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Remembering Great-Grammy Pat

Patrick Davies’ monthly column
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Maxine and Harvey Dillabough walked the 100 Mile Hospice Winter Walk Trail several times on Friday. (Patrick Davies photo - 100 MIle Free Press)

As the sun set on Friday evening I participated in the 100 Mile Hospice Winter Walk.

In between taking pictures for the paper, I had the opportunity to read the inspirational quotes along the route, watch the candles flicker and ruminate on mortality.

As a young man, I’m fortunate to have not yet experienced a loss that truly shook me.

Beyond my brother suffering through a bout of Stage 4 Hodgkins Lymphoma almost six years ago, I’ve been fortunate that my grandparents, parents and close friends have all remained safe and healthy.

Yet as I walked along that snowy trail, my thoughts turned to my Great-Grammy Pat and Great-Grampy Larry. I was lucky to have been born while they were both still alive and active.

While my own memories of my early years are hazy, I’d often visit them at their home in Roseneath, PEI, where Great-Grammy used to play the fiddle and serve us biscuits.

When Great-Grampy Larry died, I was still fairly young and living in Alberta. I remember being sad but I don’t think it ever really hit me.

It wasn’t the same with Great-Grammy Pat. Whenever we’d go home to PEI every other summer, we also made sure we visited her. Initially, it was at her home but in later years, it was a retirement home and then the nursing home.

She loved going to Tim Hortons for a coffee and to catch up with her old friends and students from when she was a one-room school teacher.

As I grew older I realized that she wouldn’t be here forever and did my best to spend time with her.

When I saw her for what proved to be the last time in 2016, it was heart-rending. She was still talkative and alert but she had to be reminded who I was and didn’t have her usual energy. I left the nursing home that day with the knowledge I’d never see her again.

A little over a year later, she passed away. This year she would have turned 100.

So seeing those candles, reading those quotes and simply walking with my thoughts was comforting. It’s a reminder that while loss and grief are inevitable in life, they don’t have to define you.

It’s a comforting thought.



patrick.davies@100milefreepress.net

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Patrick Davies

About the Author: Patrick Davies

An avid lover of theatre, media, and the arts in all its forms, I've enjoyed building my professional reputation in 100 Mile House.
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