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My dad was my best friend. We could finish each other's sentences, and we spoke every day of my life about business, politics, life, and most importantly, family.
He passed away last night (Nov 12th) with all of us at his side. Until the last minute, he worked with us on everything from his obituary, to what he wanted at his funeral, and how we can keep his legacy alive (including our strong PEI roots in Georgetown and beyond).
He was the healthiest person I knew, active for 3 hours a day through his late 70s until a sudden AML leukemia diagnosis this spring rocked our lives.
My dad fought so hard throughout this battle, and he never complained. The nurses would ask him how he was doing and he would smile, compliment their "terrific" work, and ask them about their lives.
Late in the summer, the chemo started to work so we had him home with us on PEI where we enjoyed many wonderful days. Unfortunately, this past Friday, things took a turn for the worse and we rushed from our home in Toronto to be by his side. The leukemia had returned with a vengeance, and the chemo was no longer working.
I am grateful that we had six extra (and often tough) months with him thanks to modern medicine and phenomenal healthcare teams in both Toronto (@Sunnybrook) and on the Island (@QEHFoundation).
Also, more than 50 blood transfusions kept him alive throughout this time and gave him more better days than worse (thank you @CanadasLifeline - if you can donate, please do).
My dad's funeral is this Saturday, which will be a celebration of his incredible life. I look forward to sharing more about him, but it will undoubtedly be the toughest speech of my life because you couldn't possibly sum up what he meant to me and so many others in such a short amount of time.
facebook.com/share/p/jtYo6V…
Love you, Dad xo
He passed away last night (Nov 12th) with all of us at his side. Until the last minute, he worked with us on everything from his obituary, to what he wanted at his funeral, and how we can keep his legacy alive (including our strong PEI roots in Georgetown and beyond).
He was the healthiest person I knew, active for 3 hours a day through his late 70s until a sudden AML leukemia diagnosis this spring rocked our lives.
My dad fought so hard throughout this battle, and he never complained. The nurses would ask him how he was doing and he would smile, compliment their "terrific" work, and ask them about their lives.
Late in the summer, the chemo started to work so we had him home with us on PEI where we enjoyed many wonderful days. Unfortunately, this past Friday, things took a turn for the worse and we rushed from our home in Toronto to be by his side. The leukemia had returned with a vengeance, and the chemo was no longer working.
I am grateful that we had six extra (and often tough) months with him thanks to modern medicine and phenomenal healthcare teams in both Toronto (@Sunnybrook) and on the Island (@QEHFoundation).
Also, more than 50 blood transfusions kept him alive throughout this time and gave him more better days than worse (thank you @CanadasLifeline - if you can donate, please do).
My dad's funeral is this Saturday, which will be a celebration of his incredible life. I look forward to sharing more about him, but it will undoubtedly be the toughest speech of my life because you couldn't possibly sum up what he meant to me and so many others in such a short amount of time.
facebook.com/share/p/jtYo6V…
Love you, Dad xo
