Twenty years ago my family had been living in Canada for just over two years. I can’t pretend to know what life was like for two immigrants, one a full time PhD student and father, the other a mother of three children aged eight, six and a year old, trying to make ends meet and keep their children happy while getting used to life in another North American country after living in their homeland for three years.

We found a great church with a vibrant children’s program and my sister and I enjoyed ourselves thoroughly in the groups that we belonged to. I can’t recall now how it happened that were were adopted by one particular couple, Mr. and Mrs. R. Perhaps Mrs. R was one of our Sunday School teachers at one point, or maybe my parents got to know them through worship, but we clicked. Mrs. R was the more vocal of the two, she was the one who would hug us tightly and comment on how we had grown, and laugh merrily. Mr. R was quieter and I can’t remember exchanging many words with him besides the usual greetings. He had such a gentle manner about him, despite being very much a handyman.

Another child was born into my family and The Rs were now “grandparents” to four. It’s all a blur now, but I do remember Christmases with gifts of art activity kits, I remember going to their house for Christmases or Thanksgivings, or just for Sunday dinner, and being spoiled in the way that grandparents do. Mr. and Mrs. R had two daughters who were over five years older than my sister and I, and they were usually not around when we would visit, probably busy dating and hanging out with their friends, all that stuff that teenagers do. To my sister and I they were the cool older girls that we wanted to be like, and sometimes they’d give us jewelry they had tired of, or clothing they no longer wore, and we got to “walk in their shoes” for a while.

We left the west coast after living there for five years and moved to where we currently reside. Through it all, my parents kept in contact with their “mom and dad”. We would get news about them through my parents, usually during Christmas time, updating us on our “older sisters” and their families, and how The Rs were doing health-wise. Unfortunately, as years went on, Mr. R’s health began to deteriorate in different ways, and Mrs. R’s letters would make mention of the latest challenge he had faced. She was always positive and strong, always, and I wonder how she kept going at times.

More recently, we found out that Mr. R had cancer, that it had spread to some organs and he wasn’t doing too well. Mrs. R wondered if my parents could come and visit. My parents made their plans and went near the end of October. Between chemotherapy appointments and dialysis sessions, The Rs and my parents were able to enjoy each other’s company and share some nice moments together. When I developed the pictures from my parents’ time with The Rs, I separated out bundles for them, each of their daughters, and another couple that were mutual friends, anticipating sending each group their pictures along with their Christmas card. Mr. R looked frail, but alright. His quiet nature seemed to shine through in the pictures more than ever.

He passed away on December 7. Mrs. R, always strong, through her sorrow was able to express happiness that his pain is no more and that he’s with God now. I hope she will be surrounded by people who will be a source of strength to her as she has been to her husband, her daughters and to my parents.

Rest in peace, Mr. R.

Filed under: Family by jummy