Posted on December 20, 2014 under Storytelling with 2 comments

She fought the good fight

 

 

“I know your life on earth was troubled, and only you could know the pain…”

Go Rest High on That Mountain – Vince Gill

There are some people who cannot enter a room without bringing sunshine.  There are some among us who can inspire, guide and teach with irrepressible enthusiasm.  There are individuals whose failings do not stop them from being born optimists.  And, there are those who, in death, leave a legacy that will stand the test of time.

My niece, Audrey Hibbs, was all of these people.

Her light flickered on February 14, 2002 and was extinguished on December 14, 2014.

Life dishes out a quota of time and it’s up to each of us to find our path.  Audrey was given 39 years and she packed a lot into her short existence on this earth.  She spent the better part of the first third of her life living in Fort Vermillion, Alberta.  She was a gifted and engaging child and anyone who knew her realized that she was destined for great things.

She attended university and then started to make her mark in Antigonish with her involvement in many activities.  She taught religion to young people and was a regular reader at Sunday Mass.  She loved politics and worked for our Member of Parliament.  She got involved in martial arts and ended up a world class Tae Kwon Do practitioner.

And she met Melvin Hibbs.

They were married on June 2, 2001, and by all accounts, it was a marriage made in heaven.  They both had an unstoppable zest for life and, under their tutelage, many fledgling athletes developed determination and confidence.  As one of her students said, “She put others first, always ahead of herself.  She was dedicated, loyal and giving.  Perhaps to a fault.”  She helped hundreds of young competitors believe in themselves, and what better legacy can there be than that?

Early on the morning of Feb. 14^th in 2002, Valentine Day, Melvin left their home to attend to his work as a pilot flying over the pipelines in Colchester County.  Before departing, he made sure that roses were ordered and delivered on this special day.  The card attached to the flowers said it all. “You complete me.”  Hours later we all learned about his tragic death.  And the scarring of Audrey’s heart began.

Her brother, Dave put it clearly and succinctly in a beautifully written obituary.

“Over the past 12 years since that fateful day, Audrey has had her share of ups and downs, sharing in many good days, laughs and days filled with light … as well as many that didn’t pass as easily.  This week, the weight of her broken heart finally caught up to her, physically, after years of struggles with illness and addiction.”

None of us are able to feel other people’s pain even as we witness it on an ongoing basis.  Human suffering defies belief by times, and Audrey’s resilience in the face of so many challenges took our breath away.  She was blessed with a worldwide community of friends and strangers alike who reached out to her.  But what always sustained her was the unconditional love and support of her immediate family, who never gave up and always had faith in her.  Brosha’s Believers indeed.

On the day of Melvin’s funeral, we had a party at my mother’s house on Hillcrest Street.  Over my lifetime I have witnessed many gatherings at my old home, but never did I experience the kitchen floor heave under the weight of 75 people singing their hearts out.  And sitting there, cross legged on the floor, was Audrey.  Above all else, Audrey loved music.  I don’t usually have the stamina to play guitar non-stop for four hours.  During all that time, Audrey didn’t leave the room.  We dragged out every song imaginable and even did a duet of one of her absolute favorites: “Grandma’s Feather Bed”.   Music fed her soul that night and many times afterward.

In her honor we will gather once again, to raise our voices together, on the day of her funeral.  As we mourn, let us also rejoice in our daughter, sister, cousin and friend who saw light on even the darkest day.

“I wish I could see the angels faces When they hear your sweet voice sing.”

 

Posted on December 18, 2014 under News & Updates with 3 comments

Audrey Lynn Hibbs

1975-2014

Posted on December 16, 2014 under Storytelling with no comments yet

The totality of our outdoor decorations

 

 

I hear the opening notes of the Vince Gill Christmas CD and my pulse quickens.

My mixed feelings about Christmas surface once again as December moves into full gear.   For most of us, the notion of family, food and fellowship are the three pillars of the holiday season.  Some folks pay heed to the simple story of Christmas giving, while others see it as a license for a full scale shopping orgy.  Can you say “Black Friday”?  And when I see the neighbors starting to create their outdoor masterpieces, I know the time has come.

Marriage is about division of labour, and nowhere is this more evident than during the Christmas season.  I do a lot of the prep work for Christmas dinner, I deliver gifts to family members and relatives and I put up the exterior decorations. We trim the tree together and my wife does everything else, including buying her own Christmas present from me.  I did not say that the division of labor was equal!

Once the crèche is in place and the advent calendar is hanging in the kitchen, I know that stalling tactics will not cut it.  I must go to the basement and gather up the decorations and assemble them on our front deck.

For many people, decorating is possibly the most satisfying part of the holiday season.  We have friends who go to elaborate lengths to turn their homes and properties into show pieces.  The results are often quite stunning. Some neighbors switch up their entire house to leave no doubt that Christmas is fast approaching.  The sheets on the beds, towels and face clothes and all of their dishes are resplendent with Christmas joy.

And then, there is us.

As we get older we continue to aspire to simplicity.  One thing that we don’t have to downsize is our collection of Christmas decorations, because we have always displayed a minimalist streak.  That is a charitable way of saying that we might possibly have the worst outdoor decorations in the free world.  Just ask our children.  The word that most often crosses their lips is “pathetic”.

In a large pale green plastic tub lies the totality of our baubles: several lengths of fake garland, a half a dozen strings of multi-coloured outdoor lights, and 15 red plastic bows.  Yes kids; we still haven’t discovered the magic of twinkling clear bulbs.  No floodlights, no deer that glitter and move as if they are about to take flight.  Gosh, we don’t even have an inflatable Santa.

I love our front deck.  It is the best part of our house, at least in the summer when a large maple tree and shrubbery provide a cool canopy on hot summer days.  And privacy.  But in December, the front desk is exposed and naked.  There is nowhere to hide, which is problematic for me as I head out to put up the decorations.

I try to choose a day when the conditions are optimal.  It’s not much fun trying to wrap the garland around the railings when it’s bitterly cold, snowing or pouring rain.  I know from years of experience (and a plethora of expletives), that checking the lights is always the first thing I do.  I plug in each of the strings individually in an outdoor outlet.  Invariably, one of them has mysteriously died over the previous twelve months. They must lose their will to live from the constant humiliation I put them through, year after year.

How long does it take to give the exterior of our house the look and feel of Christmas?  Unless I am called in to answer the phone or have to take a bathroom break, it’s an hour.  Tops.  And that includes going to the hardware store around the corner to replace a string of lights.  (And switching the bright orange extension cords for the green ones, in the bag clearly marked “for outdoor decorations” – Editor)

When I’m finished I have this little ritual.  I step out onto the street after the onset of darkness to admire my work, the “miracle of Christmas”, as it were.  But there is no miracle.  It looks the very same as it has for the past 32 years.  I mumble something about “next year it will be different”, but I know deep down that this is a big, fat lie.

Next year we might take the family to Florida for Christmas to avoid the humiliation of being the “worst decorated house in Antigonish”.  It’s hardly necessary to decorate a beach.