When my youngest son, Nathan
was about two and a half, someone was at our house and trying to figure out
what he called his grandparents – they were asking him – do you have a nanny
and a poppy? Yes, he said. Do you have a grandma? A grandpa? Yes, he said. They were satisfied with the conversation
but then he also added, earnestly, and I have a TED.
And really…we all had a TED.
He was a wonderfully funny,
creative, and unique individual. He
definitely saw the world in a different way than the rest of us. Whether it was through the lens of his camera
or his love of numbers and puzzles.
Ted came back into my life in
a significant way about eight years ago – when I had my first son John. He was living in Ch’town at the old folks
home and started coming to visit in Souris.
A couple of years later, he moved to Souris. He had his own apartment for most of his last years, but to the untrained eye – he
lived with Dad. I used to say his job
was to go to Dad’s house. He arrived
most mornings around 9 and left at 5 unless Dad had something good on for
dinner.
Together the two of them
fought, bickered, and laughed through the days.
Dianne tells this great story of one day she popped into the house after
work and the two of them were having a particularly foul disagreement about
something. They continued to fight and
snark her whole visit, revisiting the argument each certain they were right in their
loud, insistent way. She said it was
like world war three. After awhile, Ted
said, well I’m going home and Dad said, okay I’ll see you tomorrow.
They really had a good time
together, despite the bickering. I
remember one time Uncle Sandy was home and I asked them about the time that
Sandy hit Dad with the snow shovel and almost killed him. Well that was ammunition for the
weekend. Of course, Dad and Sandy had
competing versions of the story. I left
and came back the next day and they were still fighting about it each convinced
they knew what happened. Finally, Ted
said, pointing at them, look there’s your version, your version and (pointing
at himself) the truth.
A number of years ago, Ted
and Dad befriended a couple of Russian migrant workers from the fishplant. My goodness, they had fun together. Nataliy was an amazing cook and introduced
dad and Ted to yummy Russian food like belini (crepe like pancakes). They went potato picking, chanterelle
hunting, blueberry picking. Ted taught
them English and used to laugh at the games of charades they would play in an
attempt to communicate. We bought Eveginy
a camera for Christmas and then he and Ted photographed everything in
sight! He missed them terribly when they
went back to Russia but continued their friendship through skype.
I feel incredibly blessed
that we had those last years with Ted.
He loved my kids and had such patience with them. A couple of years ago when they did major
roadwork on mainstreet, I would drop the kids off to Dad and Ted for a couple
of hours so I could get some work done and Ted would take Nathan up to the top
of the street so they could watch the roadwork.
How lucky Nathan was to have a great Uncle with such patience.
He would take him outside and
Nathan would drive around Dad’s backyard in his little purple car. Ted would photograph their watergun fights
and help them find interesting rocks and bugs in the back yard.
And of course, I am not the
only one with the great memories of Ted, the uncle. It is unanimous among the cousins that he was
cool and fun! Greg and Alaina both fondly remember when he lived with them that
he would take them every Saturday morning to feed the ducks, have breakfast at
McDonalds or to the park. They remember
his quick quick wit and fun personality.
As Alaina said, He was always patient and kind and FUN! he was a big kid
himself and we loved him for it! Ted could always make me laugh.
My most vivid recollection of
Ted from when I was a kid was around his car.
Remember that old Ford car. I
told Ted in the last week of so of his life that when I was a kid I thought he
and his car looked alike. They were both
long and lean and incredibly cool!
Last week on FB, I saw some
of my cousins share their memories of Uncle Ted. Sandy’s son, Glenn said: “My childhood hero has
moved onto bigger and better things, the man that gave me the shirt off his
back cause I thought it was cool. He was an inspiration on how to live life to
the fullest. I will ALWAYS remember him for the smile on his face and life of
the party.”
And clearly Ted could get
away with things that others couldn’t.
I’m really not a fan of guns and didn’t allow toy guns in the
house. One day when John was about 3.5,
he chewed his toast in the shape of a gun and aimed it at his newborn
brother. Over the next few days, he
turned everything into a gun. I couldn’t
understand why this was happening, so I was sharing this with Dad and Ted one
day. Ted said, Oh well, we watched a
John Wayne movie last week when he was here.
Mystery solved!
Glenn and I were sharing
uncle Ted stories last week and he reminded me of the time his five year old
daughter Maddie came to the Island on holidays with her grandparents, Sandy and
Dianne, and went back to Ontario knowing how to roll smokes, courtesy of Uncle
Ted!
As you all know, Ted was
diagnosed with a brain tumor three and a half months ago. As with his life, Ted took to dying on his
own terms. There was certainly no
elephant in the room when it came to his diagnosis. He was accepting of his fate and continued
live his life as he saw fit right until the end. He took pictures. He made new friends. He ate great meals. He charmed and terrorized
the nurses. I met an old family friend at the grocery a few days before Ted
died. He said he went to visit Ted and
couldn’t believe his attitude. He said,
I was kinda dreading the visit and when I left, I felt better!
The day of his diagnosis,
when we had a quiet moment, he asked me what I was going to tell the kids. I said, Ted.
I’d like to tell them the truth.
