Oct. 30th, 2004

Norm, you can't take your grudges to Heaven, but here's some Glenfiddich for the road

Norm finally gave in and left this lonely world of ours. I last saw my good friend about two weeks ago, like I do every saturday. He was in his room, trying to get some sleep. He told me that it was the first time in his life that he ever had to use an inhaler, that his breathing had become too hard for him on his own. That day was also the only day he didn't tell me that he was going to die. I could see that not only was he more weary then I had ever seen him before, but also his mind was in a million places all at once... it was almost impossible to keep a conversation going while staying on topic. He had said some things that had made me uncomfortable, that combined with his deteriorating body and pain, I found it hard to be near him. I didn't visit him the following Saturday, or the next. I was making excuses and I realized that this was not his fault....he had no control over what words came out of his mouth and I had to put that behind me and continue being the only family he had. I went into his room this morning, only to find a new gentleman had moved in. I apologized for intruding on this man and asked a nurse who was cleaning rooms. I asked where Norm was and she told me to hold tight for one sec while she grabbed another nurse. Together they told me that he had passed on about two weeks ago. "He told you, didn't he? That he was going to die?" the one nurse asked me as I broke down from a wave of sadness, guilt and shock all at once. He had told me...almost everytime I saw him. He was the boy who cried 'wolf' one too many times, I had called his bluff almost every week. But as it turned out, our last visit was the one time he never mentioned it. "You should have been notified...are you family?"No. I am just a friend who comes, signs in, visits and leaves quietly. Noone ever knew who I was - except for Norm.So there you have it you cranky old bugger, you're finally out of pain and out of the hell-hole you refused to call 'home' at the lodge. I won't stop looking for your written works done at UBC and in Penticton....and I only hope that you are finally now flying in the Cessna-150 airplane that you knew so well. Thanks for the good laughs Norm. I'll have my sisters play the pipes for you and we'll have some Glenfiddich in your name.