The time that is given

Early morning telephone calls are always troubling, and this one was no exception. My 95 year old grandma just passed away in her sleep last night.

She was quite literally the glue that kept my family so close. Always so warm and loving, she made everyone who stepped through her door feel as if they were the most special person in the world. Bayfield became a magical place, not only because so much of my childhood had been spent there, but because of her, Helen LeBeau.

I took friends there, Fish, Wayne, and eventually a girl friend, Juli, who ended up becoming my wife.  They all spoke of Bayfield as a magical place and always asked after my grandma…even decades later. It’s a testimony to her spirit. She was a woman who bore the family upon her wide shoulders with pride.

One of her truest joys were her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Every year, after a long cold Canadian winter, as the snows began to thaw, she’d perk up in preparation of our yearly gathering in the summer. When she was able she’d start baking pies and freezing them, knowing that hungry grandsons would be descending upon her in a few short months. It was the highlight of her year, that time when the family coalesced and everyone was in one place.

The memories of those times are like warm little gems, embedded in my soul. If you could see it, my soul might appear as a king’s crown, aflame in that resplendence. I’m a very lucky guy. My grandma loved me and that grandma was Helen LeBeau.

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

J.R.R. Tolkien

Strange that the title of this blog is a JRR Tolkien line taken from Lord of the Rings, about death and our role in life.

This is a sad way in which to christen a blog, but a friend of mine just passed away and I’d like to write a little something about the person…maybe as a type of catharsis, but more so as a way to commemorate his life. To let his children get a bit of a glimpse into who Lance was from a grown up’s perspective.

Now the strange thing is that I wasn’t all that close to Lance Melting. In fact, it’s his brother-in-law, Jason, that I am very good friends with. But I can tell you, Lance’s passing is a tragic loss. He was one of the few truly gentle souls.

I can’t say with any degree of certainty that I’ve ever met a more gentle person than Lance Melting. He was always sincere in his life. Respect and integrity radiated from him at all times and it was always a joy to shake his hand to say ‘hello’. In a mad world, Lance was a beacon of sanity.

If I had to tell his children one thing about their father that they might not know, it would be that Lance always had a smile and a warm word for me, a person who was nearly a stranger, but always treated as a friend. And that is a rare gift.

Lance Melting…You shall be missed.