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March 6, 2003
17 Weeks, 4 Days
We arrived home last night, late in the evening. I was never so grateful to pull up to our house and realize that I was home. I will try to not make this entry as long as the previous one, and simply put highlights of the past few days in instead of writing out moment for moment.
We left as planned on Saturday afternoon and arrived in the airport in Calgary mostly unscathed from the flying. Flying is always extremely uncomfortable for Simon – his shoulders are literally huge, and being squished into a small seat for hours and hours is very hard on his body. On top of that, he is one of those strange folk who can venture outside in weather just hovering above the freezing mark in a t-shirt and be completely comfortable and at ease. So, the heat generated by sitting uncomfortably for so long as well as the general temperature of the airplane makes him very hot. Anyway, I knew that we would be okay, as long as we could get some food soon and some fresh air. I managed to reach my mum, who was at her sister’s house for a formal sit-down dinner (something Simon gave me a strange look for but is completely familiar to me). She told me that she had reserved a car for us, and we grabbed our baggage and headed off.
Simon had lived in Calgary for two different co-op terms, and I had lived her for 8 months several years ago, so as we were driving, things were eerily familiar in that déjà vu sense. I hadn’t been to my aunt’s house, she had moved into it after I left, but I knew the neighbourhood and proceeded to direct Simon, albeit with some ‘oh crap, that was our exit, I guess we’ll take the next one’ comments. Hey, it was dark, and I hadn’t been in the city for 6 years. Plus, I was pregnant, so gimme a break, eh?
We got to the house, and everyone was there. It was slightly overwhelming to see so many familiar faces either grown up out of childhood, or with a few more wrinkles and grey in their hair. Simon, was, just overwhelmed. He knew my mum, my sister and youngest brother, and that was it. There were over 25 people at the dinner, and he hadn’t yet recovered temperature control from the plane, so we sat quietly together and just took the scene in. Arrangements had been made for us to stay with this couple who were old friends (as EVERYONE was at that table that night) and thankfully they decided to leave earlier than others and we followed them home.
The next day for us was filled with visiting some old haunts and stores. We took the opportunity to go to several cowboy stores to try to find Simon some new boots, his old ones are really on their very very last legs. I tried some on too, and melted my husband’s heart when I put on a hat as well. He just got this very funny look in his eyes when I showed him my ‘look.’ That night there was a dinner at someone else’s house. Simon was getting more familiar with everyone and was thus much more comfortable. I was absolutely delighted to find out that the Reverend who had delivered my grandmother’s homily had been flown in to speak at the service. Well, delighted and a little apprehensive. I was already familiar with his ability to see through the many layers and subterfuges that this family has going on and I was apprehensive about how emotional I would get when it came time for him to speak. He has the most amazing ability to speak to the truly important things in one’s life.
It was also here that we both found out something interesting about my mum. She had apparently been talking about her impending grandchild to quite a few people, quite at length. We had several family members come up to us and wish us congratulations during the proceedings, something that produced this strange feeling of pride in me. As I have said, my mother and I are not close and we had not yet witnessed any physical manifestations of her joy for this grandchild. Over the next couple of days, we would receive almost a hundred more well wishes from people, family and friends who had been on the receiving end of a grandmother’s pride and happiness. We left early again that night, it having been so emotionally charged, and we were struggling with jet lag quite a bit.
The funeral service was set for Monday afternoon, at 2pm. There was a family meeting at my uncle’s house early that morning, where we talked about where we would be seated and the order that we would walk into the church, as well as the general organization of the service. My mum had arranged to meet with a florist prior to going to the church to make flower arrangements to display on the steps up to the dais/alter. Simon and I, my sister and my mum and her partner went down and picked out arrangements that tried to symbolize what we were feeling during that day. I was really pleased with ours – I think my uncle would have liked it. Back at the house waiting for the limousines to arrive, everyone was a little jittery and skittish. We were dressed to the nine’s in black and other sombre tones and many of my cousins were smoking as if it was to be their last day allowed to do so.
