Last summer ... or was it before? Yes, the last in 2006. That summer, for my birthday, I am invited to a celebratory picnic surrounded by dozens of cats on the way Luke. This is the kind Lise overflow of attention to me since our collocation in Montreal. The evening promises to be beautiful and, surprise! Christine is the game! I have not seen for ages ... describe how the "first impression" that always accompanies his appearance? For me, pre-adult a little timid still looking for the impact of my presence on the world, Christine was not a "model" (because it takes an incredible self-confidence to assert themselves as her!) but a sign that the development can take many different forms and most colorful. A sense of control impulsive accompanied by a nonchalant wave of freedom emanated Total my big cousin with matted hair, nose ring, tattoo on foot. I remember also that during this summer supper, we discussed tattoos: she wore discreetly three black lines at the base of the hair, and while I'd just make me painfully inked foot, Christine told me how she casually s 'was self-tattooed here oh how non-fleshy human anatomy. Unbounded admiration from me for her.
Last Christmas comes to me, from the way Luke, a new invitation to share the family table for dinner time. I am for the first time in years, and I realize now, for Last time also, in the presence of my sponsor and my two cousins, simultaneously. Dinner with Stephen, Christine and Rejean, the atmosphere, the energy that flows between father and children, is difficult to describe. But I can speak to Christine, the funny cousin to look a little eccentric, whose enthusiasm never seemed to dry! Listening to him tell his expeditions, I could only think about Aznavour:
The bohemian, bohemia
That meant we were happy
The bohemian, bohemia
We only ate one every other day
Exhausted but excited [...]
Was it we love each
And we love life
bohemia, bohemian
That meant we were twenty years
The bohemian, bohemia
And we lived the zeitgeist
Today Christine is no longer at the end of the earth to run organic farms, it does not plant more trees in British Columbia and New York no longer sees his truck or his Christmas trees.
We, today, to wish him without remorse, without baggage and heart free, a good trip to dreamland. Believing in God and wish to Christine eternal rest would not make sense to me: I'm in Christine and her energy, and I wish him a wonderful last trip. Yes, this is the toughest of all for parents who hail, heavy heart, but as Christine often told, a trip is an adventure!
* In Memory of Chris Benoit-Belisle,
May 28, 1982 to May 15, 2008 *
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