took several photos of Joe over the last two days he was in the hospital. I didn't want to publish them online because it felt too personal to share but I did publish photos of things and stuff from his room. This photo, I took during his first night in palliative care.

Yesterday, I had a note from the folks at WBUR about my photo: "We've used your image for an online companion to our radio documentary series, Inside Out. It is called "Quality of Death, End of Life Care in America". We're basically covering the challenges in America to proper end of life planning and a "respectful death." We loved your image and we feel it helped us convey the seriousness of the topic visually. "

I was flattered that they used it. I wish that they had contacted us before though, I think we could have contributed to the discussion, given what we went through with Joe's last time in the hospital. For something that we'll have to deal with eventually, it's certainly not something folks talk about very often.

mr smartypants

Just the other day, Mark and I were talking about Dig Circus. I was telling him about a frosh week concert that they had done here on campus, in the early 90's. The bill was Thrush Hermit (on their first tour), Dig Circus and headliners Sloan.

In the middle of Dig Circus' set, Larry, the singer, shaved his head onstage. I was helping friends with the show and I remember the guys getting bitched out by Sloan about the hair on the stage. Dig Circus was one of my favourite early 90's bands and my friend Jane and I went to see them every time they were in town and we usually had them come by the radio station so we got to know the guys a little bit.

Early this morning I learned via Facebook that a former band member, Jamie Julien had suffered two strokes and was in hospital in Melbourne, Australia. At noon today, I found out that this morning, Jamie passed away. I feel really shocked and numbed by this. He was a young guy (I think a couple of years younger than me) but he touched many lives during his short time on this planet. Apres rock stardom, he had become a fundraiser and eventually founded Public Outreach.

I hadn't seen Jamie in years but I'd never forgotten him. I still have a tape at home somewhere of one of Jane's radio shows that Jamie co-hosted with her. She hosted an 80's show called "Careless Memories" and I remember that the pair of them were yucking it up together for the whole show. He was a funny,friendly, sweet, incredibly positive person and he'll be missed by many many people. So sad, too soon.

ethan

ethan
Originally uploaded by Julep67

All day yesterday, I suppose because of the anxiety I'd felt for the few days preceeding, I was exhausted. We slept in a little bit but I wanted to get up and get going with my chores because I was heading back to work.

In the mid-afternoon, chores done, Mark and I sat down to veg out and watch "The Big Lebowski." About 10 minutes into it, I fell asleep for about 5 minutes. I forced myself to wake up though because I thought that if I took a nap, I'd be up all night. I was so wrong!! I not only didn't take the nap, I didn't sleep last night. If I did, it was in 10 minute increments. Not fun.

Saturday wasn't a whole lot of fun either. My cousin's funeral was at 11 a.m. The day turned out to be sunny and warm which was nice for those of us who had to travel from out of town. The whole thing was just really really sad. I mean, I know that funerals generally are sad but there is a difference between attending the funeral of someone who lived to a ripe old age and someone who lived too short a life. My mum told me that the funeral home guessed that 700 to 800 folks visited on Friday. The church was packed on Saturday morning. I think that there very few people in the small town who didn't either know my cousin directly, or who knew her folks or brother.

The only really "good" thing I can think that came out of it was that it became a mini-family-reunion (as these things to). My 88 year old Great-Uncle Herbie (and he's not just a great uncle, he's an awesome uncle!) was there, my cousin Dave flew in from Calgary, I saw my Great-Uncle Jack and Great-Auntie Muff... I'd not seen any of these folks since 1997 when my grandmother died.

I hate how it happens that folks only gather like that during a funeral. Fortunately, next month, this same branch of the family will gather in Quebec for a wedding. It'll be good to see folks under happy circumstances. I hear that there's even going to be a dance contest with a 5lb Hershey bar as the prize for the first place couple. Hell, if the possibility of 5lbs of chocolate can't make us all feel better, nothing will!

ready for a tummy rub

ready for a tummy rub
Originally uploaded by Julep67

Today is Sam's birthday. He's had a pretty good birthday-week I think. Even though we had to slide out of town for a few hours earlier today (to attend my cousin's wake - more about that later), he had an awesome breakfast of eggs and turkey, got a gigantic raw hide bone/toy to chew on and went to the dog park twice. Not bad huh?? Between trips out of town and visits to the groomers, he's had a pretty much fun-packed 2 weeks. I must say we have too, at least up until the past couple of days.

