Though very close for the first half of our lives, we've lived quite a distance apart for a number of years, and had, unfortunately, lost touch.
When I heard of Jim's recent illness, I reached out, and was able to reconnect, through the help of the Arch Hospice Operations Manager, who personally read my letter to him.
This post, which I share now as a tribute to Jim, contains a slightly edited version of my final thoughts and words to him.
James Allen Macdonald
September 5th, 1959 to April 19th, 2016
 |
| Me (left) & Jim - Our 1st Summer Together - 1960 |
Dear Jim,
My heart aches to hear that you've been so sick, and that you are having such a rough time of it! I'm also sorry we haven't seen each other in so very long.
If I were able, I would jump in the car and drive right up to Sault Ste. Marie to see you: I'm so sorry that personal circumstances prevent me from doing just that. I want you to know, though, that I'm thinking of you during this difficult time.
I often think of our more than cousin relationship and how interconnected our lives have been right from the very start. You were my first friend! - We took baths together as babies, and paddled in a blow-up pool together on the front lawn at the house on Samuel Road.
We were young together!
We rode bikes and attended school dances and concerts together. I smile when I think of bonfires at the Optimist Christmas Tree Farm, swimming and ice skating in your backyard on Maple Avenue, and you and Phil hoisting my friend Susan and I on your shoulders to give us a better view of Bobby Curtola at the Gage Park Band-shell.
I remember that you were the person who first introduced me to Phil; and, I owe a debt to you for the three lovely daughters and two special grand-daughters I cherish from that relationship.
I remember, too, that you stepped right in to fill my brother, David's, place as usher at our wedding, when David suddenly died less than two weeks before the ceremony. You were the perfect choice - Phil's friend, and mine and David's cousin.
I remember fondly, the band practices in the attic on Ottawa Street South; the songs you, Robbie, John, Mark, and Phil wrote and arranged; and how much fun you guys had. I can still hear in my head the tune of the "F Minor 7th Swing" that Phil wrote for me and you all played. And, I laugh, when I tell people of the Christmas you and the band played a punk version of "White Christmas".
On the day of your wedding, you showed true gallantry when your emotional and unescorted bride physically couldn't make it all the way down the aisle to you. I was very proud when you rushed up the aisle, embraced Paulette and escorted her to the altar. It’s still a lovely memory to this day.
I enjoyed the days you came to tune our piano, because we got to visit and chat while you worked. I also remember it was you who helped my mom assess my dad's condition the day he had his stroke: She was very grateful you were there to help.
Mom still talks about the day you called her after your heart attack, because her phone number had never changed and you could remember it from your hospital bed. She was happy she could be of assistance to you that day.
I'm sorry you haven't had a chance to meet my new husband, Doug, who finally found me some 6 years ago. He's a special man, and I know you'd like him. He's good to me, my mother and my girls, and well worth the long wait.
I want you to know that I think of you whenever I hear a Beatles tune. You and the Fab Four are forever fused in my brain, and that's a good thing. Today, in particular, the lyrics from "In My Life" mean more to me than ever before.
I wish I could be there to sit with you, Jim; and, hold your hand for a little while. I'll have to content myself with making sure that you know I love you, and will always think fondly of you, my dear cousin and friend.
Love, Nancy
xo
