I own a bike! There is officially nothing standing in the way of me doing this ride, except perhaps a car and the pavement I will hit if I have trouble clipping in/out of the pedals on the road (don't worry mommy, I will practice practice practice on grass!).
Anyone who knows me knows that I name everything. My car, my stuffed animals/produce, my laptop - they all have names. Now I have the difficult task of naming my beautiful, beautiful bicycle, pictured here:
As soon I as I saw my bike, I fell in love. So light, so sleek. And of course, I had to pick it up on the coldest day of the year. Where are you, warm weather? Moderately warm weather? I'll settle for that, too. I'm ready for spring and weekends spent cycling for hours.
Since me and the trusty bike will be spending lots of time together, it's only fitting that he/she/it has a suitable name. If anyone is still reading this blog, I would like some feedback. The three finalists are:
Henry: No particular reason for this name, I just like it. I like it even more because my bike has a bit of pink on it, and thus Henry wouldn't have to conform to gender stereotypes.
Florence: I've been listening to a lot of Florence + the Machine lately and something about her soaring vocals really translate well to this whole journey.
Sophia Loren: the bike looks like she could be a glamorous Italian diva, although I'm pretty sure that no part of her was actually built in Italy. My only case against this is that is about three syllables too long for me to reliably use.
An elderly couple who we had never seen before came to dad's viewing. Turns out, the woman was Evelyn's (in photo, dad's mom) best friend who had lost contact with her after granny and grandaddy moved back to Brantford. Letters were returned, no forwarding addresses in those times. They never regained contact, as granny passed away in the early '90s of breast cancer.
Dad's parents were the first to welcome this couple to Toronto - newcomers to Canada from Hungary. This is not new news: every story I have heard about my grandparents point to the fact that they were the nicest, friendliest of people. Dad took after them well.
The couple looked to be in their late eighties, and they are at a point in their lives where they have taken to reading the obituraries section of the newspaper. Lo and behold, on December 30th, the woman pointed to dad's death notice and exclaimed, "I've found Evelyn!" She also found this picture of dad and his mother. This is one picture to treasure always. Dad looked exactly like his mom. And look! I have their nose.
At the sight of dad in his casket, the old man broke down into tears. Imagine seeing the son of your best friends pass away too soon, seeing a boy you used to babysit. It was truly heartbreaking. Still, I believe that this is one of dad's first miracles: giving this couple answers to what became of their friends, and allowing them to say goodbye to the whole family. I look forward to many more miracles.
Tonight I was rifling through dad's folders on the computer. Under 'Pictures' I found four photos of Wallace as a puppy. Under 'Documents' I found various Rotary club files and one called "Living with Lymphoma." It is a four page account of what he has been through. Lists and lists of tests, scores of medications. It was a real reminder that dad didn't suffer for just two months - he's been suffering for years. It's really amazing how much positivity he brought to each day despite all his troubles. I wish I could've told him how brave he was.
This one is short and sweet: helllloooooo $9755.00! This week has seen Andrew surpass the minimum fundraising goal of $2500, and we thank everyone who contributed. If anyone would still like to donate, look to the right to our links. We will gladly accept!
It's official: our charity concert in Dad's memory will be Thursday April 22 2010 at the El Mocambo. Lineup TBA, as well as other event-related details, which have yet to be finalized. The team's hope is that everyone will be done with exams and be ready to celebrate while also contributing to a great cause.
After my usual 8am spinning class, I had my locks chopped off - a move I've wanted to do for a long time but never had the courage to actually go through with, especially because of all you short-hair-naysayers! Luckily for me, Scott at The Cabinet Salon gave me exactly what I wanted: a very short, textured crop. This may sound a little Felicity-esque (am I dated for referencing Felicity?), but with everything that's happened lately, even hair feels heavy. I needed to let it go. What's more, I needed a change and sure, starting with hair may seem trivial, but that's exactly what it is: a start. From now on, I'm going to make a concentrated effort to do things that are good for me and make me happy. Life is too short to lament over the things that could have been. Dad was always super supportive, and I know he's standing alongside me on my journey: one baby step at a time.
