Life just does not seem to be fair  #44

It often takes a life altering event to snap you back to reality and make you realize that little things really don’t matter. Those events can take any sort of shape or form, but when they happen, it makes you stop and think that you really don’t have it so bad.

This week, TC’s brother Andre Cyr passed after a long battle. Andre was a kind and gentle man who loved his family with all his heart. His dog, Two Spots was his companion; Andre seldom went anywhere unless he was at his side.  Andre would do anything for you and do it with a smile. No matter what was on his plate, he would push that aside to help you. He loved his daughter and son and spoke of them often. When he did, you could always detect a smile on his face and you had the sense that he was very proud of them.

TC and I visited Andre roughly a month ago. At that time, it was evident that his health was deteriorating and he knew it. But during our visit, Andre had that smile and engaged me on his latest best fly for catching fish. See, Andre was an outdoors man. He loved to hunt and fish, and he was very good at it. During our visit, he told me that the gray ghost was really working for him at Honeywell Lake in Saint John. He told me that he was having a real hard time finding them and he was almost out. I promised to tie him some and took a picture of the one he had so I could copy the pattern for him. Well, when I got home and looked at the material needed to tie the fly, I found that I did not have a lot of the things I needed. So, I quickly made an order. As I write this, the photo is still on my IPhone and the material is on my work bench.  I expect I will tie a few up and the next time I go to Honeywell, I plan to let one go on the water, just in case Andre needs it.

I also recall a hunting trip many years ago when I lived in Fort Kent. Andre and I set out for St. Francis to hunt deer. It was a nice morning and a dusting of snow had fallen earlier. As we got to First Pelletier Pond, Andre parked his truck and we got out. He told me about the lay of the land and where I should go and we split up for the day. Now, Andre’s knowledge and expertise of the woods and outdoor recreation was very admirable indeed. As an example, he was his own natural compass when hunting in the woods. His father, Rosaire, would always comment as to how remarkable he was with his compass, but he must have possessed great instincts too. He could maneuver around the woods like any wild animal. He knew where he needed to be and where he was at all times.   Anyway, it wasn’t too long before I came upon a nice buck track that took me all over the mountain and valley. At some point, as the sun was beginning to fade, I decided to track back to the truck. Well, mistake number one was that I was using a pin on bobber compass that had somehow stopped working.  Mistake number two, was that I did not have a replacement. I started back and came to what I thought was First Pelletier Pond. I thought that the truck was on the other side, so I began to make my way around the water. I quickly determined that it was not the same pond and that is when reality set in. I began to sweat and quickly decided to calm myself down. I knew Andre was somewhere in the area, so I let a few shots off thinking he would hear them and come to where I was. I sat down remembering that my training was to stay in one place. Well, it wasn’t long before I heard some stirring in the woods and through the trees came Andre. His first comment was to ask where the deer I had shot was, saying, I heard shots.  I quickly explained what had happened and he said ok, let’s go, it’s getting dark. He worked his way out of that area and guided us back to the truck in no time. After that, I never heard a word from him about that day and my misfortune. He just knew that I was ever indebted to him. Oh, and Andre always had a real interesting greeting when he talked to you. He would say, “Hey there feller.” If he was speaking to his nieces or nephews, he would address them as “Hey there young feller.”   Those sayings and his voice are ringing through my mind right now.

Andre was also the king of the scratch tickets. Each Christmas, we would all gather at the Cyr home where all the family members, spouses and grandchildren would spread love and cheer. As the gifts were being handed out, Andre would get up and give each nuclear family member a Christmas card envelope. That envelope was full of scratch tickets. He loved doing that and was always around while you checked them out to see if you won. If you did, he would beam from ear to ear with pleasure. If for some reason, you were not able to make it, when you did get there, you knew that there was an envelope waiting for you with your name on it.

Andre does not need a compass anymore. He does not need guides or a waypoint either. TC and I keep comfort that he is in a far better place where there is no more sickness and hurt. He probably has his fishing pole out and is not far away from wetting his hook. Andre, I will get that fly tied for you and know that we love you and will miss you. May you now rest in peace, feller.