The death of my cousin has bothered me a lot more than I thought it would. I guess I figured that because she'd been so sick, for so long, that when the time finally came, I'd be okay (or as okay as you are in these situations). Right now though, I think I feel a little bit relieved. See, this afternoon, we went to the visitation and I saw her husband and parents for the first time since she'd died. I hadn't actually seen them in a while and it was tough. See, her parents are my godparents, her dad is my mum's oldest brother and I knew that when I saw him, I'd lose it. I promised myself I wouldn't but when I hugged him, I totally lost my composure on him. He just laughed when I said, "I promised myself I wouldn't do this" because I think everyone was saying that to him. He's been a rock through all of this stuff. I hope that in a few days, he can collapse into a puddle for a while (if that's what he needs - I think it's what I would need).

There were dozens of people there when we arrived. We stood in line for about an hour waiting to get into the room. By the time we were near the door way, we heard that they had started turning folks away and asking them to come back to the evening session. It was not something I'd ever seen before. Of course, all of her mum's siblings were there, with their children and grandchildren. I'd forgotten how large their family was. It was really overwhelming. Seeing my family though, did help and I feel like I'll be able to retain some semblance of cool tomorrow and keep things together. I'm not saying that I won't have dozens of tissues in my pockets but I think I'll be a little less rattled. I hope so anyway.

the photographers

the photographers
Originally uploaded by Julep67

This photo is a few years old, I guess it's five years old now that I think about it. I took it on Easter Weekend 2003 at my Aunt Mary's home. My Aunt Karen & Uncle Mike were home from out west and as much of the family as we could muster were gathered at the Cooks' for Easter Dinner.

The story behind this photo is that everyone was taking a photo of my mum and her siblings (from left to right, the photographers are Meg - daughter of Mary - my mum's sister; Karen - wife of Mike - my mum's younger brother; Kathy - daughter of John - my mum's older brother; and my dad). I think that this was the last photo I had taken of Kathy and it's always made me smile because when I turned around, it was like looking at some paparazzi.

Kathy died earlier today. She had fought a very long battle with a malignant brain tumor. I think it was about 10 years ago now that she was first diagnosed. Kathy, her husband Jeff and her parents (my godparents) went to hell and back with this disease but the fight is now over for them.

Kathy was my first, first cousin. She was the oldest grandchild on my mum's side, I was the second oldest. This morning, I went through old family photos of us when we were kids. Looking at the pair of us in so many photos, we couldn't have looked more different: Kathy had gorgeous, long dark hair, I had my little blond pixie cuts. Most of the time, I was in a yellow dress and Kathy was in a purple dress. In a few of the photos of the two of us, we were up in a tree in our Nana's yard and I have to say, those are my best memories of my time spent with Kathy as a child... climbing Nana's tree and colouring the bark with our Crayola 64.

Tonight I talked to my cousin Meg on the phone for a while. We were talking about Kathy's love of all things purple and we've both decided to not wear black to Kathy's funeral on Saturday. We'll both be wearing purple, for Kathy, and if anyone has a problem with that, well, they can just suck it.

bye ani

alex and ani
Originally uploaded by Julep67

so sadly, our sick little oranda, Ani, died today.

We are pretty sure she had dropsy. She puffed up like a pine cone and we just didn't get a chance to treat it in time. The puffiness eventually went down but by the time it did, she was really weak and had a tough time keeping herself upright.

Last night, she didn't eat much supper and I knew that the end was close. When Mark got home this afternoon, she'd gone. She was an awesome little fishie but she started to grow these strange bumps on her head about a year or so ago and once that happened, we noticed some changes in her behaviour. The bumps also affected her balance.

I'm just really glad that she's not suffering anymore because it was really shitty to see her so unhappy and have all of our efforts not make a difference.

beginnings and endings

This afternoon, I split from work a little early. I took a 1/2 day so I could get a few errands done.

