Kindred Spirits

I know it's been a while since I've written and will inform you all of all the changes that have gone on in my life in the last year, both good and bad at a later time. Right now I want to tell you about a Kindred Spirit of mine. His Name is Vic.

I met Vic at a Karate function a few years back, and just happened to find him roaming about the area where I live and offered him a lift. It's hard to talk about him with out discussing Karate, which we did a lot. He was also my Sensei for the past year. We did spend a lot of time discussing Karate Theory, Bunkai and Oio, The great teachers of old and of new and anything to do with Martial Arts in general, even if remotely.

Our relationship was so much more than Karate. We would spend hours around his kitchen table just talking about everything and anything. He'd talk about his Grandmother who was Italian and called every noodle Macaroni, His Grandfather who spoke “the old tongue” only when he wanted to discuss something in front of him that he didn't want to him to know. He regretted not being able to learn Gaelic and had only managed to pick up a few words. He'd tell me stories about the places he'd lived and some of the things he'd done. A lot of which I'm far too much of a gentlewoman to repeat. He got excited every time one of his black belts came to visit and tell me all about it. He'd tell me stories about his wife and his daughter, both of whom he spoke with such reverence and admiration I was pretty terrified to even spend time with his daughter.

We went everywhere this last year together. We went on excursions weekly somewhere new. If I went to the grocery store he came with me anytime I'd leave the house he would come along. My friends started calling him my shadow, or “my husband”, which he was mistaken for once by a 11 year boy much to his amusement and my distress. I enjoyed having him around. We could talk for hours and loose track of time, or sit in silence and just enjoy being in each others presences.

We also watched the stars together. Last year I had learned that we might have the chance to see the northern lights. I picked him up in the middle of the night and drove out of the city just to see if we could catch a glimpse of them. We never got to see them, but he told me all about how to tell the difference between a planet and a star, (stars twinkle planets don't). He talked of the 7 sisters a star cluster warriors and hunters used to use as an eye test. (I'm blind I couldn't find them). Once driving home from Karate we both mistook a plane for a planet and laughed our asses off. Real Junior astronomers we were.

It was a good thing that he wasn't just my Sensei, because I probably would still be doing push ups for the amount of times I called him an ass hole. (Always jokingly and with love). Like the time he broke the cane seat that he bought (probably from a yard sale or second hand store) fell on his rear among the fishing gear and hooks and managed to save his coffee amazingly. He sat on mine. Or the time he kicked a full bucket of worms off the deck that I had just bought by mistake, because he was busy fiddling with his rod. I think he got a kick out of it.

He loved when his daughter checked up on him and told him to wear proper attire. A lot of times I think he wore the wrong thing just so that I'd send him in the house to get a hat or a coat and I think he did the same with here. It made him feel like we were paying attention.

We went camping in the Summer and he loved to warm himself on the fire. My friend and I were concerned that he was going to fall into it or loose his teeth in the flames. When he woke and used the bathroom, we tried to sneak his chair back from the fire. He came back and not to be out done stood there over the fire kinda rocking from side to side or back and forth, jingling his change in his pocket. When we finally went to sleep in the tent. (much to my relief he had brought PJ's because he had joked he was going to sleep in the buff. They were Skip's PJ pants. How he managed to fit them is beyond me. They were unisex) He got up in the middle of the night and accidentally burnt all the kindling. He must have noticed sometime around dawn, because he went lumbering through the forest looking for twigs to break to replace the kindling. He had cake for breakfast as it was his birthday (the night before we had burgers for dinner with cake.) I made us coffee (his hands were always too big to fit in the container) and then we went fishing and then for a drive.

We liked to fish, and did a lot of it. In September we went fishing for salmon in the rain for hours. The only place we had to keep our smokes from getting wet was in his back pocket. Every time I wanted a smoke or he'd want one I'd have to fish them out of his back pocket. (His hands wouldn't fit.) We laughed a lot about, “It's been a while since I've had a woman that close to my ass.” he smirked and giggled about. One time when we were fishing we spied a folding chair that he wanted. It was across the mouth of the creek and he didn't swim. The water wasn't that deep but the water was moving quickly and he didn't want to get caught up. I peeled down to my undies (making him promise that he wasn't going to tell anybody he saw my undies) and waded into the water, across the way and retrieved the folding chair for him. He kept it and dragged it home.

Only two things I found out scared him, One was drowning and the other was holding his grand daughter for the first time. This great big man with great big hands was really afraid of hurting his newborn grand baby. When he finally held her in his hands he stared in awe at this little precious life he held in his arms. It was amazing to watch him fall in love. Something if you have never experienced watching before is indescribable. I was happy I got to share this moment with him.

I took him to my parents house a few times where he borrowed my dad's binoculars and sat still as a stone for three hours watching the lake and all the wildlife and birds. I took him to the cottage my parents rented so we could fish and see the wildlife there. We caught nothing and ended up going home because he had worn pants and a long sleeve shirt, short sleeve and fishing vest in 30 degree weather. He got heat stroke and slept until we got back to Oshawa. He wanted to wear the vest that his daughter had bought him. He loved to show it off.

On my birthday (December 12th) he phoned me and sang me happy birthday and had something special for me. I was supposed to go over later that afternoon or evening and have coffee with him. He was excited and in good spirits. He never texted me back. It was the last time I was to hear from him.

I drove him to Karate every Monday for a while and went to pick him up. Concerned that I hadn't heard from him. There was a pit in my stomach, that had been there for a while. I hoped that he had gone over to see his daughter and grand baby. I hoped that he had forgotten to pay his phone bill and that's why he never called me back or texted me. I hoped that he maybe lost his phone (which he had done the week before and I found for him.) I knocked and waited for him to holler at me to come in. (I was long passed knocking. Usually I just walked in, but something made me hesitate.) I took a big breath, screwed my courage to the sticking place and went in. I found my friend, my shadow, my Sensei, my buddy, on the floor.

That image will probably never fade away no matter how much time passes. But ever time I see it in my minds eye as clear as a snap shot I remember. I remember the way his eyes twinkled when he was really amused by something, or the way they lit up when he had a brilliant idea. The way he loved to laugh which to me a lot of times sounded like Ernie. The way this giant of a man never made me feel small in any way. The way he'd reach down his great big hands to haul me up over an embankment. The way he was always around to help me around the house, changing smoke detector batteries or putting up my gazebo or some other thing. The way he would curse like a trooper fishing as he tangled the line or hooked a tree or himself for the hundredth time that day. The way that he always made time for me and I for him. The way he loved the stories that I wrote about the fish that turned into a dragon. The way he ran out of the grocery store with an arm load of Knockwurst after searching for a frigging year like the lady in the IKEA commercial who yells start the car! The way he took care of me, and the way I took care of him. These things I remember. Every day.

We were Kindred Spirits. The words I miss him seem so cheap and so flimsy to describe the way I feel. Although I wish I had met him sooner, I was so very grateful for the time that we spent together.