Alan M.

This post was written on April 14, 2006.

A few weeks back a friend of mine died. He wasn't a close friend, just someone I knew through others. He was one of those people with whom you simply fell in love. You couldn't help yourself. He was bright, funny, good looking and full of life. Whatever he was doing, he was all there in that minute. He was a talented musician, studying music at the University of Ottawa. Al had been battling leukemia for a couple of years, and even though he was diagnosed as terminal late in 2005, he never let his illness get the better of him. He seemed to be doing well in treatment, having some better moments and some worse ones. I didn't know him well enough to cry at the news of his death, but the pain was real enough all the same. It is a small regret that I didn't know more of his condition the last months of his life. I think that I would have liked to have seen him before he passed away. There would have been nothing I could have said or done, and I am not sure if there is anything I would have wanted to say to him. If there is any sort of afterlife, then Al now knows everything I ever thought of him, and there was nothing bad in that.

His death brought to mind what death tends to bring to mind. The meaning of life; the time we spend and waste on making huge issues of the most trivial things while forgetting the things that make life most worthwhile. "They" say that you are lucky to live your life and to have had 3 people who were true friends. I think in that regard I've been blessed far more than most. I am a nobody. I'm just an insignificant person living an insignificant life. I'm not someone about whom the history books will ever write. I'm not someone the world will go out of its way to remember. And yet, for all my debts and deficits, for all the things I have failed to do, my life has been rich and full. It didn't take Al's death for me to know this. But Al's life was one that should have been so much more. His talents and personality would have brought the world to his feet. If we could all learn something from the example that Al left us, we should all learn to live in the moment. It is all fine and well to have dreams and goals, but they should remain that which we strive to achieve, not something on which we dwell. I suppose that dwelling on the future is as detrimental as dwelling on the past. Either way, the here and now suffers for it.

I won't try to convince anyone that Al was "perfect." I am sure he was as human as any of us, but all the gods of all religions and beliefs hate competition. While I don't believe that only the good die young (after all, I need to believe that I will someday die at all *lol*) I would find it very easy to believe that Al was taken simply because he was the rare sort of person who brought everyone around him together. When I arrived at the funeral home for his visitation, the line up was already stretched outside the room and into the hallway. I arrived 5 minutes after the doors opened. As I wound my way down the line of his family, introducing myself and extending my sympathies, the line only grew. I was there 90 minutes and by that time, the line had extended into the parking lot. Al may not have been famous, but he was a celebrity in the eyes of all those who took the time to wait. I was only glad that it was a closed coffin visitation.

It would not surprise me to see in the future that the memory of Al lives on in other ways. A scholarship in the music department at the University of Ottawa, an auditorium or concert hall named after his memory. And well he should be remembered. Al had a passion about music, a passion about who he was that I have never seen before and with his life against which to compare all others, I doubt I will see again.

Take the time to spend with your friends, to celebrate your friendships, to know that your entire life is judged not just by the public at large, for they will forget you fast enough, but by those who will remember you.. those precious few who you claim as your friends.

Rest in peace Allan Miskell, age 22 forever. The newest bright star that shines in the heavens bears your memory on to eternity and some day, all those who knew you and loved you will join you in celebration. Until then.. Adieu.