Dear Mike and Carol,
I, like many many others, have been spending much time mulling over
times spent with you both. Many sweet images enter my mind’s eye. The
beautiful light of a summer evening making me feel like I was in an
Audrey Hepburn movie as we sat together on the deck on Protection with
good food, lovely wine and the best company. Sitting in a church in
Nanaimo in the afternoon listening to music with joy and peace because
you two had thought to invite Jay and I to come along with you - you
thought we might like it. The transformation of our kitchen into a
room full of culinary harmony when we had the chance to host you for a
meal now and then (because Carol, Jay and I don’t often cook together
so peacefully!). But the sweetest, most vivid and the most apt picture
that comes to mind is from the very first time you two came to visit
at out house. Hannah Lily was only five at the time. We knew you two
were coming and we prepared some cheese and bread and crackers - maybe
a few olives too. The power that you and Mike have to elicit grace and
generosity in those around you is so powerful that my five year old
daughter took it upon herself to help with all the preparations for
your visit. When we saw your car pull up in front of our house and we
said you were here, she opened the door, walked down the path to greet
you and announced “We’ve got everything ready for you!”. You see, she
had never met you but because of how Jay and I spoke of you and
because of the very essence of who you are (which if why we spoke -
and speak - of you the way we do) she became the generous and
welcoming host. This was NOT usual behaviour for her at the time!
Know that we love you and that we are ready and able to help in any
way we can.
Oh Carol. There really are no words.
Love
Tricia
Friday, 24 February 2012
From Al McWilliams
Oh, Dear Carol,
I can't imagine that unique force that is Mike being diminished, and so quickly. I really don't know what to say. I have tears and I feel for you and Alison - I do know that heartbreak is a real thing, it is physical, palpable. All Lyse and I can do is send you our love. Know that we are thinking of the three of you, Yes, he is a man of 'G' words - glint, glare, guffaw, gruff, grace, generous, grin...but never goofy.
Al
Thursday, 23 February 2012
From Carol -- Thursday, February 23rd -- 10:20 pm
Things are worsening quickly. The main goal now is to keep Mike comfortable for the next few days, which likely means an increase in pain medication. Alison and I have just come home for the palliative care unit, having been assured by the nurses that Mike was likely to sleep comfortably through the night. We will return in the morning when we expect him to be more awake and a little more communicative.
He is very brave, dignified and accommodating, and it breaks our hearts to see how difficult all this is for him, especially since only a few weeks ago he was his hearty, hardy, humorous – OK, then, gleeful – self. In retrospect, I can see that he was worried about a few things, but they seem much like the worries we all have at this time of life: forgetfulness, mild confusion, lost keys, fatigue, and so on. Now we realize that he was likely ill for some time, that he probably had lung cancer for at least a couple of years, and maybe he was uncomplainingly ignoring some symptoms. Or maybe the symptoms were silent. In any case, after all the stresses he endured last fall (two surgeries, a long time on a catheter, and so on), the cancer just spread really quickly, affecting the spine, the pancreas, the brain and the liver as well as the lungs.
All of us, family and friends, are glad that he will not have to suffer an extended illness. He appeared hale and hearty until February 8th, when he was admitted to hospital for, I think, the first time in his life, and he has had an extraordinarily happy 74 years, entertaining himself and others and, as he liked to say, “exercising his faculties at large.”
We are hoping for a few more peaceful and comfortable days with him. Probably I will be staying at the hospital from tomorrow night on, and probably Alison will do so for a few days as well. We’ll keep adding to the list of things we love about Mike – it’s so easy to find those – but I think the blog may be a little silent for awhile.
Thanks so much to all of you for your expressions of love for Mike. It has been a great comfort to our family.
