It started down the hall from a morgue...

In trying to discover my roots I realize that my committment to this idea of leaving a legacy began down the hall from a morgue. I realized that I wanted to change the world while I was working at a hospice in rural Alberta. My office was in the basement of the hospice, symbollic, really, of the difference in life trajectories of those dwelling on the main floor and those working for 8, 9, 10, 12 hours a day in the offices below. Above my desk, next to the clock that frequently reminded me that I had been there for too long, was a scrap of paper rescued from the recycling box in the children's play room upstairs. On this scrap of paper was a picture of Spiderman battling Dr.Octopus, drawn by child. Next to Spiderman and between Dr. Oc's tenticles I had written, on one of my first days at the Hospice, a fragment of a Bible verse, "Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be..." That was a particualrily trying day, I could not even bring myself to finish writing the verse because I was not all that sure that those who mourned in the rooms above me were really all that comforted. Over time I began to realize the beauty and infinite mercies of this time of life. One of these such mercies is the idea of leaving a legacy. On occasion, one of those beautiful life filled people who have seen almost everything, who have sucked the very marrow out of life, came to the hospice to die and to tell their story one last time. There were also those that seemed to be engrossed right in the middle of their stories, young, suffering from disease and haunted by the future that they would be leaving behind. They came to the hospice to try and write an ending before their story came to its natural end. And then there were those who seemed ready, their story had come to a natural elipses... The End.

I shared my office with the hospice accountant - a stunningly beautiful middle aged woman with an affinity for red shoes and fiery temper. To one side of our office was the office of the house manager. His office was a wonderment! A cavern filled with oxygen tanks, whirring dials and snaking pipes. Christmas decorations, ceramic pumpkins, discarded wheel chairs and cold cement walls. Jerry dwelled in the underbelly of the hospice. Jerry was the man behind the scenes, often overlooked, always underestimated and the person I naturally gravitated towards. He understood the way the world works, the way people work and had the uncanny ability to see the mechanics of everything upon a first encounter be it an unruly dishwasher, a new staff member or business plan. This character trait simultaneously inspired me and scared the hell out of me. Just a little further past Jerry's office, past the kitchen, past the laundry, was the morgue... The morgue was small, windowless, and empty until it wasn't. Jerry asked the tough questions. And so the idea of leaving a legacy began to roll around in my head - what will I do with my life between this moment of realization and the moment I am wheeled into a small, windowless room?