Jim

We returned from Jimmy's farm today, after a 5-day visit. Jimmy died around 3:30 AM, 3 hours before our plane landed in Toronto. He had been unconscious for hours and was not able to communicate at the end of his life, though he seemed to be making the effort. His 14-year-old daughter Miranda - an extremely brave and mature young woman - was with him until the end of his life. So were his parents, his sister Kathy (a nurse), his brother-in-law Phil, and his daughter Michelle with her baby daughter. Right up to the end, so very true to form, Jim didn't want to be fussed over or ordered around. "Kathy. Just stop it. That's enough." He liked to be a gruff, takes-no-shit kind of guy, but he had soft heart. He carried clippings of his girls' baby hair in his wallet everywhere he went, and he was so proud of all of them. His 8-year-old twins were able to visit for a day when he was still hobbling around a bit. His mother bought him a lovely cane to help him walk, and because he was so guant and had a few days' growth of stubble, he said, "Hey, I'm House!" (a TV doctor played by Hugh Laurie, I found out).
Jimmy was a survivor. Richard once told me about all the accidents he's had in his life - a car crash, putting his leg through a plate-glass window, etc. It was like a list of Evil Knievel stunts. He'd been through so much, but he always had a good word to say about everybody - he could always pick out the good qualities in someone.
We missed seeing Jimmy before he died, but have the comfort of knowing that the rest of his family was with him, seeing him out of this world with tremendous love and sadness. Richard and I were just grateful to be there to offer whatever support we could, and to remember Jimmy as we knew him before he got so terribly sick with the cancer. Like I said, he was a curmedgeon only on the surface. He may have said my hamsters would make good muskie bait. He may have told the massive old German Shepherd, Harley, to stop licking him so damn much, but he loved that dog and Harley worshipped Jim. That dog - and he is huge, the size of a Shetland Pony, almost - was so protective of Jim. He sprawled himself out like a gigantic thick rug directly in front of the couch where Jimmy spent a lot of time at the end. They were a good match - Harley's bark is a lot worse than his bite, too. He looks like a brute, but he's a big, sweet, loyal puppy.
There is no funeral, as there are a lot of details of Jim's estate that need to be worked out and that's enough for the family to deal with right now. He will be cremated, as he wanted to be (in his "Whatever" T-shirt), and there will be a memorial for family and friends sometime this spring. We won't be able to attend physically, but Richard plans to videotape a reminiscence of his brother and send that to his family.
We are worried about the girls. The twins are devastated, and Michelle (who nursed Jim for over a year) is now on her own with her little girl. Miranda is strong, but she loved and admired her dad more than anyone in the world, I think, and his death is going to have a deep impact on her life. You've never seen such caring and loving, selfless daughters. They not only looked out for their dad as much as possible, but they looked out for each other too. Michelle and the twins are going to be wonderful adults, I suspect, just like their dad and their Uncle Richard and their Nana and Papa and their Aunt Kathy and Uncle Phil and their cousins Colin and Megan...the list goes on and on.

It's good to be home. The hamsters have spent two full weeks by themselves this month, and they haven't cannibalized or mutilated each other. Wow. They're even sleeping in the same igloo, tho it must be cramped in there by now.