6 Degrees Of Me

My godmother, Majorie Patter Gimber, passed away a few weeks ago. She was in her 80s although I’m not really sure if anyone knew what her true age was. The Gimbers were my mother’s foster parents. Like I mentioned a few days ago, my grandfather was sent to jail when my mom was about 13 years old. My entire family was on the run for a while and managed to make their way over to the states after about a year. My family found a foster family in NJ that was essentially looking for a kid that could babysit/be a playmate to their 10 year old son.

In the end Pow and Charlie had a huge role in who my mother is today. In fact, I probably wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for them. Pow was awesome. Period. She had a spirit and a fire within her that could burn holes through concrete. She also had this presence about her. A sort of über-grandmotherness. You know what I mean. Like, when you gave her a hug, you just wished she had a kangaroo pouch that she could carry you around in for the rest of your life.

I went to see her a week before she passed. My mother told me that the skin cancer that she dealt with back in the 70s made a reappearance and it didn’t look like it was going away this time. She had been visiting Pow in the nursing home every weekend for about 2 months prior.

When we arrived I could tell she was in some SERIOUS pain. But when she saw that her favorite godson was visiting she manned up. Bigtime. The flame in her eyes grew bright as I had always remembererd. We got into our normal conversation about “marriage” and “when the hell was I getting married” when my mother interrupted. She asked Pow a question about her mail and then stepped out to go pick it up. That’s when I turned to Pow.

So what’s this I hear about you being sick?

Alain my darling. I’m so very tired. I just do not have it in me anymore. So so tired. Sleep — Sleep is divine

Pow, if you don’t live as long as your mother I will be very disappointed.

[twinkle in her eyes]

Granny, Pow’s mother lived to be 102. I was absolutely selfish when I made the statement about my “disappointment”. The twinkle in her eyes was a knowing one. It said “walk in my shoes for five minutes and then come talk to me”. I understood. By then my mom had returned and it was time to go. I gave Pow a kiss on the cheek. My mother offered some encouragement in French, to which I echoed. And we left.

As we were walking down the hall my mom whispered some stuff to me about how Pow was giving up. I tried to keep my head up, thinking that my words of encouragement were enough to carry her through her pain and suffering. They weren’t and I’m kind of glad. She suffered in agony for only another week before she passed away.

Kind reader, it has been my custom over the past few months to donate a portion of my paycheck to charity. I usually take the amount that I donate and split it in 1/2 and choose 2 charities. This time I decided to donate the full amount to the American Cancer Society. I got a nice refund from the gov this past week also so I took 10% from that and also added it to the total. I elected to have the funds directed towards cancer research.

Unfortunately, money and research don’t have time altering characteristics embedded within them. They can’t be applied to the past, nor can they change it. But my constant hope is that whatever little bit that I give will have an impact in finding treatments and cures for these various diseases.

Rest in peace Pow. I love you. I miss you.

Alain

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