Tribute

Originally composed: Thursday, July 21, 2011 (Flight AC063 from Toronto to Seoul)


Some anticipated events never come as expected. An oxymoronic statement, I know. The life cycle, however, is full of predictable comings and goings, frequent ups and downs; as much as one may want to solely acknowledge their existential propulsion through the passage of life, some things are simply beyond our control. The incalculable twists and turns, the dramas, heartbeats and heartbreaks are what makes life worth living. Although some great things inevitably tend to have an expiry date, it’s rare that the sour moments linger long on the palate.

I unexpectedly returned home, to Toronto, this past week to be alongside my family as we mourned the passing of my grandfather.* It’s never a good thing to receive bad news. Receiving bad news from 10,000km is that much more difficult. Thankfully, Seoul is a developed city with an easily accessible international airport, and so prompt planning to return home was not overwhelmingly tasking in comparison to wrapping my head around the fact that I never got a chance to say goodbye. 

While the circumstances were not favourable, in the end, I was just fortunate that I was able to get home to be with the people who I love and who needed me as much as I needed them. Just before leaving I was asked if I would deliver the eulogy, something I had done two years prior when my grandma passed away on my dad’s side. This is by no means something to get used to, however, the exercise is one that allows me to reflect meaningfully and begin to put perspective and closure together in an organized way. 

No one ever wants to be left with an occasion to fill such a role, however, I was honoured to be able to memorialize such an amazing man, and speak on behalf of my family in such a difficult time. 

Papa, you will be greatly missed, yet forever remembered and eternally loved. 

This is for you:

Tuesday, July 12, 2011.

Morty Goodman (November 18, 1923-July 10, 2011)

When a loved one passes, amidst emotions and anxieties, it’s the memories that stand out. One attempts to sift out any negative energies and focus on positive remembrance, personal and precious experiences and the overall legacy that must now be preserved. In many instances, there are some negative thoughts, resentments or, potentially even some moments of regret concerning the dearly departed; except in such a case. 

Mortimer David Goodman: Morty, Dad, Bubie, The Friendly Pirate, Jonathan McGillicuddy, our Papa. Though you may have called him something different, in my 23-years of life, I have never once heard a poor utterance of his name. With no attempt at exaggeration, I can honestly say that every individual who crossed paths with my Papa was veritably touched, if not struck by his sweetness, charmed by his demeanor and delighted by his smile. 

A salesman by trade, there was no tact, no gimmicks needed, for anyone to realize the genuine quality of his character. He was caring, committed and concerned for the people he loved, and equally kind and compassionate to complete strangers. There were times where he chose to not say much and there were times where he was unable to tell you exactly what he wanted to say, however, at all times, without any shadow of a doubt, he was listening. One could tell by the way the expression would change in his bright blue eye as he stared intently into your gaze. A subtle nod and accompanied smirk would transform into a jovial laugh that filled the room along with any melancholy vestige that one may have lurking deep within. 

I recall one specific instance where after four months traveling across the country, I returned home and went to visit Papa by myself at Cummer. It was a warm autumn day and we sat outside in the sun together for the better part of an hour. As often was the case, during the later years of his life, I was doing most of the talking, but, the dialogue was resoundingly two tiered. He gripped my hand tightly, gently passing his thumb over the back of my palm as I told him stories of my travels. Laughing wholeheartedly at my jokes, brimming with a sense of pride and understanding, and constantly affirming his earnest interest in my escapades. While this remains a special memory for me, I know that this is a feeling that everyone in my family; my mother, Heather, my uncles, Howard and Alan, my sister, Erika and cousins, Lauren and Ilana, and most especially, my wonderful Grandma Claire; felt on an equally personal level. There are too many moments to count, where Papa made you feel like you were the only person in the room, the one that mattered the most; and no words were ever needed to affirm such a connection.

Papa had a way of making everyone smile along with him. His likability was lovable and one’s affinity towards him was ineluctable. He brought light, love, happiness and devotion into the lives of those who knew him best and we will remember him today as we will remember him always; with a tear in our eye, but with a smile on our faces. He is in the sky today. He is in the sky tomorrow. He is in our hearts, forever.

*This is why I’ve been unable to blog for quite some time. Two busy weeks in Toronto...with lots of eating, mind you, and then straight off to Shanghai for a week where these sorts of services are inaccessible.