One of the errands involved stopping off at the card shop. We're going to a wedding tomorrow and I hadn't yet picked up a card to go with the gift for the bride & groom. While I was in the store, I also had to pick up a sympathy card. I'm sending the card to a very lovely lady I know who just lost her husband of 55 years.

While I was in the store, I didn't really think about it but now, sitting here at my desk, looking at the two cards, I'm thinking about beginnings and endings. How much joy the soon-to-married couple are experiencing, contrasted against the pain that this woman must be feeling, faced with such a tremendous loss. I don't really have much more to say about it, just was thinking about it and thought I'd share.

rest in peace Mike

rest in peace Mike
Originally uploaded by Julep67

Some sad news from the BBC

Ex-EastEnders star Mike Reid dies

Former EastEnders actor Mike Reid has died at the age of 67 after suffering a suspected heart attack, his agent said.

The actor, who played Frank Butcher in the BBC soap, was living in Spain at the time of his death.

Reid became a stand-up comedian having worked as a stunt man. He went on to work in TV shows including Runaround, Doctor Who and Minder.

His agent David Hahn told the BBC his death came as a great shock as he had been in very good health.

He said: "Mike was in fine fettle. In fact only a couple of weeks ago we were having dinner over here.

"Mike that particular day went to see his consultant and had a full medical - and they gave him a clean bill of health."

Mr Hahn paid tribute to Reid, who he described as "a very, very, very, funny" man.

He said: "He would see the funny side of any situation, no matter how black it was. Even now I'm sure he's laughing."

Reid joined EastEnders in 1987, quickly turning Frank into one of the show's most popular characters.

Actress Pam St Clement, who played Frank's wife Pat for many years, said: "It has come as a terrible shock - somebody larger than life as Mike was in person and character - he seemed indestructible."

Reid made his last appearance as Frank Butcher in December 2005 when his long relationship with Pat finally came to an end.

Actor Adam Woodyat, who plays Ian Beale, said Reid "used to brighten up long filming days keeping the cast and crew laughing".

"He was a great man and our thoughts are with Shirley and his family," he said.

John Yorke, controller of BBC drama series, said Frank's popularity was down to Reid's skill as an actor.

"Mike's genius was to capture the heart of that flawed dreamer and make generations of viewers love him," he said.

"Albert Square - and British television - will be a far poorer place without him, as will the lives of those who loved and worked with him throughout his extraordinary career."

The actor and comedian rose to fame in 1973 when he landed a role as one of the original stars of ITV show The Comedians.

Russ Abbot, who appeared alongside Reid on the show, told BBC News 24 his former co-star was a natural entertainer.

"Mike was a story-teller and a great deliverer of great, great jokes," he said.

Frank Carson, a close friend who met Reid around 30 years ago, told BBC News 24 the news was "absolutely devastating".

"We have just lost our friend Bernard Manning a fortnight ago. I just can't realise... this is devastating news," he said.

Another fellow comedian, Mike McCabe, said Reid had been "a jack-the-lad, very funny with a great cockney way of putting things together".

"He was one of the lads. The blokes loved him, the women loved him. I admired the man," he said.

Children's host

Before entering the comedy scene, Reid began his career as a stunt man.

He worked on films including Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Those Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines and Spartacus.

He had also been a stunt double for Roger Moore in The Saint.

"I know it's hard to believe - Mike was a lot taller than him, and often used to laugh about it," Mr Hahn said.

In the late 1970s, Reid hosted the ITV children's TV quiz show Runaround, remembered for its incomprehensible rules and the incongruity of him as presenter.

beyond amused

table top
Originally uploaded by Julep67.

When we got home tonight, there was a message on our voice mail from Mark's brother. Given that Mark's dad is dead and buried, we never expected to hear from him again, we'd have preferred that actually. This is a man who didn't have the decency to go to his own mother's funeral. I could give you a huge long list of all of the ways that this guy has behaved in a less than honourable fashion over the years but quite frankly, it would seem like I was making it up if I did post it.

Joe was buried last year, in September. We've recently made arrangements to have the engraving on the stone finished so that we can have an unveiling. Apparently, "he can get us a deal" on the engraving. Mark was pretty pissed at the message, so was I. The last time we heard from him was via a lawyer he'd hired to find out if he was mentioned in Joe's will (he wasn't). After that, we figured that we never hear from him again.

