The Joy of Craig – December 17, 2024
I met Craig 25 years ago, soon after his arrival in Calgary. Our relationship always brought joy into my life and that of my family.
At first, I was his boss when he was a Café Manager, I took him with me on my next consulting contract at a 24/7 restaurant chain. Later we worked together at Starbucks. We worked directly and indirectly with each other for around 4 years, before he became a First Responder. Craig was an amazingly quick study, soon able to manage full-service operations and the challenges of drunks at two o’clock in the morning. He developed his own approach, which was to engage, then confuse them, then settle them down. His capacity to quickly learn and immediately apply processes was something to behold. I expect that he was the same as a Paramedic.
Early in our working relationship we became friends, soon we were fast friends, over time he became like a son, then a brother to me. The age difference didn’t matter, I am 17 years his senior. He was an old soul, and I, well I was just older. The Term “Best Friend” does not do justice to how I feel about Craig. It is a testament to Craig’s nature that many he knew feel the same way, as friendship is based on mutual trust and an interest in the health and welfare of those people we call friends. He had that in Spades.
With Craig, you knew that he was always present. He was attentive to what people said and responsive to their needs. He offered support in many ways; kindness, understanding and insightfulness. As my friend he also brought grounding to my life, seeing when I struggled, steadying me, and challenging me to face my troubles head on. He was there for me, and I tried to be there for him.
I was humbled when Craig and Pam allowed me to be part of their support team over the past few years. I cherished every moment with my friend whether in the car, going for breakfast, bedside or visiting him at home. Early on, we decided that, unless Craig wanted to speak to it, the car would be a cancer-free zone. This gave us the opportunity to talk or not talk, depending on our moods. Mostly we talked or laughed, at times though, not a word was spoken, but it was peaceful. We also made sure that we got Sausage and Egg McMuffins into him as often as possible. All-day breakfast was a big part of our driving experience.
Craig and I enjoyed each other’s rather odd senses of humor, irreverence was a huge part of it. We would see or be chatting about something, anything really, and take the mundane to the ridiculous. It was much like pulling a thread on an old sweater, the more it unraveled the more unpredictable and outrageous the conversation became. Our laughter was uncontrollable at times. Who does that on the way to get cancer treatment? Well, we did, regularly. Once, we were waiting in the ante room for him to get his chemo treatment, they were running late. There was a soap opera on the TVs but without sound or subtitles. Bored and anxious we started making up our own narrative about what was going on in the show and what the characters were saying. As usual, we soon disappeared into our own bubble, forgetting our surroundings. The sweater unraveled and we started to giggle, then laugh, losing ourselves in the story, gut wrenching. A young nurse came out to speak with us, arms folded, a grim expression on her face. “We knew that it was you two”, she said, “Get in the back”, causing us to almost choke while trying to keep our faces straight. She marched Craig to the back with her; the ante room was filled with wry smiles. We were like two little boys getting caught doing something naughty. This was not an isolated incident, it did reflect the nature of our friendship, we found laughter in everything.
Craig’s ability to feel empathy was ingrained in his spirit, even those who didn’t know him recognized that he cared. Yet, he prided himself on being pragmatic, able to think his way through situations calmly, assessing, intellectualizing even the most emotional of circumstances, solving issues in a most rationale way. He was extraordinarily skilled in this regard. To have someone in your life bringing a balance of emotional connection and the ability to work through life’s toughest challenges is truly a gift, he gave me that gift, and he gave it to others quite freely.
His capacity for love was a marvel. What he found with Pam, and then with Eamon and Emily, he considered the biggest gift in his life. They gave him hope for a happy future, purpose, strength, and peace of mind. Their love embraced him every day. Watching him grow as a proud father was a real pleasure. One of Kate’s and my favorite memories is when Craig and Pam first came to our house with the tiniest of babies, Eamon, and then Emily. My family and I are thankful for having the Nichol family in our lives, they enrich us.
Craig also had a temper. Let us not forget that he was not 100% angel after all. Woe betide anyone who crossed his ‘values’ boundaries. They would find themselves on the receiving end of the sharpness of his intellect and the razor’s edge of the other side of his sense of humor. He had the “Annoyed Dad” look down cold, the piercing eyes, the furrowed eyebrows, the set of his lips. Non-verbal communication clear as can be. Mind you, forgiveness always followed any anger with him, you could count on it.
Craig’s cancer journey was one he faced head on. He took up the fight immediately, focusing on the daily challenges while keeping his eyes on the horizon to provide himself with a sense of direction. He engaged in the process of treatment stoically, endured the side effects quietly and focused on the next steps in order to move forward. Once again, he used his intellect to study and understand what was happening to him, ignorance was not acceptable. He wanted to be, and was, involved in the decisions being made about his care. He was fortunate to have Pam in his corner, a fierce advocate who understood what Craig was fighting for; hope, his family, and his time with them.
To the First Responders everywhere, thank you for your service, to those that visited my sick friend a special thank you. I hope that you enjoyed his company and the laughter that ensued as much as I did. Craig was enormously proud to be a Paramedic and to have you as his peers.
A number of months ago, he and I tried to put what was happening to him into perspective. Both of us upset, angry, in disbelief at the injustice and saddened by the prospect of him not being here for as long as he had hoped. Two articulate, well read, grown men and best of friends, looking for words. In the end, the most eloquent thing that we came up with together, was, “This really sucks”, we left it at that.
I process loss quite slowly / it will take me years. Do not rush your grief, savour the memories, the thoughts of “Craig would love that movie, I’ll call him and see if he is up to it”, the smiles brought to your face by something that would have stirred him, or wound him up. You know what he would say, enjoy the moment, laugh. He’d like that.
My friend/brother has left but he still grounds me, causes me to smile and makes me whole. I will miss our irreverent laughter and his quirkiness but am thankful for having known this man of true decency, my life is fuller for having had him in it.
He left love for all of us as his legacy.
I loved Craig and will carry that love until, I too, have gone. I hope that I can do so with half as much dignity.
