Tag: death

Posted on in ageing, family, relationships

How do you want to be remembered?

Toronto Sun newspaper article from 1984 on the life of Fran Gillies by Claire Hoy

I saw an ad the other day that asked the question, how do you want to be remembered? (It was for a funeral planning service).

It made me stop for a moment and think. My answer may surprise you, but I don’t want to be remembered for anything.

When my mother passed away in 1984, one of my Dad’s journalist colleagues at The Toronto Sun, Claire Hoy wrote a column about her and her battle with cancer. Claire wrote of my parents, “They had a dog and lived on a quiet, suburban street, enjoying a quiet, peaceful ordinary life. They’re not people who ever made the newspapers. You wouldn’t see their names in the social columns. They won’t be in Who’s Who. No, John and Fran were just, well, common folks…But I’ve never seen a headliner with more guts than Fran Gillies. I’ve never seen a public star with more desire to be a good mother, a good wife, a good person.”

When my Dad died, The Globe and Mail published an article about him as part of their obit series on notable Torontonians who have passed away. My Dad would have laughed at being called notable, but since he worked as a photographer for The Globe and Mail and helped organize the royal tours when the British royal family came to Canada in the 1970s, I guess they thought his passing was worthy of notice.

I’m pretty sure when my toes turn facing up, there won’t be any newspaper article about me. Probably by the time it happens, there won’t be any newspapers left for that matter. I’m perfectly fine with that.

I’ve never felt an urgent need or compulsion to leave a legacy on this planet. If a few dogs remember me, that would make me happy. Hopefully my kids.

I’ve come to terms with the fact I was destined to live a small life. I like my small life. I love my small group of friends and my family, although sadly my family is dwindling each year, unless my daughters decide to have kids one day.

I like my small daily rituals and activities. Morning coffees. Afternoon swims. Playing badminton on Monday mornings. Walks with Bentley.

Atlantic magazine recently published an article called, “To Get Happier, Make Yourself Smaller”. Author and researcher Arthur Brooks said the path to enlightment is through contemplating one’s insignificance. People tend to believe they need to become bigger to be happy, but when we become smaller we achieve peace and perspective.

I was reminded of this a few months ago when I attended the Celebration of Life for our dear friend Bruno Albano. There were no newspaper articles, medals or accolades, just an outpouring of love in the room for an incredible human being.

I asked my 92-year old friend Pamela who I drive to writing class each week how she wanted to be remembered. She said, “As a pain in the ass and for all the crazy things I’ve done over the years.” I thought it was the perfect answer.

How do you want to be remembered? Share your answer in the comments. And if you are like me, and your answer is you don’t, know that there is peace, happiness and meaning in leading a small life.

Globe and Mail article on the life of John Gillies with a picture of him meeting the Queen of England
Posted on in family, inspiration, lifestyle, relationships

Coming to grips with the five most terrifying words you will ever ask yourself

Author with her daughters on the beach

One of the best Quora posts I ever read was someone who posed the question, “Is this all there is?” The author bared his soul, sharing his story about how he struggled with this question and how the implications of his answer compelled him to make monumental changes in his life.

For many of us, our lives are never ending hamster wheels. Get up. Work. Make dinner. Squeeze in an hour of exercise. Watch TV for an hour. Do it all over again. At some point, we will inevitably ask ourselves, is this all there is?

I know my answer.  While there are days when life’s routine wears me down, I have lived a good life.

I have watched the migration of the wildebeast and zebras in the setting sun of the Serengeti.

I have strolled along the banks of the Seine, the Thames and the Hudson.

I have explored the stopes of a gold mine thousands of feet underground, and hiked to the peaks of majestic mountains.

I have swam with dolphins, raced through forests on dog sleds, and snorkeled with schools of exotic fish in clear sparkling waters.

I have hiked glaciers on mountainsides and ziplined through the canopy of the rainforest.

I have known the love and respect of a wonderful man who has been my soul mate and partner for more than 30 years.

I have experienced the joy of watching my children grow, from taking their first uncertain steps, to watching their chubby little legs race down our hill to the lake on a warm summer’s day, to blossoming into the beautiful, strong, independent young women they’ve become today.

I have cherished friends who know me better than I know myself.

And I have enjoyed the peace and tranquility of living for almost two decades on my beautiful spring-fed lake and all the joys it brings each season.

I hope life brings more adventures, but if this is all there is, I’m OK with that. I choose to find joy each day in my small, simple life, and be grateful for the life I have lived.

This week’s #HappyAct is dedicated to the memory of my sister-in-law, Karen Gillies who passed away this week and who was taken from us far too young. An amazing wife, mother and friend, she embodied kindness and grace. Karen told us that she had come to accept her fate. I derive some comfort in knowing that Karen would have answered the question, is this all there is, the same way.

Author at the top of Whistler mountain
Posted on in Uncategorized

A bagpiper walks into a blog

Man in kiltSpecial guest blog by David Swinton.

Ok, I’ll admit it. When my wife started this blog, I rolled my eyes and said ‘God Help Us’. Why would any person feel she is in a position to tell others how to be happier?

For a while, I even nicknamed it the ‘Crappy Act’. But personally deep down, I knew that there was no one better qualified to accomplish this mission. I have known my wife for almost 35 years. To this day, she continues to amaze me with her positive, energetic look at life. You might not always agree with her take on happiness (what the heck is an Easter Chicken anyway) but you loyal readers still come week after week to expand your happiness quotient.

When she asked me to fill in for her this week, I knew exactly what I wanted to say. After my Mom died over a year ago, I spent a lot of nights asking myself why should someone so giving of herself be taken in such a cruel manner. As with all tragic events, I started to question my own existence and where I fit into this continually evolving saga we call life. As my thoughts drifted more and more, I realized how complicated my own life had become. Between work, hockey practices, 4-H, bagpipes and the general pace of the world these days, I felt myself struggling to stay engaged. What kind of life is that? You only get one shot at it, folks.

So, in response to this, I have decided to focus at least a half hour each day to the appreciation of the simplest things in my life. One day, it might be the cardinal that has mysteriously appeared after my mother (an avid birder) died. The next day it might be the sound of wind whistling through the large pines around the house. One night I might watch a flying squirrel drift into the feeder from the darkness of the forest. The next, read a good book in a quiet corner boiling maple syrup. Laugh with your child as she pranks you for April Fools or savour a cold Corona at 10 in the morning on a hot day. Kneel down while your 9 year old shows you how intricate insect galleries under pieces of bark from a dead tree can be. Explain to her that the simplest of organisms created something this beautiful.

Your assignment this week? Put the world away for a half hour, slow down and take the time to glean a moment of pure joy from your world. And next week, enjoy while someone with actual writing talent takes back this blog.