My older brother died a year ago today. Other than my father's death, this has been and continues to be the most painful experience of my life. We had our issues but he was a genuinely good person who gave of himself to everyone he knew.

Memories

I'll be adding to this album as I get more photographs

Rick Hundal. Obituary. Vancouver Sun

Guest Book. Vancouver Sun

Dear Rick

I know you won't be reading this letter, but it's more just a vehicle for me to express my feelings about you than anything else.

Kanval will be reading this letter at your funeral tomorrow.

Rick, I'm so sorry, but I just can't bring myself to go. I spoke to Rosemary yesterday, and she understands why.

Devinder, Jerry, Ashley and Graham are representing me and the kids tomorrow. They have been such a great support to me.

I want everyone to know that not attending your funeral has nothing to do with the separation that has existed between us for so long and our inability to find our way back to each other.

It has everything to do with the deep pain I feel from losing you.

Rick, I'm afraid I'm just going to break down there in front of everybody.

I'm having trouble grasping the fact that you're gone and I'll never see you again.

The pain I feel now is the same deep and excruciating pain I felt when Dad died. I never thought I'd feel this way again with anyone else.

I spoke to Rick Green tonight. He called and we reminisced. I've been able to give brief facts about you to strangers, but talking to Rick tonight was the first time that I've been able to really talk about you without breaking down.

Rick Green asked me if I remembered ... and listed off a bunch of your friends.

I laughed, and said I remembered each as clearly as if it was yesterday.

We laughed about the rope swing you guys had that you used to swing over the creek behind Rick Green's house, and the times you guys used to tease us, that friendly, brotherly teasing of all the little sisters, some of whom were my friends.

Poor Kim and her braces. The nickname "tin grin" just seemed to stick. And for a while, anyone who called the house asking for me got a chuckling response, "Sorry, she broke a leg, and we had to shoot her." My nickname went from Medusa to Mungie depending on the mood.

Talking to Rick Green, your childhood friend, and a member of your group of close childhood friends brought back a flood of pleasant, warm memories like the ones I've already mentioned.

There are a lot of them. Way too many to go into in this letter to you.

Lois, one of my childhood friends, sent me an email the other day and talked about how you used to come to her work place and talk and how she enjoyed the conversations she shared with you.

Her email reminded me of the times that you stepped up and looked after me, protected me, when we were kids.

Like the time that Lois, me and a group of our friends were hanging around at the local gas station, bored on a Friday night. Some of the guys in our group were riding around in shopping carts "borrowed" from the local Mall, while we girls were just gabbing, giggling, flirting, and watching.

Just generally being silly.

Your friend was working at the gas station at the time. He knew I was your sister, and other than keeping a watchful brotherly eye out on all of us, didn't interfere with our idiotic pranks.

Until, that is, a group of very drunk guys, stopped their car beside the gas station, jumped out and tried to grab me and another friend of mine, Kelly, and drag us into the car.

They were so drunk that Kelly and I fought them off easily and all of us scattered. I ran into the gas station where your friend was, and he went out and sent them on their way.

He also told you what happened. You tracked those guys down, and told them they better not mess with your little sister or they'd be dealing with you.

From that point on, they not only never messed with me again, but were amazingly respectful when we ran into each other ;-).

Rick, whatever our differences, whatever harsh words passed between us over the years, especially recently, I know you were a good person, who cared deeply about people and about me.

I also know, that you know, I cared deeply about you.

You showed your concern by making the effort to build a relationship with my children despite everything and maintained close contact. They both love and respect you and tried very hard to make arrangements to come but unfortunately weren't able to.

You left me so suddenly, Rick, just like Dad did.

Your heart went, you're gone, and now my heart has broken into a thousand little pieces and the pain is unbearable.

Rick, I'm sorry we were never able to close that chasm that came between us as adults, and the whys and wherefores don't matter anymore.

It was what it was and that's all that can really be said about it.

However, talking to Rick Green helped me so much.

We laughed together about the silly little things and acknowledged the more important things, your kindness and compassion, your honesty and sincerity, the way you cared about everyone, the joy you brought to everyone ... all of the things that made you, you, and are permanently woven into the fabric of our memories.

You were loved Rick, by me, and everyone whose lives you touched on a personal level, and you will be missed.

Always your little sister,

Kitty

Rick Hundal's Funeral

I've noticed a lot of hits on this blog as a result of searches for Rick Hundal since he passed away last week, so have decided to publish the funeral details here for those who wish to attend:

Family visitations:

Boal Funeral Chapel.
address below
Wednesday, June 4, 2008. 7:00 PM on.

Funeral:

Boal Funeral Chapel.
1505 Lillooet Road,
North Vancouver, B.C.

Thursday, June 5, 2008. 10:00 AM.

Further information can be obtained by posting a request using the Comments feature below.

All comments are moderated and will not published if you request privacy.

Rick Hundal died

Rick Hundal, my older brother, died of a sudden heart-attack yesterday.

We were close as kids but as adults there was a chasm between us for so many reasons, none of which seem to matter at this moment, as I grieve his death.