Carol
He is very brave, dignified and accommodating, and it breaks our hearts to see how difficult all this is for him, especially since only a few weeks ago he was his hearty, hardy, humorous – OK, then, gleeful – self. In retrospect, I can see that he was worried about a few things, but they seem much like the worries we all have at this time of life: forgetfulness, mild confusion, lost keys, fatigue, and so on. Now we realize that he was likely ill for some time, that he probably had lung cancer for at least a couple of years, and maybe he was uncomplainingly ignoring some symptoms. Or maybe the symptoms were silent. In any case, after all the stresses he endured last fall (two surgeries, a long time on a catheter, and so on), the cancer just spread really quickly, affecting the spine, the pancreas, the brain and the liver as well as the lungs.
All of us, family and friends, are glad that he will not have to suffer an extended illness. He appeared hale and hearty until February 8th, when he was admitted to hospital for, I think, the first time in his life, and he has had an extraordinarily happy 74 years, entertaining himself and others and, as he liked to say, “exercising his faculties at large.”
We are hoping for a few more peaceful and comfortable days with him. Probably I will be staying at the hospital from tomorrow night on, and probably Alison will do so for a few days as well. We’ll keep adding to the list of things we love about Mike – it’s so easy to find those – but I think the blog may be a little silent for awhile.
Thanks so much to all of you for your expressions of love for Mike. It has been a great comfort to our family.
Carol
I Love That Man
Today I spoke to Brian and Marg Smith here at Parkridge, where Mum and Dad have their Nanaimo Condo, and they asked to pass on a message to Mike from Ray Lawrence. Ray lives in the complex as well, and he is now in his late eighties. Some years back he was a student in Mike’s English class at VIU. Though I haven’t met Ray, I recognized his name because Mike had mentioned several times to me that he’d had a “wonderful” older student who was a pleasure to have in the classroom. Mike said Ray was a pleasure to have in the classroom, always so attentive and, as well as having his own intelligent comments, was so interested in what other younger students had to say.
Ray’s message, upon learning of Mike’s situation, was “I love that man.” He acknowledged that it is not the fashion now for a heterosexual man to profess love for another heterosexual man, although in Shakespeare’s time it was different. “But, he said, “I do love that man.”
It is such a comfort to know that my father’s students (and friends and family) love him so dearly. And at this time, though my father’s decline continues at a shocking pace, I witness too the mighty and profound love between my parents. Mike was dozing off holding Carol’s hand, and I started click-clicking again on the electronic thingy. After a while, I looked up to see my father asleep in the hospital bed and my mother half asleep in the chair, still holding hands. A very awkward position for my mother, and I suggested we could head out since he was settled. “As long as he’s holding my hand, I’m not letting go,” she told me.
May we all have such fierce shepherds to keep watch over us.
Alison
Ray’s message, upon learning of Mike’s situation, was “I love that man.” He acknowledged that it is not the fashion now for a heterosexual man to profess love for another heterosexual man, although in Shakespeare’s time it was different. “But, he said, “I do love that man.”
It is such a comfort to know that my father’s students (and friends and family) love him so dearly. And at this time, though my father’s decline continues at a shocking pace, I witness too the mighty and profound love between my parents. Mike was dozing off holding Carol’s hand, and I started click-clicking again on the electronic thingy. After a while, I looked up to see my father asleep in the hospital bed and my mother half asleep in the chair, still holding hands. A very awkward position for my mother, and I suggested we could head out since he was settled. “As long as he’s holding my hand, I’m not letting go,” she told me.
May we all have such fierce shepherds to keep watch over us.
Alison
Letter from Terence Young
Hi, Carol,
I was corresponding with my sister, Joan, and she told me she thinks she remembers meeting Mike at the old Munro's on Fort Street, and that he recommended Rose Tremain to her, for which suggestion she has been grateful ever since. With this small act and countless others you and Mike have influenced so many people. Lives well lived, I say, and my sister said, too, that this blog of yours bears witness to those lives beautifully, and at the right time when all that should be said gets said and not later. May it be so for all of us. I am no Alexander Pope who believes that "whatever is is right," but I can also see no other way than the one we've got, and am perplexed by it all. How much more so then must you be who are ahead of us on the path. Your strength and grace are an example to us all. Our Hollywood hearts are growing by leaps and bounds with every post and every testimony to Mike's greater heart. Tomorrow we send Liam back to Edmonton after hosting him for a few days during reading break, or what the Albertans call Family Week. Funny as the name sounds, we have been conscious of nothing but family the last little while, yours especially, how much larger you have made the idea seem with messages coming from around the world. I know I am glad to have been a part of it for all these years. Please tell Mike I never had a brother, older or younger, but he's pretty much what I would want if I could have the choice, one who cooks brilliantly and likes good scotch and a goofy project to occupy the body and the mind. All of that.
