Showing posts from March, 2019

29th March, 2019

6 months On this day, six months ago, Nick passed away.   About two weeks later, Matthew and I had to confront the horrific reality of retrieving his stuff from his room in Etobicoke.   Thankfully, Nick’s landlords were wonderful and refunded all of our rent money and even allowed us to return to this room in our own time.   Entering the tiny confines of his space was beyond brutal.   Nick had only moved in there 6 weeks prior, so full of hope for the future and so looking forward to   starting his life, studying at the school and achieving much needed independence from his parents.   Within two short weeks, he made   many friends and clearly relished this opportunity.   Underneath, however, the reality was quite different.   Out of a desire to protect us, Nick did not disclose the fact that he was still experiencing seizures and coughing up blood.   When we arrived on that horrible day in October to collect his belongings, we found several empty bottles of pain medication as

25 March, 2019

Straight Outta Humber: Our thanks to Nick's friend (and Humber journalism student) Rachel Taylor for this one.

18th March 2019

Vincent, as well as our friend (and Nick's old band-mate) Craig Gignac, have recorded a new version of Nick's song You, Me & Labatt Blue. Now if we can just get Labatt to pay us for this, we'd be able to send a lot of kids to Humber.😀.🐠

6th March, 2019

“Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment that was known as Camelot.”   Allan Jay Lerner’s lines from Camelot certainly capture the bittersweet reality of our lives now – where there was once so much joy, there is now so much tragedy and heartbreak that is made all the more poignant by the memory of that previous life, that “one brief shining moment” that is now permanently in the past, a past which is receding more and more everyday as it is overtaken by the gloom of our present and future lives.   There is no feeling of closure and I can’t imagine there ever will be. What is worse?   Having had joy and then having it snatched away leaving you with the painful memories of what was or never having had joy at all and not knowing the pain of what was or could have been?   I want to think that it was better to have had that joy, but the sharpness of the pain produced by its absence sometimes makes me think otherwise.   Nonetheless, I can’t he