Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-two months September 25, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:25 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

Two months

Sixty-one days

Sixty-one memories of your smile

Sixty-one wishes for your stories

Two mysterious photographs

Too many days

without you.

.

.

RIPDaddy

Last week a genealogist doing a one name study of Duguay found my dad’s obituary here.  After getting a bit of basic information that could connect into his database, he sent me Dad’s family line back to 1620 in Burgundy, France.  I then did a little additional research.  Dad would have been intrigued, especially to know that at 1672 we share a common ancestor with some famous people: Hillary Clinton (American politician), Tom Mulcair (Canadian politician), Anne Hébert (Canadian author and poet).

 

poem-drip August 29, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:30 pm
Tags: , , , ,

The little tears

that come unexpectedly

swell memories of you

into my throat and

make my eyes drip with a wish

to kiss you once more.

.

.

(just framed and hung my favourite photo of Dad and me- where I’m kissing him at my wedding)

 

poem-one month August 25, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:02 pm
Tags: , , , ,

It has been

one

month

since you slipped gently from this life.

How strange

not to have kissed your cheek

for 31 days.

I still murmur that I love you

and follow your instructions

and can’t believe

you’re gone.

 

poem-dust August 6, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:30 am
Tags: , , , , , ,

Small re-locations reveal borders

Dust thick upon the mantle

My dust

Your dust

Road dust

the universe converging

amidst candlesticks and glass birds

settling on the surface

of my listlessness.

 

poem- named August 3, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:33 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

“Herb had to take me to the hospital this morning,” my mom said.  “My blood pressure was all wonky and I had a headache.  I was afraid I was having a stroke.”

Herb.  My father, who died last week.  I caught my breath.

“Stewart took you to the hospital?” I suggested.  My brother.

“Yes,” she confirmed, her tone suggesting I was being obtuse.  “But everything was all right.  They told me I need to get a massage.  I’m just tense, over the events of the last week.”

She didn’t even know she’d said the wrong name.

I didn’t point it out.

“I’m glad everything is okay, Mom,” I said.

 

poem-lost July 29, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:48 am
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Small voice calling;

creatures crawling.

Hopes are falling.

She’s left bawling,

Must stop lolling

and start hauling.

 

poem-next week July 26, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:24 pm
Tags: , , , ,

“I’ll see you next week, Daddy,”

I said.

“I hope I’m feeling better then,”

he said.

“I do, too, Daddy.  I love you,”

I said as I kissed his cheek.

This week, I hope he is feeling great,

playing tennis in heaven.

.

.

.

This was the 2000th post on ShawnBird.com  I’d celebrate, but I’m not quite up to it, for obvious reasons.

 

poem- gone July 25, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:50 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

My scheduled time to sit vigil by your bed

was one o’clock this afternoon.

I was there, but you were gone.

.

RIP, Daddy.

 

Obituary- Herbert Mosses Duguay

Filed under: Commentary — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:40 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Herb93bday (2)OBITUARY:

HERBERT MOSSES DUGUAY

October 25, 1914 – July 25, 2015

Herb Duguay passed away peacefully Saturday, July 25, 2015 in his 101st year. Herb was a devoted father and husband.  He was the son of Charlotte Coombes Mosses Duguay and David Owen Mosses, but raised as the son of Joseph Georges Duguay in Montreal.  He was married to Alison MacMillan Duguay Baker for over twenty years.  He was married to his beloved Lalita Ortlieb Fuson Duguay for fifty-three years.  He had one daughter by birth, Shawn (John) Bird, and three children by the heart, Wayne Fuson, Stewart (Gail) Fuson, and Naomi Verbonac.  He had 8 grandchildren: Veronica, Shane, Lalita, Jolene, Trista, Charlotte, Nicholas, and Kyle.  He had 9 great-grandchildren.

Herb’s first memory was seeing the World War 1 soldiers coming home in 1919.  Around this time he was run over by a brand new Model T Ford. We are thankful for their high wheel clearance.

