It started out like any other typical Wednesday; middle of the week, middle of the day, and in this case, middle of the month.
But this particular day will be one that Morely will remember forever.
For a Wednesday in February it was actually one for the record books, the winters snow was sitting in puddles on the pavement and although the sun was hidden behind clouds, there was still a warmth from it and a faint whisper of spring. Coming back from the hospital she had allowed herself a little ray of hope, her own kind of sunshine.
She had come home for lunch, even stopped at the little Italian specialty shop that Eugene had shown them so long ago and to her surprise found one dusty bottle of chianti along the way.
She came out of the garage with two brown paper bags cradled in her arms and heard ringing as she approached the door. In a moment of panic fumbling to get the key into the lock one of the bags slipped through her arms and landed with a crash on the step. When the door finally popped open she set the other bag on the counter and reached for the phone.
“Hello!” she cried into the receiver.
Silence, whoever it was had hung up.
It rang again just as the arm was tucked back onto its cradle and Morely swooped it up but paused before answering. It was one of those calls everyone expects to get but is never prepared for.
After months of hoping, a dear friend had passed away in his battle with melanoma.
Suddenly the house was too quite, too big, filled with too many memories. Morley made a few important calls to share her sad news and to ask if everyone could meet here at the store later that day. When she was done she headed outside and sat in the garden and cried.
In the twilight, Morely decided to walk to the store, it just seemed the right thing to do. She smiled looking upon the front porch of Bert and Mary’s home still decorated with Valentine colours.
She looked over at Jim Scoffield’s house, Dave's closest friend. Jim had a tendency to be present at Dave's most awkward moments, such as Dave's infamous incident with the Christmas turkey. At the same time, the door opened and Jim stepped out giving a wave.
“I’ll be right there” he shouted.
Carl and Gerta Lowbeer came out just as Morely and Jim were passing and through a window they could see Ted and Polly Anderson standing together in a warm embrace.
They walked for a long time, reminiscing over many little things. Past the school yard where Dave had buried all the coins for Sam. Past the gymnasium where Morely had put on her first Christmas pageant, and where Dave had so exuberantly set up the sound system. Past the drug store where paramedics were called in to cut Dave out of the blood pressure machine and then around the hospital where Dave had made his friend feel at ease by dressing in an identical hospital gown, exposed cheek and all.
Memories everywhere, so many she could almost hear the stories told in a way that only their friend could tell them.
From the street, she watched people come and go through the door of Wong’s Scottish Meat Pies. Kenny was busy serving everyone as usual. He looked up and nodded and they moved on like a group of carollers going door to door.
At long last they stopped just outside the small record shop that Dave spent his days.
“The Vinyl Cafe.”
Someone flicked the switch and the lights buzzed as they came to life, the comfortable woody aroma of the old flooring and the familiar smell of the vinyl was far more comforting than Morley could have imagined.
Morley stood there and breathed it all in. She knew she had to say goodbye but it felt odd without Dave beside her.
The tinkle of the bell announced someone coming into the shop, It was Kenny, holding several large bags of food.
“I brought something to eat.”
Everyone set about clearing things off the counter and spreading the small buffet over the glass
It was quiet at first but soon they were all laughing and crying as they shared their favourite stories.
It’s funny how the mind stops to cope when other, closer things happen. Nothing about the current events seemed to hold quite so much importance.
Sam arrived with his best friend Murphy. Murphy walked straight over to the counter and placed a small handheld recorder down.
Morely looked at him with a curious wonder.
“I thought it would be good to capture some of the memories, some of the stories because nothing seems as important as the little moments you collect. I know we will always remember but I find that sometimes it helps to have them to listen to, to remind us” he said, as he pressed the record button. “There is 2 days worth of recording time in that little beauty.”
Morely smiled and gave him a hug. “Thank you Murphy.”
Stephanie and Tommy came through the door on the heels of Annie, Dave’s younger sister. “We picked her up at the Airport and came together said Stephanie.”
Word spread and before the night was over, the little store was packed with friends and strangers alike. I think is was Rod McKuen that said, “Strangers are just friends waiting to happen”.
Jess Milton was there of course with Meg Masters, Dave Amer and Julie Penner, along with a host of other familiar CBC names; Rick Mercer came with George Stroumboulopoulos, Peter Mansbridge stood talking to Vince Carlin. Musicians that shared the stage with Stuart dropped by and played together; Dan Mangan, Jim Bryson, Donovan Woods, Owen Pallett.
Everyone had a story to tell about their friend whether it was from his days on the road, or back in Montreal where he grew up. More still who had listened to his radio program on the CBC from his younger days as intrepid reporter to host with his good friend Peter Gzowski to his many stories.
How do you carry on when someone you’ve loved for so long is gone?
The answer was simple. To never forget and to never be afraid to remember the people you care about.
Eventually everyone left to go back to their homes, and it was only a few close friends. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, they paused to take one last look around. That’s when Sam noticed Dave trundling up the street. Stephanie ran back inside and pulled one last album from the paper sleeve. It was Stuart’s favourite album of all time, or at least that is what Dave said.
She started the turntable and placed the needle down and they all moved back inside.
“I’m so glad you made it,” she said. “It didn’t seem right to say goodbye without you” tears welling up in her eyes.
Dave looked around at the shop and said, “Looks like you had one heck of a party without me.”
“Don’t worry dad,” said Sam. “We have it all on tape”.
They sat together for just a little longer then left the music to play as they locked the door and headed down the street to home.
Thank you Stuart for some wonderful memories.