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I’m thankful for: a great love story and valuable grief support

I met my late wife Diane in a crowded Toronto pub. After I drove her home in the rain, she invited me in for coffee and we stayed up the whole night talking. In the 37 years that followed, I never got bored of listening to what she had to say.

Diane and I were married on a Tuesday afternoon at City Hall. We went on to have two children together. Diane was the most patient and loving mom and our children idolized her completely. Saturdays were our date night, and we spent most of them simply sitting at home, sharing dinner and watching the British sitcoms that I liked more than her even though Diane was born in England. She always humoured me, and I loved her company.

We spent a lot of our time together going on long walks, strolling for hours on end and chatting about our lives. On one of those many walks in 1982, Diane mentioned, “I don’t seem to be walking the way I used to.” She said she feared she had Multiple Sclerosis. As the years went by, I’d feel her tugging on my arm because her balance was off. When the doctors confirmed her diagnose, we buckled our two young kids into the car, went for a long drive, and just cried together. Diane stayed as active as she could for as long as possible. One day, I came home from my school board job to find her lying on the floor in a pool of blood after falling down the stairs. That was the day I submitted my resignation at work.

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