William, Brian's father fought in WW1.  His medals were in a lovely old wooden box in a drawer in our bedroom.  Brian pulled them out to look at and talk about them fairly often.  He was proud of his Dad.  I believe he hoped his grandchildren might inherit and value this bit of family history.

 Dear Sandy, I offer you my condolences, I know that your heart is broken.  I didn't know Brian very well, but having viewed the photos I see a man always smiling, most often with his arm around you, laughing with you, your grandchildren and friends.  I do hope those memories will carry you through the months ahead as a comfort to an aching heart.

Last night at dusk my son Callum and I went out in kayaks from the cosy little house that Brian and I lived in. Lake Simcoe welcomed us with happy ripples as we paddled under a warm starry sky and full moon. When it was as dark as it was going to get we stopped at a spot in the lake where we could see the lights of our home.

A third of Brian's ashes trickled into the water as Callum and I sat side by side, listening to Nana Mouskouri singing "Try to Remember" (Live at Albert Hall in 1974, coincidentally the year Callum was born). The rest of Brian's ashes are going to B.C. The ashes disappeared under our kayaks and meandered off on Callum's side. I dropped a feather into the warm water after the bag was empty, and it clung to my kayak; so I handed it over to Cal who placed it in the water on his side, so it could follow the light wavy line of ash in the water.

When I could see through my tears I read the poem above this.

I was missing Brian so much after he went into care in a Nursing Home, and found I was having trouble letting myself go so that I could paint.  That had never happened before.  So I joined a class in Gilda's Club and was able to create the collaged image of "Floating", which is what I felt I was doing, sometimes upside down, but expressing myself on a square piece of plywood.  There are layers of images, some written in circles, bits of my turmoil expressed in music, with paint, papers, fabrics and pencils;  my ravens are anchoring me. That was almost two years ago now.

I often find feelings hard to express in words, but can almost always express them in a piece of art.  Thank you God and thank you Gilda's Club for your support.

My brother Arthur and my husband Brian both had prostate cancer. This photo was taken when we were visitiing Arthur and Elinor's cottage overlooking the beach and harbour in Elie, which is in Fife on the East coast of Scotland. 

When we spoke recently Elinor told me she had just taken a walk out to the lighthouse near where this photo was taken.  She had been chatting to Arthur's spirit there.  That's where his ashes went.  It was one of their favourite places.

If you tap the photo you will see the "ladies tower" behind us by the water, This is where ladies used to come with their ladies in waiting to change into their swimwear before "bathing" in the sea.

Elie was where my brother and I went every July for years as youngsters to enjoy the summer with our parents, friends and relatives.  Each year we rented Amphion House and I slept in its "turret bedroom" surrounded by the safety of its thick sandstone walls. 

I'm glad Brian saw and experienced Elie, with its blustery wind and ever changing North Sea.  It has hardly changed in my lifetime.

I knew Brian for 33 years, in the early days Brian, Bob Kane and I helped each other stay out of trouble, sometimes it was hard but Brian was always there to add a smile and a joke.

A giant whose sholders were always there to stand on.

Hugs my big friend, hugs...

~ answering the phone that keeps ringing with "Grand Central Station"
~ hello darlin' 
~ you're worth it 

I know there were more.  Let me know ones you remember and we can add them. 

I believe if it were not for Brian I wouldn't have the career i have today. Trying to stay sober and work in the railroading profession is not an easy task especially early sobriety like i was when i hired on to CN 6 months sober. The day I was either going to quit CN, or get dunk, or both, there Brian was when i got out of the work truck..an angel, who remember where I said i was working, knew i was having a hard time, was worried about me, and made his way there, picked me and took me to a meeting and it was a 25 year medallion :) I loved this man like the Father I never had, respected, and looked up to him from the time we met in Dec. /94. right up until 2 weeks ago as i stood watching him sleep with a bran muffin in his hand..i kissed him on the cheek and told him I loved him. He will be sadly missed by myself and my family who loved him also for how he helped and supported me in AA, my career, and in life in general. R.I.P. My friend until we meet again .. God Bless.  

Such peace.  No pain.  Relaxed and happy.That's how Brian looked after he died.  I had forgotten about that expression on his face. I hadn't seen him look like that for several years, so it was good to see it again.

I think my acrylic on canvas painting "To the Light" may express part of his journey. It feels like a transformation of light lifting him up and propelling him into his next adventure. 

Brian fought such a valiant fight. The photo I uploaded is of my husband Terry and Brian having a laugh at their illnesses. 'Such a deal......!'. What more could anyone ask for in a friend? And such an attitude...... Thank you Sandy for bringing Brian to be with our meetings and my Terry. God bless you both. Ann