He was an avid Boy Scout and saw Lord and Lady Baden-Powell when they came to Canada in the 1920s.

In the 1930’s Herb worked in quality control at Burroughs Wellcome Pharmaceuticals. As a result, he was a lifetime believer in the power of Polysporin.

He built bombers at Fairchild Aircraft in Montreal during World War 2 because the army didn’t want him.  They said he had a bad heart.  They were wrong.  Herb was all heart.

He moved to Vancouver in the 1950s to start up Maco Industries with Reg Baker.  For the next thirty years he travelled through Western Canada selling their products to building supply stores.  He was proud of his ethics and the good relations that garnered him respect and openings everywhere, because he only sold products he believed in.  He was still selling in the care home, pitching his daughter Shawn’s books to staff and residents at every opportunity.

He was a travelling salesman who never missed a school performance or event of significance.

Herb never walked past a child’s lemonade stand without buying a glass and chatting.

He always had a good dog to keep him company.

He was an avid tennis and table-tennis player throughout his life.  Though blinded by macular-degeneration, he still played into his 80s with unerring accuracy.  In the last few years, he was the goalie for the award winning Bastion Care Home floor hockey team.  Until two weeks ago, he walked up 2 flights of stairs each day.

He was proud of the letter from the Queen for his 100th birthday.  He was prouder of the accomplishments of his children and grandchildren.

Herb was friendly, funny, honest, kind-hearted, and loyal.  The world is a less gentle place without him in it.  He was truly a “man of worth.”

Thanks to the Bastion Care Home staff.  You were his favourites.

Herb Duguay (age 85) and Teddy

Herb Duguay (age 85) and Teddy

Herb Duguay (age 70) and Shawn

Herb Duguay (age 70) and Shawn

( ^ In that picture he always reminds me of Maurice Chevalier.  Dad loved to sing Chevalier’s Thank Heaven for Little Girls to me when I was little).

Herb (age 40ish) behind Maco with Kinky the dachshund

Herb (age 40ish) behind Maco with Kinky the dachshund

Herb Duguay tennis champion

Herb Duguay tennis champion

He told me he’d won a big tournament in Montreal once.  I just received this photo which I had never seen.  I wish I could ask Dad about it!  No idea of year- somewhere between 1945-55 I’m guessing.  Let me know if this trophy looks familiar!

From the cast photo of A Nautical Knot performed Nov 30, Dec 1-2, 1939 by St Andrews Operatic Society Montreal

From the cast photo of A Nautical Knot performed Nov 30, Dec 1-2, 1939 by St Andrews Operatic Society Montreal

A Nautical Knot was a comic operetta by William Rhys-Herbert.  Dad could not sing a note, but he was filler on stage.  He used to laugh about it.  I believe it was put on by the St Andrews United Church in Lachine, which held its last service Dec 18, 2011.

Vincent Martin, Herb Duguay, Kenneth Dow Boy Scouts Montreal 1930ish

Vincent Martin, Herb Duguay, Kenneth Dow Boy Scouts Montreal 1930ish

Vincent Martin joined the Merchant Marine and was killed Sept 1941, age 26.

 

poem- grief June 11, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:27 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

You’re right there

but you’re gone.

Imagining the future without you

takes magic out of the world

silences our laughter

slices out our hearts.

You’re right here,

but you’re gone.

Lost to us

at great cost to us

There isn’t enough chocolate* in the world

to assuage this agony, unrelenting.

You’re right here,

but our story is ending.

.

.

.

My colleagues and I are grieving the loss of a great leader.  We will go on with the new again, of course.  But sometimes, before you pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and pull it together, you need to wallow for a while in the emotions you’re feeling.  Loss is painful.  Change is scary.  We’ll get through it, but accepting the grief is healthy, too.  

*some people may wish to substitute a beverage, shoes, or other favoured ‘pick me up.’