Ted, Gido, Grandpa...all of these names I've used to describe the strongest man I've ever known, who at the ripe old age of 87, passed from this world to begin his next journey.
I had the opportunity to race down to Two Hills on Thursday evening, after receiving a phone call from my sister, Debbie, informing me that he had suffered two consecutive strokes, and it would probably be my last chance to see this beloved patriarch of the Semeniuk family, as he wasn't expected to survive another day.
In all of his 87 years, despite a massive stroke when I was a child, despite the heart surgery, and various cancers, those last few hours I spent in his presence were the first I've ever seen him incapacitated, unable to move or speak, unable to respond. It was the first time he ever appeared weary, and though he'd fallen in to a coma before I was able to arrive, I was comforted to see him at peace - stricken but not defeated.
Comforting my Baba at his bedside, with tears in her eyes, she proudly told us stories of how he was just hours earlier, struggling to talk he asked about each individual member of our family - if I was enjoying University, how all of his grandchildren were, even the secret stash of Halloween candy he'd won at Bingo and was saving for them. Even as his body continued to fail him, he remained strong willed and proud. When my Baba, wearing a cast on her arm from a fall, tried to feed him, he told her lovingly in Ukrainian, "I can feed myself...you've got enough to worry about."
I've shed many tears over this man I love, and there will be plenty more in the days that follow. His strength will always be there for me to draw upon, and his compassion for those he loved is the greatest lesson in selflessness I've ever experienced.
87 years of life, and love to spare...we should all be so lucky.
Currently: Playing Zelda, 'cause life continues to move on.
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