This morning, your mom and I woke up and got ready for work just like any other day. You were still tucked away in your mom's belly, giving her some kicks to show you're still there. We got to work and went about our normal routines. Then, at morning break, about 9am in Bangkok, your mom called me on the phone. This is not a normal thing so I was immediately concerned. She told me that my cousin Randi had posted something on Facebook. I had my computer in front of me and no students in my room so I did a quick check. Her Facebook status read, "Today we lost a great man, who knew everything about the outdoors. I will miss him soo much. Im sad that I will not get to dance with you at my wedding. I love you grandpa, but I'm glad u get to be with the love of your life again. Xo". I had to hold disbelief that maybe she was referring to another, non-shared grandpa but deep down, I knew that your great-grandfater, Russell Thomson had passed away.
I scrambled to confirm it. I had tried calling my mom but there was no answer at her home. Eventually, Randi's brother Bob signed in to Facebook chat. With a few short messages, he was the one that confirmed it for me officially. He had said that his mom, Kelly, and my mom were at my grandpa's house in Ancaster so I called his home. Funny how it's probably the last time I will ever call that number though I doubt I will ever forget it. My aunt Kelly answered and passed the phone to my mom. Her voice sounded surprisingly stable given the fact that she was in her now-deceased father's home and police and medical staff were in the process of moving his body from the home. When I asked her how she felt, all she said was "numb." And that's a pretty accurate description of how I feel too.
After hanging up with my mom, I took a few minutes to dry some tears and gather my composure then sorted cover for the rest of both mine and your mother's teaching responsibilities for the day. I walked up to your mother's classroom and allowed the elementary principal, Brett, to ask your mom into the hallway. She knew right away what that meant. We shared some tears and hugs and made our way home to give everything some time to sink in.
I can honestly say that I have no regrets about my relationship with my grandpa. We spoke often, typically every week or two, and it was always great to hear his voice (especially when I would call him early in his morning time, before he had had a chance to put in his false teeth). Most calls would last anywhere from about 12-20 minutes before one of us would declare that we were out of things to say. But that was plenty. Often, we'd catch up on things that I had been up to and he'd talk about his week of playing cards (he was a killer bridge player) and taking walks to the local Walmart for a McDonalds coffee. In recent months and years, it was harder for him to remember things he had been doing. Even if he had just finished watching a hockey game, he likely couldn't tell you who won or probably even who played. But he enjoyed it in the moment.
Of course, if you asked him about something from the past, his memories were as clear as a movie and he could remember all kinds of stories from his childhood. Because we live in Thailand (and before that, I would call him from Germany, England, Australia, or Vancouver when I lived in those places), it was common to hear him say, "One time, I travelled all the way to Stoney Creek." In case that doesn't mean anything to you, Stoney Creek is a part of the Greater Hamilton area and is maybe 20 kilometres down the road. It was his playful way of saying he never really travelled too far which, in all honesty, is a lie.
Your great-grandpa had travelled around North America quite a bit with your great-grandma when she was alive. They had done trips to California, Western Canada, and they had a good stretch of years where they would spend their winters in Florida. When he was in the navy, he had been stationed along the East Coast of the U.S. near Boston. In 2011, he got his first passport and travelled all the way to Ireland for our wedding. He loved every minute of it and the Irish side of the family fell in love with him too.
Above all though, Rus loved to head up North to the Ontario wilderness for some camping, canoeing and fishing. He was pretty incredible. Even in the past year or two, he would drive up there on his own, put his kayak in the water (his old canoe had gotten a bit too heavy for him) and cast a fishing line. When I was a kid, it was common for us to go camping with my grandma and grandpa. He particularly loved Grundy Lake Provincial Park near Parry Sound. It doesn't seem so long ago but apparently it's been over five years since we went camping in Grundy together. It was great to spend some time with him but it was also a bit of a disaster since it was quite rainy and the tent was leaking. It cut our time a bit short but it was still a nice getaway.
It is going to be strange visiting Canada and not going to Ancaster to visit my grandpa. No more sitting on his front verandah, sipping a cold drink, watching him feed "the chippies" peanuts, chatting with passing neighbours (and passing strangers for that matter). I will now have to live with him in my head and my heart. I will remember him for the kind things he did and for things that he taught me. Yes, I can probably give him some credit for my frugality. If anyone knew the best value order at Wendy's, he was your man. But I can also give him credit for showing how rewarding kindness and forgiveness can be. If you ask people from the generation before me about him, you might hear stories about Rus having a temper or being a stern father. I never knew that Rus Thomson.
I doubt there are many families out there that don't have their share of in-family politics and our family is no different. Without getting into the details, in his later years, your great-gandfather mellowed himself out, swallowed his pride and put the past behind him with regards to any family politics. He decided to live the rest of his life knowing and loving all his kids, grandkids and even a few great-grandkids. I could see how happy he was in that decision; casting off any grudges and just enjoying people for who they are. It's a shining example and something I strive for myself.
In recent months, Rus had been fighting what I can only assume was prostate cancer. He wasn't very forthcoming with information about it and would often try to dismiss questions about it or downplay his visits (or lack of visits) to the doctor. I imagine that the topic was pretty scary for him. Strangely though, I don't think it was the cancer itself that scared him so much as the idea of burdening anyone else with his problems. That in itself must have been scary, going through things alone. Lately, I had taken to asking him how he was feeling when we would talk. When I spoke to him last Thursday, he said that he felt generally well but he was getting more tired more easily. I asked him how he felt when driving his car and he said he still felt safe but knew that he tried to avoid driving at night to new places. He had plans to visit the doctor this week actually as a follow up to his visit a few months earlier about something "in his bowels" as he described it, probably not wanting to use words like prostate or other insinuating terms.
Despite this, he was still quite active and independent right up until his death. He played cards at least four or five times a week and tried to walk a few miles each day when weather permitted (or, even when it didn't permit, he'd still do a few laps around "the track" at Walmart). One sad yet uplifting catchphrase that he had adopted lately too was, "I've had a good run." He had come to terms with an approaching end and was ready for it yet he hadn't given up on life. That said, he was right; he had had a good run.
Sadly, he never got to meet you but Rus Thomson died in the best way that he could have hoped. He lived life right up until the end and passed peacefully in his sleep. He has left the world a lineage of wonderful people who will miss him dearly and who will always love him. I know that his spirit will be looking over us, keeping watch.
Thank you grandpa for all your love. You will be in our memories forever.
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