July 24, 2017 began as a most productive day. The post for the blog was sent to my trusty Chris the night before so I awoke to find my writing on the web, most gratifying. Fantastic jokes came from David in London which were dutifully sent on. Then seized with inspiration the blog for the next day was written, (the one posted on July 24, 2017). But then on July 24,2017 at 7:51 an email arrived in my inbox from friend Colette with the following subject line: Dad passed away about 3 a.m. this morning. Then, “Services will be on Thursday/Friday. “ It was not an unexpected death, Dad was ninety and in palliative care at Grey Nun’s Hospital in Edmonton.
The Dad is Francois Meunier and was the subject of my posting of June 12 and June 15, 2017. He is not my real dad, I call him my wished for Dad. He has so many kids, so many grandkids and even great grandkids but he had room in his heart for me. It is because he had such a big heart, that did give out eventually but after all. he was ninety. Later ‘sister’ Adele sent an email to many telling them of her father’s death. It contained the following sentence and sentiment. . “The family made sure he was never alone – someone was by his side day and night. I was with him last night and know that he was sleeping very deeply and peacefully until he slipped away quietly around 3 AM.” Now that is a family, that Meunier family. He was a father that deserved that attention, respect and care.
So what did I do when I got the news. Sent some emails but then went and cried on the shoulders of my Trump International Hotel family. Poor Triple C, and the Emperor were major recipients of salty tears on their jackets. Son, the Crooner got to work later but was his vest got real wet as well. Did they come through? Oh yes!! Airplane reservations made for my trip to Edmonton and wise thoughts. Then later a wonderful surprise. Cookies and milk delivered to my room to surprise me. Laundry sent out on a ‘rush’ so that I can go with clean clothes, not a necessity but rather nice.
But then I received a telephonic message from a man called Rich asking if i was OK. I scratched my head thinking: “Rich, I do not know a Rich.” I did not return the call because I did not want to appear stupid. Half a day later I realized who Rich was. Rich is Hottie, my personal trainer. i never call him by his real name. So I called him, I left a voice mail message explaining my dilemma and we laughed and laughed. Then judiciously made our next appointment for this morning actually at 8:30 and several to follow when I return from Edmonton. My knees are working, the man has provided a miracle. Thanks guy, whose real name is Rich.
But speaking of nicknames…sometimes I change them. Now how confusing can this be? The man who is now Prince Andrew of Trump (formerly AJ) is responsible for the relative ease that allowed me to go to Edmonton for the funeral. He and I, for some obscure reason, had a long discussion about funerals about three weeks ago. He spoke of the importance of going and being there, showing up. I argued but listened and then slowly began to see his way of thinking so when I got the email I knew what to do. Go there, Get there. I would be going to Edmonton to honor Francois Meunier. Without Prince Andrew’s guidance I would be lolling about in indecision.
I finish this post from an hotel room in Edmonton. Triple C. called ahead ensuring an upgrade and I am almost on the top floor in a room large enough to party hardy. The bathroom is huge, the bed big and there is even a sofa. Now it certainly is not the Trump International Hotel and the Lion’s Gate Bridge is missing but there is a CN Tower, a huge pink building that says Canada on it, a pyramid, a building crane, lots of buildings and blue sky. I am not complaining. Word from ‘brother’ Dan of an open house at his place in Riverdale. He is being rather coy however and not supplying me with the house number. I am going to find you Dan. I should possibly go find a drug store and buy some Depends. One knows what happens to me when I get around the Meuniers I know that Francois would be happy hearing our laughter ringing out from our sadness. I have six emails from my Trump family already. I am blessed!
I do admit that I have been a little difficult to be around these last few days. Triple C, as usual makes a pithy comment (or two) to bring me back to reality and good cheer.
Triple C. If a man lived around you for any period of time he would be knighted. The poor man!
Me: That would not be sufficient. He would have to be made a multibillionaire.
Triple C. You win that round.
Me: Thanks.
