Losing a loved one is never easy.
That's hardly a bold statement, but one I'm sure everyone reading this column would agree with. Whether it's the first time or the last time, someone you've known for only a few years or a lifetime, death touches us all one way or another.
So far in my life, I've been relatively lucky that all my close and extended family have been in good health. Even long after leaving my childhood and adolescence behind, I'd had all my grandparents still in my life.
That changed on Monday, May 5, when my grandfather Howard Davies, known to me as Grandpa, passed away in Regina at the age of 79. His passing came after many years of bad health and injury, but it was still shockingly quick for me and the rest of my family. The one comfort I took was a family-wide effort to call him on FaceTime the day before to say our goodbyes. Even though my love for him didn't need to be said, I made sure he knew that last time we talked.
As my family prepared for his funeral last week, all of us dug through our photo albums and computers for photos of Grandpa. Photos from my dad and his brothers' childhood, his wedding with Grandma Noella, a photo of me as a child perched atop him while he did his best to watch TV. They're windows into all these precious times, before and after my birth, that illustrated a life. A perfect one? No, but a good one.
I'd always laugh at his stories of the many jobs he'd worked over the years, from a bus driver to a plumber and, if he and my dad are to be believed, a barber for all of one disastrous day.
One perk of being the eldest of his grandchildren is that I remember a time when he was more active. One of my earliest memories of him was building a snowman in the backyard together and then tackling it. Playing bocce ball together, even if I wasn't particularly good.
Grandpa always loved to joke and to support the Saskatchewan Roughriders. As his own health began to fail, he became a strident supporter of my brothers, watching every game he could from afar. He was always there for me whenever I needed to talk and ready to either give advice or make a quip about my endless car troubles.
When I was much younger and thought myself much wiser, I used to discuss with my friends in junior high about what happens after we die. In the Catholic tradition, we believe in life after death and the resurrection. Beyond that, I believe that we live on through our actions and what we choose to do in this life we have.
Human memory fades with time. As hard as it might be to believe while we're here, one day those who remember and love us will pass on as well. I believe that our actions and our impact upon others are what survives. A word of kindness and a helping hand, inspiring others to do the same, passing on that generosity down the ages. The impact of our actions long outliving the memory of the people we were.
Being kind and generous to one another, with a smile, is what I believe we were all put on this world to do. It's certainly what Grandpa did and what I aim to do for the rest of my own life, until we meet again.