Here is a guy who, in the five years that his father lived in Kingston, made the trip from Toronto to visit only once. At that time, he walked into Joe's room at the nursing home and made an insulting remark to him.

Anyway, I offered to call him back, explain that everything was under control and to ask him, politely, to never call here again. When I called him, I used my "work voice" on the phone, introduced myself (the two times I've been in the same room with him he refused to speak to me) and told him that we had received his message but that everything was already arranged and had been for some time.

After that, I told him that Mark would appreciate it if he didn't phone us anymore. He said, "drop dead lady" and hung up the phone. Mark was pissed. Mark took the phone, called the jerk back and, well, voices were raised, things were said and by the end of the conversation, the brother and his wife were arguing with each other on the phone. Mark bated them brilliantly. Over the years, their son has kept in touch with Mark so we've heard some pretty crazy stories about what goes on in their household. They had no idea that Mark knew some pretty sketchy stuff about them. The pair of them were both on the phone and getting really defensive. Eventually, they turned on each other. Mark held the phone up and I could hear them yelling at each other. These people are nuts.

It was really amusing. Mark's held on to a lot of anger toward his brother over the years. Last night, was able to release it because he finally saw that his brother is living in his very own, special kind of hell. I know this is schadenfreude but seriously, after the amount of pain and suffering Mark's brother inflicted on everyone in their family (not only Mark but his parents, his aunt and uncle, this guy's own children), it's comforting to know that he's miserable.

Fortunately, he's not been invited to the unveiling. He doesn't even know that we have one arranged. The best part really, about all of this is that Mark's finally been able to let go of all the venom he's felt and just laugh at the schmuck.

what folks talk about

st mary's cemetary - early morning
Originally uploaded by Julep67.

I've heard a lot of sad news just recently. News about folks who are moderately sick to gravely ill. News about folks who were killed in "accidents" which were caused by other folks who were impaired. News about lovely folks who have passed away. I've also had to be talking to folks at a monument company about headstones and cemeteries. Not a lot of fun, any of it.

Yesterday at work, we were talking about the things we were afraid of. A couple of my colleagues said that they were afraid of death. I don't really fear death, I mean, I'm not looking forward to not existing anymore but it's not something I spend a lot of time thinking about, my own death.

Perhaps watching all of those episodes of "Six Feet Under" helped me to develop a more healthy perspective on death and dying. Watching Joe die last year helped too. I feel like, when it's time, it's time. I'm just happy to know that when it's finally over, I won't know that it's happened. I guess the very best that anyone can hope for is that they don't have a long, painful, drawn-out illness during their final few whatevers (days, months, years).




Yeah, rather than dwell too much on thoughts about my own demise, I think I'd rather distract myself with musings about Sanjaya's hair last night on 'da idol. You just can't help but love that boy!!

why can't I look away??

every once in a while, after work, Mark or I will be flicking around on the television and we'll pause for a few minutes on the Y&R. we've both watched it off and on over the past 20-some-odd years and it only really takes a few moments, a couple of times a year, to catch up. it's far-fetched and a good giggle and the acting is hilarious (if you can call it acting)...

...over the weekend, I kept flicking into the ongoing saga of the death of Anna Nicole Smith. plots keep developing in that soap opera much faster than I ever thought they could. on Friday afternoon at work, we all had a little giggle about the Prince Frederick as baby daddy twist. Today, when I learned about the frozen sperm angle, I laughed out loud. It all seems like some over-blown soap opera. Cartoon-ish really. because of the surreal-ness of it all, I just can't stop following the story...the interviews with casino staff, looking at photos of her fridge contents. It's all so bizarre and soapy. I know that on some level it's wrong to be entertained by all of this.

I know that a woman has died here and that's sad, although not entirely unexpected. I have a feeling that Anna would have liked how much attention this story was getting if she actually knew what was going on so maybe that's why I'm okay with my morbid fascination in this big mess!

is anyone really shocked?

...to hear that Anna Nicole Smith is dead?

All joking aside, I was more surprised, earlier ths week, when I heard that Frankie Laine had passed away.

Luckily, the tabloids still have handy and eager future train wrecks like Britney, Paris and Lindsay to help keep sales up.