He agreed and thought that was the best approach. Dianne and I were both there when Ted told
John that he was going to die. It was
heartbreaking as a mother and also joyful that they were able to address what
was happening in a way that an eight year old can understand. That John had the opportunity to tell Ted him
loved him and to begin to say goodbye.
In his dying, Ted was still
the life of the party – in a few short weeks, many of his siblings came to
visit him, as well his close friends Moon and Stewart Bennett. He was well enough to come to Dad’s house for
lobster dinners. The last time Rita and
Jackie were home, Rita made a Jiggs dinner.
Nothing pleased Ted more than to break bread with family and friends
(and he loved the Newfoundlanders!).
That was definitely one of his most cherished memories of the past few
months.
About five or six weeks ago,
I popped in to see Ted one Saturday morning. He was quiet and introspective and
rather emotional that day. He wanted to
make his arrangements. So we cried our
way through a conversation about the obituary, where he would like donations
made in his name, the wake and his memorial service. He asked me to do this eulogy and then said,
but I don’t want you up there talking about what a good man I was. A kinda laughed and said, well could I temper
it…cause you were a good man.
But what Ted was saying, is
like all of us, he was not perfect. Ted
struggled with mental health issues for my whole adult life. He was often paranoid and tortured. He was suborn and obstinate. He hated to admit he was wrong.
At certain times, his anger
was visceral and he just couldn’t see that his family was trying to help him
out. He raged against taking medicine,
doctors, and any sort of therapy.
I’ve discovered the common
theme with Ted is that he lived with and fell out with most of his siblings
over the years.
Ted spent a lot of time in
the past weeks and months of his life reconciling with those who loved him
enough to try and help through his dark days.
Once he forgave, he said on a number of occasions that he couldn’t bring
back that rage and anger, even if he tried.
Ted was a mystery to me in a
lot of ways. He was like Newton’s Law of
Motion. For every action, there is an
equal and opposite reaction. He loved
his family dearly and yet completely lost touch with his biological children. He loved technology and was convinced it was
evil. He was utterly charming and full
of rage. He laughed quickly and forgave
slowly. And it is that whole complicated
person that we are here to celebrate today.
It is impossible to talk
about Ted’s life and not talk about his photography. Ted was a photographer long before everyone
had a digital camera. He was old
school. I remember his camera bag when I
was a kid – it was full of filters, and lenses and different flashes. He knew what apertures and f-stops were and
how to use his camera to make and capture the beauty he saw in every day life.
He shot so many pictures of
my kids – I could always rely on him for the
Birthday parties, Christmas
morning.
I learned so much from him
about to see beauty in every day life.
My cousin Barbie shared a
story with me about her love of photography:
She had taken Ted outside in a wheelchair so he could have a smoke and
they were chatting about photography. He mentioned seeing some of her pics as
Photo of the Day on Compass and that they were quite good. So when they got settled Barbie took her iPod
out of him purse to show him pics. He commented on many of them and she said
sometimes I think I just get lucky with my shots. His response was there is
only you and your camera, capture every moment because one never knows it might
be good, there are no rules, only great photographs.`
He documented the life and
times of the Roach family – not only with his photographs, but he scanned many
of the old family photos with the intention that we will all have copies of
them.
He and Dad went to the
graveyards in his final months so he could take photos of all the family
tombstones. Ted photographed to document
daily life, to capture beauty and to keep the family history alive.
On Jan 1st, 2008,
Ted sent a bunch of us the following email:
the view from the ole folks
home
it snow again yesterday so
bad they closed the liquor store
now "that" by pei
standards is a bad bad day
got a good bunch of snow outside
the door now
about 3feet on top of the
picnic table
bright sunshine and cloudless
skies
what a beautiful day
the sun shining bright on new
fallen snow
no traffic on the roads
everything is closed
everything is quiet
no footprints in the snow
happy new year
takes me back to those days
of yesteryear
when the snow was over the
power poles
of course they were much
shorter then
but so was i
maybe just this year we will
have one of those
ole fashion winters with snow
20 feet high
so i can enjoy at least one
more big one
lots of snow and mild
temperatures
this will be johns first year
of real snow
the last 2 were quite mild
and snowless
what a day for a photo shoot
photos today would make great
black and white photos
so many shades of grey
was thinking of a course i
took at one time
in developing film
to change shades of grey took
hours
what with the chemicals of an
unknown poison
hand set timers ... trays of
water ... red lght bulbs
in the darkroom
today
slider on the computer
program [seconds]
what great times to live in
Robert Fulgrum said, “Photographs are precious memories ... the visual evidence of
place and time and relationships ... ritual talismans for the treasure chest of
the heart.”
Ted understood this and his
photography is his legacy. And with
that, I’m going to give him the final word in this eulogy. And wouldn’t he just love that!
Cue: Slideshow
Before we close today, I want to
say a special thank you to the doctors and nurses who cared for Ted with
compassion, patience, good humor and dedication.
To our friends, family and hospice
volunteers who sat with Ted in his final week, we are forever in your
debt. There came a moment when I thought
“oh dear God, how are we going to do this…and then you all appeared.” One night Dianne’s oldest friend, Debbie, said
to me, when I thanked her for spending the night with Ted, “Oh dear, I’m happy
to help…we’re all family.”
And thank you for coming to this
celebration of Ted’s life.
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