Connections

The sun’s warmth and early arrival coaxed me out the door while most people were still sleeping. The oft-taken route of my now frequent walks included a number of tree-lined city streets packed with parked cars, white ones being very popular, and a large park adjacent to a river. The morning quiet was like a shroud and I began to wonder why I hadn't taken advantage of it before. Retirement, six months earlier as a psychiatric nurse, provided opportunities for more exercise and focusing on new experiences, especially photography. Entering the park, I saw a tall, thin man in a dressing gown and what appeared like slippers. As I got closer, his movements were erratic, walking in one direction and suddenly another. He did not respond when I smiled and raised my hand as a greeting. My level of concern ramped up when he started to yell obscenities at a squirrel chasing another one. I quickly said, ''hi, you are an early morning walker like me.'' Simply saying those words seemed to calm him and he asked my name. ''I’m Walter, Walter Smishek.'' His response was almost immediate, ''my name is Warren and I live near here.'' Pausing, he seemed to realize there was something amiss as he tightened the fabric belt on his Black Watch tartan housecoat, and said, ''nice to meet you, but I must be going as I live in a senior’s residence on Larose Avenue and it will soon be time for breakfast.'' ''I am walking that way myself and I’d be pleased to join you.'' ''Sure, that sounds good!' -2- As we made our way to the building, Warren told me some significant details about his life. ''I was married for almost thirty-five years, my wife Emily dying at the age of fifty-six. I’ll be seventy-five just before Christmas. ''I also lost my only child Rita who drowned just three years after my wife passed away.'' ''I’m so very sorry for your losses Warren. I can’t imagine how difficult they were.'' In a sudden burst of energy, he practically screamed, ''I love films. I remember talking my parents into letting me go to a theatre that was showing films all night long. I was only fifteen that summer, but they had confidence in me. I think that view seeped into my being as I felt I could deal with pretty much anything that came along, until of course I couldn’t.'' He left this last comment dangling as we sauntered up the walkway toward the red brick residence’s main entrance. The door suddenly opened and a tall woman in business attire appeared. Her smile was big and welcoming. ''Warren, it's good to see you. We were a little concerned about where you were.'' ''Oh you people! But I guess that’s your job.'' He added, ''I was just out for a walk and met Walter, a friendly guy,'' as he cruised by her and blithely entered the building. ''Good morning Walter, I’m Patricia Patriquin, the administrator, and I want to thank you for accompanying Warren back here. ''I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name.'' ''It’s Smishek.'' ''Well Mr. Smishek, Warren appears quite comfortable with you. He is a retired accountant, is generally very quiet, and has virtually no visitors.'' -3- ''Understood! He did mention the loss of his wife and daughter.'' ''If you would like to continue the conversation with Warren, and I imagine he would like that, please call,'' she said, handing me her business card. Later that day, as I reviewed photographs I’d taken for my wife’s clothing store, I thought about Warren and the significance of the losses he spoke about. I quickly put the brakes on analyzing his situation as I was fully aware how little I actually knew. But there was something about him that suggested he would be interesting to get to know. A week later, I called Patricia and agreed to drop by in a couple of days. She mentioned she had spoken to Warren and he liked the idea of walking with me. Patricia also informed me that I would need a police check, a standard operating procedure these days for volunteers, as she put it. So there it was, the following week; I was deemed safe to volunteer and was shaking Warren’s hand in the lobby, this time after breakfast. Small talk dominated our first few walks, always taking different routes. Getting to know Walter was fairly easy as he was direct in his comments and answers. I appreciated his interest in my life. He was quite excited when I told him my son was in his second year of a Bachelor of Accounting program at Carleton University. At a small restaurant, a few weeks later, as we enjoyed a delicious vegetarian meal, Warren blew me away when he told me about a stock market investment. ''I made a lot of money almost twenty-five years ago. When Emily was first diagnosed with cancer, I looked for a way to acquire additional financial resources should she need them. A good friend, who was a stock broker, advised me to buy shares in Nortel Networks. ''I acquired as many as possible, but the broker warned me that the key to success is to understand what goes up must come down.'' I smiled, as I thought about the song Spinning Wheel by Blood Sweat & Tears. -4- He then added, ''I partially remortgaged our house and bought 2,000 shares late in 1998 at just under $25 each and sold them in January, fifteen months later, only days after we all survived the much hyped Y2K scare. They were at $175 a share.'' But then his mood darkened, as did the sky we could see through the large windows, and he spoke more slowly as he lowered his voice. ''Six years later the cancer returned.'' Continuing with a voice that cracked, ''it was more virulent and in a little over twelve months we lost her. ''My daughter Rita, who was so excited as a teenager when her mother seemed to have beaten the cancer, was devastated when it returned. ''When my wife was sick the first time, we sent Rita to a psychologist because of her reaction. At times, she seemed hopeful and had a positive outlook, but then it was as if she was in overdrive. Talking at high speed, easily distracted and jumping from one subject to another. ''The psychologist thought it could be a form of bipolar disorder, but as things got better for her mother, Rita no longer felt the need to see someone about a possible diagnosis.'' I nodded and listened attentively to Warren as I sipped my wine. ''She was an introvert who had few friends and seemed most comfortable by herself. ''Rita was a really good student, but as university came to an end her mental health took a dive because Emily was again sick with cancer. She found it difficult seeing her suffer, with little hope of