Argh! Shane's sense of organization is not what I'd call organization!!!

It's been 11 days since Shane died.  Unfortunately, I do count back to the days when Shane was alive.  I try to avoid staying up past 01:44 am, because that's when Shane breathed his last couple of breaths.  Right now, I've been trying to reorganize my life.  The amount of stuff to be taken care of is intimidating - running a household on my own as a single parent.  And, of course, I have to take care of Shane's things and all of the documentation that is associated with getting ill, dying and death itself.  That's when I fully discovered Shane's major method of filing:  putting papers into plastic bags and throwing them onto our huge filing cabinet.  On top of it - not inside it.  I guess that I should be thankful that he kept the stuff within the vicinity of the filing cabinet.  Bleh!  Thankfully, my folks are still around in the GTA (Greater Toronto Area), so my mom acts as my "grief sherpa" - providing comfort & support when I need it, casting her beady eyes at each necessary transaction/procedure that all survivors have to go through to "finish up the deceased's life".

The kids returned to school on the following Tuesday after Shane's funeral.  I gave them Monday off, because the weekend of Shane's visitation & funeral and Chinese New Year's Eve left us reeling from fatigue, physically & emotionally.  The girls seems to have adjusted to their regular school routine, with the beneficial support of their teachers and classmates.  But, my son still feels the loss of his Dad quite strongly, especially at night.  He's getting much better as time goes on.  At least, he's started to sleep in his own bed again.  I was getting tired of being kicked at & wrestling with the bedcovers during the night.  I never fought over the bedsheets with Shane.  He was a very easy & predictable sleeper.  I could sometimes tell what time of the night it is, by which side he was lying on - just like a rotisserie chicken, right side, back, left side, stomach, DONE!

Anyway, a shower of thanks to my cousins who helped me purge all of the medical waste and health care equipment, within the 2 days after Shane died.  I really didn't want to have any of it around, because it reminded me too much of Shane's suffering.  As his health declined, the supplies and equipment increased dramatically in number and complexity, inundating us with boxes of health care stuff.  Near the end, I was tossing them everywhere in the master bedroom and bathroom.  I didn't have access to my walk-in closet, because it was filled!  So my cousins swooped in and helped me arrange health care equipment pick-up and boxed all of the unused medical supplies.  Thank goodness, the local pharmacy took all of Shane's medications,  all of them!, for proper disposal.  I was warned to give all of Shane's narcotic analgesic drugs to the pharmacy, because it wasn't safe to flush them down the toilet  - it'll pollute our water - or chuck them into the garbage - drug addicts have been known to scour garbage dumps for drugs that had been improperly disposed of.

It was harder to donate Shane's clothing to Goodwill, but my best friends came on Saturday to help me with that, too.  I'm not getting rid of all of Shane's things, but frayed t-shirts and holey underwear... TOSS!  I still have Shane's karate gi uniform and black belt.  My aunt suggested for me to put his karate stuff in the casket to be burned at the crematorium, but I didn't think that it was necessary to follow that particular Chinese tradition.  It is traditional to burn paper money and paper-mache items to represent material things in order to ensure that the spirit of the deceased has a lot of good things in the afterlife.  My aunt thought that Shane might have wanted his karate uniform, because karate played a huge part in Shane's living life.

Anyway, here is my speech for Shane's funeral:

January 22, 2012
My husband was a quiet, unassuming man.  He never made a humongous fuss over anything.  But, somehow, this beautiful, sweet man managed to touch so many hearts, so many lives in his lifetime.

I only knew Shane in the 14 years that we've been together.  My husband is somewhat of a geek; a nerd.  He really liked playing around with computers.  He enjoyed reading sci-fi and fantasy novels.  He played role playing games with tiny action figures.  He was not socially adept at human interactions (awkward!), but he was generous and kind.  His favourite place in the house was his man cave in the basement, where he had a massive network of computers linked to his big flat screen TV, Blue Ray player and stereo system.  Each family member has his or her own personal computer.  Shane introduced each of our kids to the joy of computing by the age of 14 months.  It's fortunate that he married a wife of similar interests; a nerd in disguise.  When he talked about our first date to his childhood friend, Richard Pickles, Richard said, "Uh, oh.  I think that I'm hearing about the future Mrs. Boyce."

Shane, prior to any cancer treatment

Shane had three passions in his life: our family, computers, and karate.  I don't think that I have to tell you that Shane was a good father and husband.  You can see that truth in my children and in me.  And Shane had already generated this reputation of being a great computer geek.  But, I can tell you about his karate, a passion that he and I shared.  Shane had been involved in karate even before I met him.  His adept technique and expansive knowledge was well recognized among his peers.  What was it like to have two black belts, husband and wife, in the family?  We quickly learned to argue very carefully.  I wasn't afraid to spar with Shane, but I knew that he would win every fight, because he was quicker, stronger, and more agile than me; a better fighter than I would ever be.  Shane had instructed many of our friends at the Academy of Martial Arts.  He led classes and belt gradings with confident competence.  If you had never heard my quiet husband call out in the dojo, I think that you would be surprised by the clarity and intensity of his voice.  Shane practised many of the tenets of the martial arts in his everyday life: especially Honour, Integrity, Loyalty.  Unfortunately, Time was taken away from Shane's life because of his cancer.

I've seen Shane at his worst and I've seen him shine at his best of times.  The time that proved to me that my husband was a cut above the rest was the last two years, during his battle with cancer.  Shane never whined or complained about his suffering.  He bore his physical travails with determined fortitude.  Even during the last days when he was still himself, he thought about how other people were affected; especially his loved ones.  When his friends and family visited, even though their company sapped his energy, he knew that they needed to see him and he waited patiently for them.

Throughout our marriage, Shane & I always have this conversation, almost every week.  I always asked my husband, "Shane, you know I love you, right?"  And he'll say, "I do."  Then, I'll ask, "Shane, you love me, too, right?"  And he'll say, "Yes, I do.  Why do you always ask me that?"  And, usually, I never answer.  I just smile.  I always asked Shane the same questions over and over again, because I loved hearing him answer in his quiet and serious manner.  Even though Shane is not here, I still ask him those questions.  And in my mind, I can still hear his quiet reply.

I miss my husband.  I miss his quiet strength, his kindness, his presence, but not his love.  Because his love is here.  It is still alive and well.  In our hearts.  In our minds.  In our lives as we continue on without him.

Thank you for being part of Shane's life.  And thank you for coming here to honour and respect him.

Shane, October 2011, on the escarpment.
After visiting Juravinski Cancer Centre.