“They say that when a
person is close to death, their life flashes before their eyes. In my case, my life is moving in slow motion.” (Ted Roach, reflecting on his life as he
prepares for his inevitable death).
Living with Ted
 | |
| Not Ted's , but one similar |
It was the mid eighties.
Our doorbell rang and Ted was standing there smiling with one suitcase
in hand and a ’79 green Thunderbird with an orange interior (later
affectionately referred to as “the pumpkin”) was parked neatly by the curb. He was just passing through. With a ‘tramp card’[1]
in his wallet, he was starting a new job as an Electrician in a neighboring
town. He needed a place to stay, just
until he found a place to live and received his first paycheck. We greeted him with open arms. Ted was the 'fun' brother-in-law, whose quick
wit and unusual perspective on life won us over time and again. Twice divorced, it never occurred to me that
Ted might have an aversion to commitment.
When it is an immediate family member, it is just not cool to sit in
judgment, so whatever demons chased Ted in his personal life, they were his demons and he would have to deal
with them.
We didn’t have a guest room.
We had a small but comfortable home with our two children and if Ted
didn’t mind sleeping on the pull out sofa in the playroom, then so be it. He proclaimed that it would be just
fine. It would only be ‘for 2 weeks’, so
whatever we had to offer, albeit modest, Ted was more than happy to accept. He moved in, with his one suitcase.
The two weeks passed swiftly. Our son and our daughter were thrilled to
have Uncle Ted at the dinner table every evening recounting his humorous
experiences at his new job; teasing and torturing me, his sister-in-law and his
new subject for humor...at my expense.
Ted was quick to laugh and was very, very, good at making us laugh. As the ‘sister-in-law’, my role was to make
him feel welcome and like one of our family.
Little did I know that he was to become a member of our family for a
much longer period. I must have
succeeded, because eighteen months later, Ted moved out to an apartment of his
own. Upon reflection, if we hadn’t
requested him to move outside to smoke, he might still be with us!! His smoking was causing major health issues
with our youngest, our little three year old boy, who was suffering from
chronic bronchitis and repeated pneumonia.
Ted was heartbroken that his habit had caused this. He loved our children, and it was reciprocal. For me, it was like having a third child in
the house, trapped in an adult body. He was
as demanding, and at times more so, than my own two children. This, I told him on many occasions, and he
would laugh and shrug it off. We had a
great one-up-man ship going and it became increasingly difficult for Ted to
have the final say. I would later tell
him that I had a good teacher.
Our daughter and son were Ted’s photographic subjects. They would willingly sit anywhere and wait
for Ted to shoot that perfect shot. Ted
took some great pictures of the two. He
captured birthdays, Christmas morning; our daughter losing her first tooth; family
reunions; our son’s first fat lip after falling off his bike; trips to the
local zoo and the list goes on. As a
young mother, it was interesting to see the bond forming between them and I was
delighted to watch our children providing Ted with so much joy. Ted took them to MacDonald's every Saturday
morning allowing me and my husband an extra hour of sleep. They accepted Ted ‘as is’ and loved him
unconditionally. The beauty of seeing
this person, this Uncle of theirs, through the eyes of a child was a lesson I
learned during those 18 months. Many
years later, as our children grew up, mention of Uncle Ted, was a guarantee
to bring smiles to their faces.
Fast forward 26 years.
With no expectations or preconceived idea of what I would
find, I entered his room and sat by Ted’s hospital bed. He is now a frail version of the once vibrant
and energetic Ted I used to know. His
laugh is the same. His wit and humor
still intact, once again, Ted is
teaching me a lesson. It’s a lesson in
the art of dying. This is a new experience
for me. I have never discussed death so openly
or so candidly with the dying. I have encountered
being present with imminent death, but like the elephant in the room, I skirted
the subject. It was a hard subject to
broach, and so usually went unspoken. Ted
has changed all this. Ted has moved
through several stages quickly and with his unusual perspective, has reached a
state of peace and enlightenment. It was
quite something for me to witness this and to listen to him as he so joyfully described
how he is ‘enjoying his journey’. Ted
has received a gift and he knows it and is thankful. Ted will pass from this world with no regrets. Bon Voyage Ted, and thank you, once again,
for this life lesson. I will miss you.
May 12, 2012
To be continued…..
[1] A
tramp card was a slang term for (CUPE) union’s travel card allowing the trades person
to pursue work opportunities throughout Canada.
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