December 18: Friends will know that Christmas is not my favourite time of year. I use that term deliberately since Christmas is no longer a day – if it ever was – but rather an orgy of spending and “celebrating” that extends from Halloween to mid-January. With the actual date now a week away, I believe that I have passed the low-point of my annual funk, and progressed to acceptance that it will soon pass.
It has been difficult to be optimistic this year for many reasons: Thousands continue to be killed in on-going wars in Ukraine and Gaza. The mindless brutality of those conflicts, and the human toll they take, is breathtaking and I am left to wonder how, or if, they will ever be resolved. To our south, the Presidential election is underway with Trump apparently a front-runner for re-election. Americans, and to a certain extent Canadians, are increasingly divided between the extreme “left” and “right” ends of the political spectrum and those views are so strongly held that I wonder how the country will ever re-unite. That both Biden and Trump are front-runners points to the fact that the political establishment continues to be run by and for the old white guy network of the wealthy and privileged.
Closer to home, it feels to me like Canada is diminishing as a country with meaning and importance for the global community. We have lost the ability to defend ourselves, or even to be taken seriously as an ally. We are no longer even asked to participate. As the world order copes with the ascendancy of China and India, our diplomatic position is still a work in progress. The political climate at the federal level seems to be ready to swing hard right, and I worry what that means as “common sense politics” comes to the fore. (Been there, done that, thanks.)
Meanwhile, our moronic Premier continues to promote boondoggle projects that favour and enrich his political friends while the rest of us deal with a collapsing health care system and growing rates of homelessness and addictions. His latest gambit is the famous “buck a beer” promise made during the last election which will come to fruition – surprise, surprise – just before the next Provincial election.
In the midst of all this, I received an email from the daughter of a fellow resident at Garden Court advising that her Mother Joan was in palliative care with fractured vertebrae “that are not expected to heal”. Joan began the process of securing medical assistance in dying (MAID) and died December 4.
Joan was in her early nineties. She was from Wales and embodied the “stiff upper lip” determination that often characterizes that generation. She was intelligent, thoughtful, outspoken and wickedly funny. I would look forward to meeting her in the garden where we would spend a while chatting about current events or life in general. She was a unique and charming character.
In the days before her death, I sent her an e-mail and she responded that: “… living alone at Garden Court as I grew old and the years of Covid compounded my physical disability . Don’t want to spend the rest of time languishing in a hospital bed and relying on nurses to look after me hand and foot! I’m going on a different journey. Michael and Margaret are supporting me all the way, even though it’s tough on them. I hope you find a sense of freedom. Still lots of time to revel in life. Such wonder everywhere, even now. ”
And so as my seasonal funk begins to lift, I am left to consider the advice of a woman facing the end of her life. Even in those most dire of circumstances she was able to see the possibilities for a happier and more enjoyable future for those around her. That alone spoke volumes about her character, and reminded me that, no matter how funky things get at this time (or any other time) of the year, I should not lose sight of the hope for a brighter future ahead.