Cowboy

Sometimes I just wish I could prepare myself for moments like this. Sometimes I wish it was not true and that I could suddenly wake up and let out a sigh of relief. But it never happens when I want it to. I came to my work early to drop off my backpack before heading to the dentist. When I returned, the nurse I work with whispered to me a sentence that tore my heart apart.

'Just so you are prepared - Bill passed away over the Easter weekend from a heart attack.'

Have you ever had a moment of complete explosion inside your head and everything just becomes cloudy with billions of question marks in a split second? Well that was my reaction. Suddenly my heart sank. And I could feel it drop to my feet.

Bill (not his real name) - a cancer patient from Prince Rupert. A real cowboy. A great singer and song writer. A gentle soul who loved to laugh and make others laugh. I still remember the first night he got his hands on a guitar. The excitement beaming from his eyes - even the bionic eye glowed with happiness. Ignoring the pain in his lower back due to the cancer, he strummed the cords and sang songs that told stories about his love for this nation and his country life. I disliked country music, until I heard Bill sing. His voice was so deep that every time he uttered a syllable it felt like bass on my eardrums. Really pleasant sounds.

He and another patient taught me how to play Cribbage. Most of you probably don't even know what the game is and neither did I. After I became a 'Crib pro', Bill and I would recruit a handful of Crib players every now and then and just have a competitive game. I still remember Bill's favourite line to me when I sat there with a handful of cards not knowing what to do - 'Take a chance, girl. Columbus did.' I truly miss hearing that.

He smoked. But he never failed to signal me every time before he stepped out the door for a cigarette and when he stepped back in. Bill had seven children, including the two who were adopted. One of them was a girl and she would call Bill every night to tell him how much she missed her 'pops' and wanted him home. Whenever Bill talked to me about his daughter I could see his eyes go red and watery. I sang songs for him, like I did for other patients as well. Being a talented musician he really enjoyed sitting by my side while I played the piano and sang for him. Just a week ago I asked him how come he hadn't played for a while and he said it was because I wouldn't sing for him anymore. He said my voice was his inspiration. But I kindly refused to sing - because work was too busy; because I thought I could always sing for him later. Maybe after the Easter break. Two days before the break we managed to sing a little. I got all the patients together and asked Bill to bring out his guitar for a little concert for everyone. He just about jumped with joy. The concert went on for 2 hours and everyone was tapping their toes to Bill's strumming of the cords. That smile that swept across his face - I will never forget. At the end of the mini show, Bill mischievously winked and asked everyone to toss toonies into his cowboy hat.

I promised him another song.I promised him another Crib game. And now these promises are heavy in my heart and weighing it down. I miss you, Bill. And I still owe you a toonie that I will never be able to pay back.

Bless your heart, Bill. Keep playing the country tunes.