I have a hard time remembering what dad looked like before he was sick. I have a hard time remembering dad outside of his palliative days period. While washing the dishes just now, I recalled how cancer left him a skeleton of his former self. He was really reduced to nothing. Even so, cancer can't take away this fun daddy fact from my memories: dad had the prettiest blue eyes. On the other hand, dad also had the worst eyes. He was so blind without his glasses that he still had to wear them in the shower. In the hospice, his glasses were often at his bedside, and there I'd have it: an unobstructed view directly into those pale blue eyes. Like a sunny spring day's sky. No clouds, no thick smog, just right.
As of today, the team has raised $7180.00, with Andrew seeing a surge in donations to put him 35% of the way towards his fundraising goal! If you visit our team page, you will notice that we are 74% done. However, please take note that though Stace and I have already exceeded our fundraising minimums, the team percentage is not reflective of this. Consequently, the team is probably somewhere around 65% done. Keep this in mind and keep the donations coming to Matt and Andrew!
Yesterday, me, Matt, and our friend Alyssa (event coordinator extraordinaire) had a meeting with the El Mocombo to talk about a charity concert. The date is unconfirmed, but I will say that everyone should keep their Thursdays in April clear. Coincidentally, Dad's birthday is April 24th. It's funny how things work out. I think he's really looking out for all of us and will make sure this event is a success.
Having such a mild weekend, Wallace and I took advantage of the weather and walked to visit dad at the cemetery yesterday. Wallace started climbing up the mound of dirt covering his grave and it reminded me of all the times Wallace would climb up on dad's head to lick him all over his nose, eyes, and ears (wet Wallies). After telling Wallace to stop poking around, I told dad about the latest news and how everyone misses him. I could hear all of his responses inside my head.
Hopefully you find these pictures as funny as we do. In my dad's defense, it was a very sunny day, and most likely, it would be difficult for anyone to see the camera display screen. I have to hand it to him though, when he was ready to press the shutter button, he was ready (even if we were not)! Note the unimpressed expressions resulting from a combination of "Not another picture", "We're not ready!", "It's too hot!", and "Man, that ceremony was so long and boring" (Sorry Dane).
Teasing aside, although he had a difficult time figuring out how to work new technology (but don't we all), and although his illness may have provided him with an additional challenge in completing what many would consider to be a simple task, he never gave up his willingness to learn. I can still remember him saying "No, let me try again! I'll get it! I can do it". He was positive, in more ways than one. And you know what? Eventually he did.
Dad loved taking pictures. At every special occasion, he would pull out the camera and have to document every moment. At Christmas, he would take a picture of everyone with a present before it was opened, a picture of them with the card, and at least three pictures of them with the opened gift. No one else wanted to take any pictures, so he used to joke that when he passed away, it would look like he wasn't a part of the family because there wouldn't be any evidence. Sadly, it's kind of true. Since his passing, Stace and I have had a blast looking through old pictures of him from his childhood. Over the next few months, I will post some of my favourites. For now, another anecdote.
Though dad liked to take pictures, he wasn't very good at it, ESPECIALLY when the newfangled digital camera came out. For some reason, he couldn't grasp the fact that he could look at the screen instead of the viewfinder. Suddenly, a simple picture turned into minutes of posing, groaning, and constant reminders to look at the screen! The screen! Not the viewfinder! Post-cancer, this little issue was further exacerbated. With his coordination problems, his hands were shaky when holding the camera out in front of him. This past June, I graduated from university and Stace and dad were there to witness the event. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and all Stace and I wanted were a couple of nice shots in front of UC (*cough* new facebook profile pics *cough*). What resulted was the following series of hilarious images:
These are the best photos I've ever seen. Thanks, dad!
Yesterday it hit me that dad is really gone. I think for a while I was just trying my best to keep busy. I went back to work for a couple days and it was odd to find that while time had stopped on my end, it kept going for everyone else. With all the preparations for dad's visitation and service and then the hectic aftermath, I don't think I fully realized the finality of all the events. Needless to say, I do now. My body feels both heavy and hollow. I really miss him.
