The phone calls

Fule for Thought

 

If you’ve read past columns, then you know that one of my biggest life mistakes happened on June 30, 1997. That evening my daughter Breanne and I had gone to Sobeys for groceries. My dad had called from Canmore and talked with Deb and Brennen. When I returned, Deb told me about the call and suggested I call back dad. 

“Nah, I’ll call him back in the morning,” was my response. 

There was to be no call back, as the next morning my dad died of a heart attack while loading his truck and boat for fishing. I had wasted my last chance to talk to my dad. I’d never get that chance again, to tell him how much I loved him, how he was a good father … those chances were now lost. 

Days later, while tidying his place, I played his old answering machine. I had to sit down when I heard his voice, and in a dazed, crying state … played the greeting over and over just to hear him again.

It’s 17 years later, and I still feel guilty of being for not calling him when I had the chance. Deb and I just celebrated our 29th anniversary, and we’ve been reminiscing of those years, and our lost loved ones. 

For the past two years, I’ve wondered if the minister who married us was still alive. We got married in Canmore’s United Church. The new minister had just arrived, and our wedding was to be his first official duty. His name was Bruce, and he seemed to be a very compassionate man. He counseled us on marriage, and then we told him the horrible news that my mother had terminal cancer, and had only weeks to live. In fact, she was told this news on her own wedding anniversary, which was three days before our wedding! 

This new minister, who barely knew us, and had never met my mother, visited her a few times in the hospital! He wanted to comfort her, to ease her fear, and to offer his blessings.

Needless to say, our whole family was a mess. Our happy wedding preparations were clouded by my mom’s impending death. Then, this new minister also realized I was struggling, and took evenings to counsel me with my confusion, anger, and grief. He helped this young couple out in so many ways, in such a short time. He gave me hope that my mom, who had suffered in agony, was going to find salvation, and eternal peace. Our new reverend gave so much of himself that summer of our wedding, and we never forgot him.

So, this week, I decided to find him. We weren’t even sure he was still alive, because he was in his late 50s, 29 years ago. I’m definitely not a private eye, but I googled the “United Church of Canada” website, and found a list of all its ministers alphabetically, their postings, and if they had died. When I found his name, I hesitated … I was afraid to see the word “deceased”. 

It was not there! It showed that he was retired and that his last ministry was in Comox/Nanaimo. I can’t explain how or why this search was so easy, because there in the Internet White Pages, was his name, and that he lived in Parksville!

After several rings, a voice came on in an answering message. It was the same voice! It was a little rougher and tired, but when he finished with “God bless you,” I knew it was him! I l stated who I was, my reason for calling, and left my number. 

Only two hours later, he called back! He was bit hesitant, wondering how I had found him, and I did have to refresh his memory. After that, we had a great conversation, and I told him we had stayed married, told him of my kids, and my gratitude for what he had done. 

In the background, his wife kept saying she couldn’t believe someone would do this, and that “I had made Bruce’s year!” 

Year?!?!? He had helped my life! 

Rev. Bruce downplayed what he had done, but I told him that he had helped a young couple get married, but had eased my mom’s terror, and my anger and grief. He ended by graciously offering us a place to stay if we were out ever out there. I thanked him, and said, “I have no powers or special gifts, but I just want to say ‘God bless you, Bruce, for all you did for us.’ “ 

His voiced cracked a little, and he thanked me. 

I think about the call I should have made to my dad, and this one I did make to Rev. Bruce. I got a chance to thank someone deserving, but there are more calls to make. I have one last maternal uncle living in Calgary. I think I’ll call him again, and set up a visit to his family … there’s no time like the present. 

 

(“Fule for Thought” is a slice of life humourous column that appears in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, town councillor, high school teacher, coach, husband and father of two – Pat Fule. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)