Much love to you both,
Terence
I was corresponding with my sister, Joan, and she told me she thinks she remembers meeting Mike at the old Munro's on Fort Street, and that he recommended Rose Tremain to her, for which suggestion she has been grateful ever since. With this small act and countless others you and Mike have influenced so many people. Lives well lived, I say, and my sister said, too, that this blog of yours bears witness to those lives beautifully, and at the right time when all that should be said gets said and not later. May it be so for all of us. I am no Alexander Pope who believes that "whatever is is right," but I can also see no other way than the one we've got, and am perplexed by it all. How much more so then must you be who are ahead of us on the path. Your strength and grace are an example to us all. Our Hollywood hearts are growing by leaps and bounds with every post and every testimony to Mike's greater heart. Tomorrow we send Liam back to Edmonton after hosting him for a few days during reading break, or what the Albertans call Family Week. Funny as the name sounds, we have been conscious of nothing but family the last little while, yours especially, how much larger you have made the idea seem with messages coming from around the world. I know I am glad to have been a part of it for all these years. Please tell Mike I never had a brother, older or younger, but he's pretty much what I would want if I could have the choice, one who cooks brilliantly and likes good scotch and a goofy project to occupy the body and the mind. All of that.
Much love to you both,
Terence
From the Frasers
Dear Mike and Carol et al,
It's at times like this that my memory plays the most damnable tricks on me. I could swear that we have a great picture somewhere of Mike standing in Ross and Judy's dining room, holding a glass of wine with a big, self-satisfied grin on his mug. I wanted to find the photo and forward it, but despite this damnable piece of technology in front of me, it eludes discovery. On reflection, maybe it never was a photo that I had, just a fond memory...
Speaking of which, I remember we came to your house on Brechin Road one cold Christmas Eve for a group reading of A Christmas Carol. As soon as we walked in your house I was immediately warmed by the smell of mulled wine and by the presence of loving souls. As the evening unfolded, though, what I remember most -- and it comes back to me every Christmas -- is an image of you, Mike, standing tall and holding your copy out in front of you with your glasses on your nose, and you just transformed and completely became Ebeneezer Scrooge. It was one of the most delightful bits of magic that I've ever seen, even if it wasn't that big a leap for you in some parts...!
This an apropos moment to celebrate such warm memories, but also hopefully to express my overwhelming gratitude to you for everything you have shared of yourself with me, and with us -- your excellent company, your care and kindness, your wit and zeal, your intellect and wisdom, your love and compassion, and so much more. I also want to express our thanks for the blog because we feel so far away and a bit helpless, but the blog has helped us feel closer to you.
You are all in our hearts and we are thinking of you every day, wishing you all strength, grace and peace.
With all our love,
Jeremy (and Janet, Jennifer, Caitlyn, Emily and Heather)
It's at times like this that my memory plays the most damnable tricks on me. I could swear that we have a great picture somewhere of Mike standing in Ross and Judy's dining room, holding a glass of wine with a big, self-satisfied grin on his mug. I wanted to find the photo and forward it, but despite this damnable piece of technology in front of me, it eludes discovery. On reflection, maybe it never was a photo that I had, just a fond memory...
