This is for you, Frank

It was late when I returned my daughter, Sue's phone call. Her roommate, Brandie had left me a message saying that Frank was not doing well.

Frank had been suffering from cancer for over a year, and the hip replacement necessitated by the crumbling of the bones that formed his hip socket, had not gone well. Hardly surprising, since he was still taking chemotherapy. Frank and Sue had been a couple, living together for a number of years before the relationship stale-mated. They had remained friends, and Sue and her friends had been Frank’s support system after he stopped in at the hospital for tests one day, and three weeks later, found himself still there. He had been home recently, and Sue had left our Christmas celebrations here early Christmas Day to make sure she could have Christmas Dinner with Frank on the Island.

I dialled her number.

“Hi, Mom,” her voice had an adrenalin edge, a self-imposed will to keep going in spite of exhaustion.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Frank left us today.”

A collage of images swept through my mind: Frank making jokes in Sooke in a little roadside cafe with Sue, my husband and I; Sue and Frank chatting with Sue’s uncles at a family gathering in Revelstoke; Frank lighting the fireplace, smoke billowing out into the living room in their house in Saanich, the three of us collapsing in laughter; Frank at our old house, discussing a rewiring project. But most of all, I remember Frank at a Beach party in Metchosin, relaxed and cheerful, Sue looking calm and happy. He called me “Mom” right up to the end.

His passing was unexpected, triggered by a stroke. He died in hospice, holding Sue’s hand, surrounded by friends.

This is for you, Frank, from one whose heart you touched and warmed. Safe journey, my friend.

volunteers can create powerful change...

Christmas cards don't have to be fancy to touch your heart. Take the hand-drawn picture of a tree we recieved from a first-grader in Ghana. The card features a tree inside, a tree growing in a grassy mound. The tree has no leaves, and the branches are all severed at a certain point. Each bare branch is topped with a circle, which perhaps represents Christmas ornaments. Beside the tree, he has drawn a book. The drawings are striking in their simplicity.
This child has someone, perhaps a volunteer who writes for him. I say this because I do not think it was the child who wrote "Happy Christmas" across the front with felt pen. Surely a grade one child would not have the foresight to enclose the Christian Children's fund catalog page with a picture of five baby chicks. I have often wondered if the family would prefer a goat or chickens or mosquito nets. I now know what this family needs, and thanks to that volunteer, and a pencil-crayon card, the child will soon be chasing, feeding and petting chickens.