We travelled to the church in three Ford Excursion limousines, which drove nose to bumper the entire way; I have to say that it was quite a procession. When we arrived at the church, we gathered in one of the back rooms for a quiet moment together as a family before being organized into the order in which we would sit in the pews. We filed out and instead of entering the church from inside as we had done for my grandmother’s funeral, my uncle’s widow wanted to walk the length of the aisle to where we would be sitting in the front. The walk was long, not because it was an enormous church although it was indeed a large one, but rather because of all the people who we filed past as we walked; who knew that we were the sons, daughters, sisters, nieces and nephews of this great man.
The entire service was truly incredible. They organizing committee had decided to break up my uncle’s life into five parts, and an old friend spoke about each part. There were hymns and songs, three of his sons got up and read a psalm, the Reverend gave his homily. I cried a lot. I expected to cry, but I had not expected that I would spend almost the entire service with tears rolling down my face. I just held Simon’s hand, laid my head on his shoulder, and was comforted by him and the little person growing inside of me still, even on this black day. I learned of so many amazing things that my uncle had done that day: in philanthropy, in business, in personal goals, in athletics, but most importantly, in family and friends. I knew him only as an uncle, as this great and powerful man who was father to my cousins and now I know him as so much more. This is the real tragedy of his death.
At the end of the service, the boys carried his casket down the aisle and we gathered round as it was placed into the hearse. In a way I was glad that we had this moment, because it was a real release valve for many of us in the family. We were able to openly and loudly grieve and no one disturbed us. On the journey to the country club where the reception was held, everyone was quiet, just reflecting on the service and the words spoken. When we arrived at the club the mood overall was still sombre, but it didn’t last long. There were a few hundred people there, some of whom hadn’t seen each other for literally years, many of whom had not seen us, the children (although I hardly could call most of us that now, all but one of us I think is in our twenties +) in just as much time.
It was here, wandering around and seeing so many familiar faces that we were congratulated again and again, over and over. In the course of our visit, we had told only three people. EVERYONE else had come up to us to wish us good health. It was deeply touching, because for many, it was the only good news the family has right now. Proof that the circle of life continues to revolve, regardless of the events that occur during its revolution. It was a really special time actually.
The other wonderful thing that happened at the reception was that I got to meet Lily Joanna, the newborn daughter of another branch of the family. My great-grandfather had two daughters, and this new baby girl was the first great-great-grandchild of this even greater man (he passed away in 1976, never to meet me). My Little One would be the first great-great-grandchild on this side of the family. It was really touching that they had flown out for the service, and shows how the family pulls together during crises like this. They had to leave fairly early in the reception to catch their returning flight, but it was wonderful to talk to my cousin (I have no idea what the proper term is for this relation of mine, we’ve always just referred to each other as cousins though) about all things baby. She was so excited about my pregnancy as well and offered to chat anytime I wanted – so kind!
Throughout the two large rooms, on tables everywhere, were photos of my uncle, throughout his life. With his wives (he was married three times), his kids, his step-kids, his nieces and nephews, his sisters, his friends, on social occasions, on affairs of state, on personal quests… Anyone who had a photograph of him had gathered them up for display on this day, and they were so wonderful. They really showed my uncle as who he was. Joyful, proud, powerful, laughing, stern, shocked, composed, calm, delirious and more.
John MacMillan Stirling Lecky. Grandson to H.R. MacMillan. Member of the Men’s Eight Rowing Crew who won the only Olympic medal for Canada in the 1960 Olympics in Italy. Chef de Mission for Canada for the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. Under his leadership, Canada won the highest number of medals for an Olympics in the 20th Century. Chief Financial Officer for the 1988 Olympics in Calgary. Under his leadership, this Olympics was the most financially successful Olympics in history. He donated millions to his alma mater Shawnigan Lake School, on Vancouver Island, to restore the old historic buildings, build a large new Crewhouse, and a dormitory. Each was dedicated to someone who had impacted his life in some way; he refused for the work or buildings to be dedicated to him. Founder of Canada 3000, Canada’s third national and international airline. Father to five, step-father to three, uncle to six, brother to two. How do these mere words sum up a man who was literally larger than life? How can they express the spirit of a man who achieved so much in life and yet was hardly finished with his goals? I don’t know.