Speaking of which, I remember we came to your house on Brechin Road one cold Christmas Eve for a group reading of A Christmas Carol. As soon as we walked in your house I was immediately warmed by the smell of mulled wine and by the presence of loving souls. As the evening unfolded, though, what I remember most -- and it comes back to me every Christmas -- is an image of you, Mike, standing tall and holding your copy out in front of you with your glasses on your nose, and you just transformed and completely became Ebeneezer Scrooge. It was one of the most delightful bits of magic that I've ever seen, even if it wasn't that big a leap for you in some parts...!
This an apropos moment to celebrate such warm memories, but also hopefully to express my overwhelming gratitude to you for everything you have shared of yourself with me, and with us -- your excellent company, your care and kindness, your wit and zeal, your intellect and wisdom, your love and compassion, and so much more. I also want to express our thanks for the blog because we feel so far away and a bit helpless, but the blog has helped us feel closer to you.
You are all in our hearts and we are thinking of you every day, wishing you all strength, grace and peace.
With all our love,
Jeremy (and Janet, Jennifer, Caitlyn, Emily and Heather)
Janice McCachen's letter to Carol
Dearest Carol,
Just hung up the phone with Lucy who was so glad to have spoken with you today, though sad too. You and Mike and Alison have been constantly in my thoughts. This week I have been teaching the closing scenes of The Tempest and it seems to express so much of what is happening with your lives. Transformation especially: "Nothing of him that doth fade but doth suffer a sea change into something rich and strange..." That part for sure. And Victor as Mike's magical spirit Ariel. Except that's you too. And Alison. And Charlotte. The blog shows how much you and Mike have and continue to transform other people's lives, make them richer (stranger? Well in a good way). And you live on a magical island and Mike would make a great Prospero, with his rough magic, except that he's not so much of a bully and he certainly has a better sense of humour. And of course the problem with that play is no balance: where are all the women? When I read the speech "we are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded by a dream" I cried and my class (the sweetest group of young souls) was very impressed. The Epilogue too "Now my charms are all o'erthrown /and what strength I have's mine own/Which is most faint...As you from crimes would pardoned be/Let your indulgence set me free." That too.
Today I also was teaching an excerpt from Bertrand Russell's "The Happy Life" and we read this: "The happy man...feels himself a citizen of the universe; enjoying freely the spectacle that it offers and the joys that it affords, untroubled by the thought of death because he feels himself not really separate from those who will come after him. It is in such profound instinctive union with the stream of life that the greatest joy is to be found." That too made me cry. Reading everyone's letters it is clear Mike holds that passport.
Lucy and I said how we are ready to be there when it's time for us to be or when you need us to be. You know that of course. Oh Carol.
Love Janice
Just hung up the phone with Lucy who was so glad to have spoken with you today, though sad too. You and Mike and Alison have been constantly in my thoughts. This week I have been teaching the closing scenes of The Tempest and it seems to express so much of what is happening with your lives. Transformation especially: "Nothing of him that doth fade but doth suffer a sea change into something rich and strange..." That part for sure. And Victor as Mike's magical spirit Ariel. Except that's you too. And Alison. And Charlotte. The blog shows how much you and Mike have and continue to transform other people's lives, make them richer (stranger? Well in a good way). And you live on a magical island and Mike would make a great Prospero, with his rough magic, except that he's not so much of a bully and he certainly has a better sense of humour. And of course the problem with that play is no balance: where are all the women? When I read the speech "we are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded by a dream" I cried and my class (the sweetest group of young souls) was very impressed. The Epilogue too "Now my charms are all o'erthrown /and what strength I have's mine own/Which is most faint...As you from crimes would pardoned be/Let your indulgence set me free." That too.
Today I also was teaching an excerpt from Bertrand Russell's "The Happy Life" and we read this: "The happy man...feels himself a citizen of the universe; enjoying freely the spectacle that it offers and the joys that it affords, untroubled by the thought of death because he feels himself not really separate from those who will come after him. It is in such profound instinctive union with the stream of life that the greatest joy is to be found." That too made me cry. Reading everyone's letters it is clear Mike holds that passport.
Lucy and I said how we are ready to be there when it's time for us to be or when you need us to be. You know that of course. Oh Carol.
Love Janice
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