I've constructed and reconstructed sentences in my head, trying to write this post. But I just don't know how to begin.
At the beginning of this month, as I was packing up to leave Edmonton, I received a call from my friend telling me her fiance had passed away from a heart attack. In an instant my friend lost her best friend and the love of her life. His family lost a brother and a son, and his children and her children lost a father.
I hate that I cannot take away the pain and sorrow that comes from this kind of loss. I hate that I can't tell her when she will stop waiting for him to walk through the front door, because I still show up expecting the big red truck to be parked outside. I can only be there to help out where I can, to listen, and to share in good memories and it all just seems so inadequate.
It hurts to see the void that is left in the life of my friend, the children, and his family. It grieves me so very deeply when I think back to when they both met. The excitement after that first date, watching how happy he made her, and to capture on camera those shared looks that showed how much they loved each other. I grieve for the loss of dreams and of planned futures.
I will remember a man who wore cowboy boots, Wranglers and a cowboy hat. A man who made me snort pop out my nose the very first time I met him and has kept me laughing ever since. And I'm glad I take my camera to document the random moments of life. Because now I have pictures that remind me of all the good times. Pictures of fishing for perch with the setting sun and the tipis lining the riverbank, a weary look after demolishing the bathroom, and all the laughing that occured around the kitchen table. And especially of a face etched deep with smile lines from a life of jokes and laughter.