recovery. ''Still figuring things out, Rita decided to take a program at a community college and work part-time, when she could. ''During this period, I received a phone call from a hospital where Rita had been taken by the police. It was a psychotic episode. This had followed a week where she ate and slept little, spending most of the time in her room and showing little interest in almost anything. -5- ''When things improved for my daughter, the desire for change in my own life began to grow. It’d been a little over two years since Emily had died and I was feeling pretty lonely.'' Not wanting to interrupt the flow of Warren’s story, I refrained from asking the many questions I had. ''On a beautiful sunny day in June of 2008, and I clearly remember,'' he told me, ''I went to a supply centre to pick up a piece of stained glass for a window in the living room. I wanted more colour when the sun was shining. ''The store still hadn’t opened, so I went to a coffee shop nearby to have a muffin and read. To my surprise, I saw Betsy, a former colleague from work who signaled me to come over to her table. There was another woman sitting with her. She introduced me to her dear friend Carla who was visiting from Toronto.'' ''At one point in our conversation, Betsy told me Carla lost her spouse around the same time as I did. ''I was sixty-one and drawn to Carla almost immediately. She was a couple of years younger and had lustrous grey hair, wearing it with such elan. She was well read and a bit shy, but once we got to know one another that melted away. ''Carla and I had lunch together the day before she returned to Toronto. I was shocked at how easy it was to be with her and it seemed reciprocal. I remember thinking afterwards that when you relish being with someone you want time to disappear. ''We talked often on the phone and a few weeks later she invited me to Toronto to see a play at Hart House Theatre, a place of refuge, she later told me, after immigrating to Canada as a teenager. ''Following the play, we got out of the taxi at her place, to the embrace of a warm summer evening. It was a luscious moment. ''Instead of walking to the hotel nearby where I had a reservation, Carla invited me to join her for a drink. -6- ''The next morning, thinking she was still asleep, I put my arm around her and she took my hand and pulled it close to her. No words were spoken, but it was like our connection was sealed. I don’t want to exaggerate, but it was magical.'' ''Warren, I’m sure after all of the pain in your life in the years leading up to that moment, it was indeed special.'' ''Pausing, as he looked directly at me, it seemed his smile belied what was to come. When I raised the relationship with Rita, her response was blunt. Almost with disdain, she told me, I don’t want to be around mom’s replacement. I thought you loved her. So what’s it about? You are both old people so it’s not a question of a family or some romantic liaison. You have to choose dad. ''Rita suffered from bipolar disorder, so I couldn't be absolutely certain if this was just bad timing or if it truly reflected her feelings. ''I waited a while, but her response was even harsher. ''What’s the story dad? Now that mom is gone, do you want a clean slate? I know you seem enamoured of this woman; seemingly unable or unwilling to mention her name. ''I have no interest in meeting her, or God forbid living in the same house as her. You need to decide. But it strikes me as being totally unfair that your daughter, who is still dealing with the loss of her mother, has to even countenance the thought that you care less about her than an outsider. ''When I next visited Carla in Toronto, she mentioned it would be nice to meet my daughter. She had no children, but I had already met her brother and he seemed genuinely happy that his sister was in a better place.'' ''That would have been fun Walter, it’s nice to get to know the larger family if you can.'' ''I agree, but I told Carla that Rita had some significant mental health issues and perhaps in a few months meeting her could work. ''My time with Carla was spent in Toronto and I thought it would continue that way, until Rita told me she’d live on the street if I didn’t stop leaving her for secret getaways with my lover. -7- ''Rita jumped from a bridge on the third anniversary of Emily’s death and when I learned about the rocks in her backpack I fell apart. The note she left was a bit cryptic, but among other matters there was a reference to Carla, hoping I might patch things up with her. ''A couple of months earlier, I had told Carla that I would stop coming to Toronto as my daughter needed me on a full-time basis. ''I was aware it was a hopeless strategy, especially when Carla asked me what I thought I could do. ''She told me directly, Rita’s well-being is in her hands not yours. ''I knew she was right, but I just couldn’t accept it. ''As I left her apartment, Carla was stoic, but glancing back moments later her look conveyed a sense of betrayal. ''In the end everything was gone, my wife, daughter and Carla. ''I let the potential of loss trump hope for the future. ''For quite a while, traveling was a way of escaping so as not to have to deal with loss. Ironically, it was facilitated by the Nortel windfall. It became a crutch and I did a lot of it. ''However, it unraveled a couple of years ago when I was on the train from Adelaide to Darwin. ''The starkness of the landscape going from rich greens to the arid outback was like flipping a switch, taking me back to the turmoil of the time with Rita and Carla. ''I think that’s the main reason I ended up at the seniors’ residence. For so long, I just coasted through life and then realized I could no longer do it, or even maintain the house. ''A few years earlier, Betsy had told me Carla went back to Italy, planning to resettle in the small town she left in her teens. -8- ''The day I met you in the park, followed a dramatic situation that occurred the previous evening at the residence. ''As I turned to leave the main lounge, I bumped into a woman who was visiting. She looked like Carla and was wearing her perfume. I immediately started to sweat and thought I would collapse. I was just able to make it to my room and as I lay down my head was spinning. It was how I felt on the train in Australia and it too lasted into the next day.'' When he finished, I didn’t know if Warren could even move, but the thunderstorm was over and he touched my arm and calmly said, ''look at that beautiful rainbow.''