Last week, Dana and I decided against posting the weekly roundup to allow some time for our readers to see and digest the post and media files pertaining to dad's service.
As of yesterday, our team had raised $6450.00, and we were 86% of the way towards reaching our fundraising goal of $7500.00. Our team roster has since expanded with the addition of my boyfriend Andrew, increasing our fundraising goal to $10,500.00.
That said, our team has now raised $6800.00, and we are now 65% of the way towards reaching our fundraising goal. Please remember that although we are riding as a team, each rider must individually reach $2500.00 in order to participate in this ride. Although Dana and I have each exceeded this minimum and are more than happy to accept additional donations, please keep in mind our teammates Andrew and Matt if you still wish to make a donation. They have been nothing but extremely supportive over our journey, and their registration in the ride just goes to show how much conquering cancer means to them, and also, how far they are willing to go to support us (i.e., to Niagara Falls and the depths of begging for money).
The team will be back to post some more of our thoughts in the near future. Thanks for reading!
Feedback was unanimous: Dad had the most beautiful service. For the most part, it didn't feel like a funeral; rather, it was a celebration, which is exactly what he wanted. The night that he passed, Scott and I frantically started contacting our friends to arrange music. Dad was always a big lover of music, and CDs were not going to cut it. The result was a stirring tribute to my dad, with more than a few people saying, "I want this at my service." Everything was perfect. Yes, there were tears, but there was also a lot of laughter and many smiles as we joined together to recognize dad as a special, special guy.
When mom and dad first started talking about arrangements, he said that he didn't want a traditional Catholic service and named four people who he wanted to speak - Stacey and I were two of them. And it had to be "both - not one or the other." Speaking was probably one of the simultaneously hardest and easiest things I've ever had to do. Hard because it was emotional and easy because it's not difficult to think of the many reasons that made my dad wonderful.
Thank you to everyone who came out to the service, internment, and reception. My mom is a little peeved because she doesn't think the funeral director announced the reception loud enough for people in the back to hear, but there's nothing that can be done about that now. I would also like to thank my friends once more for being a part of an unforgettable day and providing music for dad to dance to up in heaven. Here, for your listening pleasure, are the pieces that were performed, along with our tributes to dad:
1.
Scott kicked things off by playing the second movement from Böhme's trumpet concerto in f minor. He was accompanied by my friend and old (not in age, but we go way back) piano teacher, Rumiko.
2.
Cynthia followed immediately after Scott, singing Ave Maria beautifully and making many cry in the process. Again, she was accompanied by Rumiko.
3.
This is me.
4.
This is Stacey.
5.
After all the tributes were delivered, my friend Catlin sang You'll Never Walk Alone, supported by my former TABB mates, Robin (drums), Jesse (keys), and Andrew (bass). It was an odd feeling listening to an emotionally charged number and not bursting into applause at the end.
6.
Alyssa (with Jesse, Robin, and Andrew) was the last to sing. She sang We'll Meet Again to close the service, which I thought would be very fitting and uplifting. After she went through it once, everyone was invited to sing along, so keep your ears open for that. It was a joyous moment.
While we were exiting the chapel, we had Harry Chapin's Circle playing in the background. Harry was dad's favourite artist, and my earliest memories of music involve my dad playing guitar and singing Circle and Cat's in the Cradle.
It may seem weird to post these excerpts from the service, but I honestly feel that it was a positive day - something I'll look back on and smile about. I hope whoever listens to these files takes away from them the fact that dad was very, very loved. I only hope that I am so lucky when my time comes.
On June 12-13, 2010, our team will be participating in the Ride to Conquer Cancer, benefiting Princess Margaret Hospital. This blog will chronicle our father's battle with CNS lymphoma and how it has and will continue to impact the lives of our family and friends. We will write about the memories that we have of our father prior to his diagnosis, the agony of training, our fundraising efforts, and of any other thoughts that through expression, may help us to cope with our experience with cancer.
As soon I as I saw my bike, I fell in love. So light, so sleek. And of course, I had to pick it up on the coldest day of the year. Where are you, warm weather? Moderately warm weather? I'll settle for that, too. I'm ready for spring and weekends spent cycling for hours.
