Recollecting the deceased in the relationship.
December 12, 2010
Reunion for the celebration of Louise's life
Its 11 a.m. and the drive from Martintown to St-Andrews West is a long and arduous one. The uneasiness I feel keeps me from appreciating the beauty of County Road 18; a scenic road bursting with beautifully manicured farms set on a bed of relaxing rolling hills. Normally, even winter cannot tarnish this image, but today my head is wrapped up in a cloud of fear and apprehension and I can only think of one thing: facing family and friends for Louise's celebration of life.
Of the 40 people I have invited to the reunion, only 12 of them had the courage to confirm their presence, as the damn weatherman predicted a massive snow storm that scared everyone away. Right now, I'm driving with my windshield working at full blast as it is not snow falling, but a torrent of rain. "They could have come anyway" I think in frustration, sad that Louise will not get the send-off that she deserve.
I drive a little further and arrive at the Quinn's Inn, a turn-of-the century superb old stone house that once was Ontario Governor's residence. I exit my parked car and set out to enter the Inn as I clutch Louise'd urn nervously. I take a deep breath, climb up the old worn-out wooden stairs and enter the main dinning room. There they all are; I see them all bunched up in a cozy corner by the massive blazing fireplace. They all turn their heads and watch me as I approach with uncertain steps to deposit Louise's urn and photo on the large window sill behind the long table where they all sit. Exhibiting a feeble smile and trying to look as casual as I can, I collapse on the first empty chair I can find and salute everyone...
... Outside in the wet parking lot when the reunion is over, after the usual hugs, kisses, handshakes and empty promises to see each other soon, we part and everyone goes home. As I drive back to my empty house, I can't help but be amazed at most people's resilience in the face of adversity and how they are able to carry on in spite of this tragic moment. Although, stubbornly holding on to my desire to face this alone, I am doubtful of my own resilience and decide to solicit the help of an old friend. Back at home, I enter the kitchen, open the cupboard door and reach for my bottle of 'Glenfiddich' single malt scotch.
Read mor at Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/zcg46jx