The last day in Calgary we drove my mum and her (newly announced) fiancé to the airport. There is so much to say about this man she is now with, but I don’t know if this is the time. What I do want to put down is that everyone that we talked to over the course of the visit mentioned that they really did not like him, they thought he was after my mum’s money (she is much much more wealthy than he is), they had odd vibes from him and thought he was completely untrustworthy. This was the first time I was able to spend any time with my mum since we arrived and I desperately wanted to talk with her about her pregnancies with us, her labours, what we weighed and more. Because she is perpetually late, we had 20 minutes at the airport before she had to go through security to board the plane.
We grabbed some Starbucks and sat down and I asked her a question. Before she had even begun to answer, her fiancé got up and left us – he was so uncomfortable with this topic that he couldn’t even sit with us. We talked about some of the things I was curious about and he returned. I began asking another question and took a pause mid-speech. He interrupted me completely and said “Your mother just bought a motorcycle, a Harley.” Well, that’s fine and interesting information, thank you, but I was in the middle of a question to my mother, whom I have seen for a total of maybe four hours these past four days, and I would really like to talk with her. The gall of this man is truly incredible. I will take the time to write down what I feel about him another time though, this isn’t quite right now.
Thank goodness that the remainder of the day was just lovely. One of the old old dinosaur friends of the family (as the younger generation called them to tease them) had arranged a brunch for the younger generation at my uncle’s club. He bought it and had it totally refurbished to a higher standard in the mid-1990’s and it is a beautiful club. Anyway, the fellow had reserved all the squash courts he could and also the private room in the club for us to just sit and hang out in and watch whomever was playing. Simon was keen to give it a try, and ended up playing squash for the first time ever for over two hours! Yowzers. Some of the crew were leaving from the club for the airport and there were many goodbye’s and hugs. I was repeatedly asked if we were going to fly out to QB, the beach village/town where we had spent our summers from birth to age 12 or so for my family, and the cousins still go every summer. It was very evident that my uncle’s death was the catalyst to ensuring that the younger generation stuck close from now onwards.
We left and headed off to a bicycle shop. We had been thinking of buying Simon a bike for several months as his was stolen a week before we moved across the country and he rode it everyday to work and back. The shop we went to was the one where he had ironically purchased the bike on a co-op term and we were back for a test drive of the one we had narrowed it down to. I had already said that we were going to buy it for him – Simon is very reluctant to spend any money usually, but I was taking no guff about it. The bike was on sale for $300 less than original, the sales tax in Calgary is half that here in Atlantic Canada, and they could ship it for $50… Nowhere in this city could we find a bike of that high quality for anywhere near the price we paid for it in Calgary. We arranged for it to be shipped and home we went to just lay low for a few hours.
We had a quiet night that night. We had dinner at Earl’s (so wonderful a treat to eat west coast food!) with the couple we were staying with and carried on to my cousin’s mum’s house. I hadn’t seen my aunt (I still can’t think of her as NOT my aunt, having spent my whole childhood calling her that) in over a decade, but she was exactly as I remembered her, only now I was seeing her through an adult’s eyes. We hung out there for a couple of hours before heading home for bed, I was quite exhausted from the day. The cousins were going out on the town and invited us, but with drinking and smoking on the agenda, that is just not a part of our lives anymore and I tactfully begged off.
The following morning we awoke, packed up and had breakfast with the couple we were staying with. I had thought our plane left at 10:30 that morning and so we were off to the airport. Along the way, I looked at the ticket to sheepishly look at Simon and tell him that we didn’t leave until 12:45. Oops, sorry sweetie! When we finally arrived at the airport, the flights were fine and the friend who was taking care of Brook came and picked us up. We got home, ordered pizza, spent time with the kids and just settled down before heading to bed. Home. So deliciously wonderful to sleep in one’s own bed.
Namaste, Laura and the Little One
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