Graveyards are funny places. I was wandering through Ross Bay cemetery yesterday in attempt to let the babe sleep, when I felt myself compelled to find a certain tombstone. I had found it once before and had a good, sad laugh about it, and at that moment I had to be near it. I had to see it. I had to know it. I love the feeling of being gently pulled. "Come down this path. Look right. See? I'm here. Say hi. Go down that way. Someone else is calling you." Maybe that's crazy talk, but cemeteries do that to me.
Anyways, I found her. Eleanor Elizabeth Gray. 1900-2001. Sure, the last name is different, but this Eleanor Elizabeth lived to be 101 years old! I love that she had a long life. I hope it was happy and that she is now at peace. I hope my Eleanor Elizabeth also has a long and happy life but we never know how our lives and deaths will be. Wandering through the cemetery really hit that home. There seemed to be as many long lives as those cut short.
Today is a dear friend of my father's funeral. He passed away last week and I have been unable to write about it because it is so sad. He was my dad's first friend when we moved to Victoria 30 years ago. They bonded through rugby and his wife and my mum became close and I grew up with their kids. We played together every weekend while our dads played rugby and when they got too old for that, we played while they coached. Either way, every Saturday, rain or shine (mostly rain), we were at a rugby match. I was always a little frightened of Tom. He was really a man's man - big, tough and mean. As I grew older I realized its not him that's mean - its coaching that makes ANYONE seem mean. All that yelling and screaming from the sidelines...yikes!
When Tom was diagnosed with cancer 10 odd years ago, it was devastating blow to the entire community. He had malignant myeloma, which wouldn't give him much a chance. I remember running into his two beautiful daughters quite soon after his diagnosis, and how angry and sad they were, but how incredibly mature and composed they seemed. We were still just teenagers, but they had such a strong, fighting spirit, they seemed so much older, so much like Tom.
I don't pretend to know what his fight was like. There were times when it was awful, and I am sure he wanted to quit. 10+ years of fighting a debilitating and cruel disease, but he kept going. He is our hero, our tent pole, if you will. His fight inspires us to keep going, to go forward every day. His case was, in a lot of ways, hopeless, but he defied all the odds and survived. He lived to see his eldest daughter married. He was able to walk her down the aisle. That's pretty awesome. Every time we talk about Eleanor's future, we reference Tom. He should have died a long time ago, but he fought hard and long and was able to receive new treatments that prolonged and improved his life. I pray that the same can happen for Eleanor. I pray that his lovely family can find peace in this tough time. I pray for my dad - he was also Tom's doctor and is taking this pretty hard.
As I have written this, the sun is threatening to emerge and shine through this miserable, rainy day. If rain on your wedding day is considered bad, then sun on your funeral can only mean good. I hope it is as good as it can be, for everyone.
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