Christopher "Gus" Brockbank --- May 13, 2010

I don't have the words today, so instead I will rely on photos to say how much I miss hearing Gus' laugh and feeling his arms wrapped around me.

He was a handsome little man and I thank him every day for his love and honesty.

Four months

It's 2 a.m. on Monday, September 13th. Four months ago today, Christopher William Brockbank would have only five hours left with us. He died at about 7:15 a.m. on a sunny Thursday morning with his family by his side, as he would have wanted it.

It's not that he wanted to die. He really didn't know he was. But we did and each day was a blessing. Having lived for over two years with a brain tumour, Christopher's was a life on loan, to him, to us.

Four months ago seems like yesterday. The tears, still fresh, are shed less each day. It's not that it's getting easier but we're working hard on keeping his memory alive and living the life we would want for him.

Four months, Gus. Four months and I love you more each and every day.

He's still a stinkpot

I’ve spent the last few days with my honourary nephew. He’s not blood but he’s pretty damn close, and sometimes it feels like he’s closer to me than my own family. To say it’s been hard is an understatement, but there’s been some lightness too and that’s what I will share today.

Christopher knows what he likes and what he doesn’t and has never been one to mince words. “No offence, but could you stop singing please? You’re not very good,” he told a good friend. “No offence, but I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to him,” he said, pointing at The Man.

While he is speaking less and less these days, he still manages to communicate his likes and dislikes. Give him one too many kisses and he’ll gently swat your face away. Tickle his arm and he’s more than likely to move it to a position where you can’t reach. The oxygen is another story altogether and this is where the sneaky stinkpot comes in.

Christopher has many nicknames to match his moods. Grumpy Gus – that’s self-explanatory. Stinkpot. Sneaky Pete. He becomes both when it’s time to get his oxygen levels up and this means keeping the oxygen tubes in his nose for more than five seconds.

At first, he’s obvious about it, trying to whip the tubing away from his face. He sighs when we tell him he must keep it on, for at least a little while. He’s not happy but (we think) he’s accepted the situation at the time. Until the hand sneaks under a pillow – out of sight, out of mind, right? Yes, he thought so too. Ever so slightly the hand would creep up and out and before you know it, he’s trying to remove the tubes again. And, when we notice it, he quickly (or as quick as he can at the time) moves the hand back to his hiding place, ready for the next escape.

Auntie Leenie knows his tricks and has made a game of it, playing thumb wars, hand wars and generally teasing him so while he knows he’s lost the battle, he’s okay ‘cause he’s still in the running to win the war.

And yet, despite all of his moods and his knack of being brutally honest, people still love him and flock to him, all because he’s Christopher. The number of visitors through the house in the last four days has been astounding. One of the “Life Skills” classes at Christopher’s school even made a pot roast dinner for the family, complete with asparagus, potatoes, carrots and gravy. Coffee has been bought (and made), casseroles lovingly packaged and even pizza delivery arranged. One of Christopher’s EA’s even dropped off a sample of pool water to the pool company since Dad couldn’t make it out of the house.

And me? Besides throwing all of my love over Christopher like a blanket and watching over when his parents catch a few winks, I’ve become an expert at keeping the coffee carafe full, even grinding the beans for an even better cup of Joe. They’re just lucky they didn’t get my first vat of coffee when I was still learning the coffee making ropes or they would get coloured water or a vat of tar, all depending on the scoop levels I would choose.

It’s all for Christopher, my (and everyone’s) little stinkpot. I just hope there was more – more time, more we could do. But there certainly wouldn’t be more love.

My Gusafus

I don't have a lot of words for you  guys today. I'm fighting a cold and have had some terrible news too late into the night to do anything. Instead, I'll post a single photo.

It's a great photo taken by a very talented, tongue-pierced photographer of her little brother. I love her and I love him, and I wish I could take away the pain during an impossible time.

Gus is a wonderful little boy and I've had the joy of knowing and loving him for almost a decade. He's designed "contraptions" in my house and promised me he'd be careful if I let him ride a mattress down my stairs (I didn't, but laughed as I said no). He starts every sentence with "Actually" or "No offence but..." No matter what he's doing or what's going on he tells me he loves me and brightens up whenever he hears that I'm coming over or even if he says my name. His mom tells me he makes his happy noise. He has no idea how much he's brightened up my life.

Please take every opportunity to hold your loved ones close and tell them you love them. If you've lost touch with those people, make contact again. If you've had a fight, take the first step to forgive them. Life is short. Every moment lost is one you will never get back.

I'm a feckin' ray of sunshine..

Actually, I'm not. And I'm going to get in trouble because: a) I'm slacking off at work. With an hour left until home time and on a Friday, the weekend is calling me. And I'm answering with slacks on - slacker slacks; b) I actually stole (yes, me!) the phrase from my friend at work, who stole it from a t-shirt - okay she read it off of a t-shirt and laughed her ass off. Literally. It's gone. She can't find it. Not really, but it would be really funny, wouldn't it?


I'm trying to find anything to make me laugh, to muster me out of this fog. There are many reasons for it: post-holiday blues, a fucktastic job that I would like to shove down someone's throat, negativity on a daily basis from my boss who loves when there's drama, and worse, a feeling of helplessness over a future without a Gusafus.

Gusafus is not a thing, he's a person - a little person - who doesn't have a bad bone in his body but who has a very large (and growing) tumor in his brain. And still he's all light and laughter, long, gangly legs that he will not grow into. It's a sad state when all I can do for him is kiss and hug him, fluff his pillows and love him with all of my ever-breaking heart. I would take the tumor and claim it as my own if I only could. I would sprinkle him with fairy dust to make him invisible, invincible. But I can't. All I can do is love and hold him tight to keep the monsters at bay.

Sad to say, but it puts the lives of us mere mortals in perspective. Shitty job? Gusafus will never have a job. Pining over a loss love (or lack thereof)? Gus will leave behind a legacy of love but never experience his first grown-up kiss or walk down the aisle and into the loving arms of his wife.

I had a really shitty day at work. Actually, it was a week's worth of shit to make up for the two weeks I was pretending my life here didn't exist. I do like some aspects of my life - it's not all bad - but I discovered that I would need to leave my present state of employ to leave my sanity intact. I know with some of you that's up for debate. I say piss off. I'm awesome (see, I've got an award to prove it). So now I'm here at home, Blackthorn cider in hand, remembering that others have it worse and sometimes the grass is not greener on the other side. All I have to do is look at Gus, his parents (my very best friends) and his sister to realize that while Gus doesn't have a choice on how to live his life, I do.

A toast to Gus, my little stinkpot. You make my life worth living well.