I can't stop crying and the pain is so deep it hurts right down to the inner fibre of my being.

I'll write more about him later ... when it doesn't hurt so much.

Why do the good people die and the nasty evil ones continue to live?

Happy New Year And 100th Anniversary, Hundals!

Hey Family,

This is our 100th Anniversary in North America, starting from both of our grandfathers' (brothers, Hakam and Jewan) arrival in 1908 in both Vancouver, BC, Canada and San Francisco, California, USA.

One of the things that I love about us, is the amazing diversity represented in our family because of our long history in North America.

The religions, politics, and colors cover almost the entire sphere of possibilities out there.

We even have a strong and healthy number of atheists most of whom are techies.

We are the poster child for successful intermarriage over three generations, starting with the very handsome Grand-Uncle Jewan who married a lovely Spanish American Catholic girl.

Religion, politics, nationality, color don't exist as barriers for us. It's just another interesting fact about another addition to the family.

Anyway, it's New Years 2008, and I just wanted to send a 100th Anniversary Toast to all of you, wherever in the world you are right now!

Cheers, Love and Best Wishes,

Kitty



If you aren't already aware, Becoming Canadians: Pioneer Sikhs in Canada, includes us as one of the pioneer families.

Grandma's Pleasure Palace

My mother has finally moved into her new digs, a senior citizens residence.

Oh my god, I should be so lucky when I retire, if I can afford to retire, that is! In fact, I'd happily move in now and save everyone the trouble of setting me up later!

For $1200.00CDN a month, she has a lovely large furnished room with her own private balcony and plenty of space for her personal possessions. They also provide three squares a day, housekeeping and laundry, regular outings, evening entertainment, library service, exercise classes, group activities and who knows what else.

Meanwhile she's still trying to get "better" so she can go home ... sigh.

Does the word "denial" come to mind?

Anyway, this place is great! And, frankly I'm surprised that some enterprising individual hasn't clued into the fact, that those who haven't retired might like this type of arrangement!

Think about it. You rent an apartment, pay a little extra, and get all these services built in. Maid service, a gym and spa, meals in a restaurant in the building or picked up to eat in your apartment, a lounge or club with entertainment in the building where you can hang out and meet your neighbors after work ... the possibilities are endless.

I'd move in as long as they didn't gouge me! Keep the extra rate reasonable, and this could be a very profitable venture, especially if you target the empty nester market!

Let's face it, we lead busy lives these days and don't have the time our parents had to take care of business.

And when our aging population is ready to retire, who needs a seniors' residence ... we're already there :).

There must be some enterprising developers out there who would be willing to try out this idea?

Let me know when you set it up, I'll be the first one to move in!

Back in Toronto

I'm home ... and have been for a while.

It's nice to be in my comfy apartment ... no glorious views, just a warm, familiarity about everything, and a feeling of being grounded again.

My mother is still in Evergreen House, the extended care wing of Lions Gate Hospital. Her mental faculties have returned slowly since the morphine was stopped, but she's still not considered competent by the medical and other professional staff at the hospital. This, despite receiving the best possible care. The dedication, patience, warmth, and support shown by most of the medical, professional, and care staff at Evergreen House, for the patients and their families, was amazing.

They've recommended she move into an Assisted Living community. My sister-in-law found an excellent one, and she's on the waiting list to move when there's a vacancy.

Her response to this was to start exercising a lot so that she could prove to all that she was able to look after herself. She doesn't understand that it's not her physical condition that is of concern, but her mental condition.

My brothers, sister and I have decided not to argue with her, just give her time to adjust, and hopefully she'll get used to the idea.

She's been so independent all of her life. The prospect of putting control of her life in anyone else's hands is unbearable to her.

She keeps assuring me that she is doing very well ... improving all of the time ... and expects to go home soon.

I tell her, that I'm really happy to hear that, and feel like I'm lying to her because I know that her hope to return to her own home is futile.

Her home and her neighborhood are her source of security ... the place where she's lived for over 40 years. Her place.

To her, selling her home means taking away her roots, her base.

To her, not living independently and being sick is a personal failure.

And yet, she likes being looked after and likes not having to worry about anything.

... a real conflict of emotions.

Lala Land Part 2

It's been such a long time since I've spent much time in Vancouver. I moved out east for the third time in 1991 and haven't been here since except for a few very short 1 week visits.

I'm in Lynn Valley looking out of mothers' kitchen window at the blue grey mountains. The greenery is stunning, peoples' gardens have matured and the number of SUVs is nothing short of amazing! lol.

The neighbourhood hasn't changed that much. Although my mother and only a couple of the neighbours are part of the original neighbourhood. Some houses have been taken over by the kids, others have been sold and new, young families have moved in.

Next door the annual baseball tournament is underway in the park, an event that has occurred here since as far back as I can remember. This is one of the few communities in Canada that continue to celebrate May Day with the traditional Maypole dancing performed by the Girl Guides. I did my stint when I was in Grade 6 :)

I've taken to walking a lot (an easy thing to do here, and another feeble attempt to lose weight!). The weather has been gorgeous, sunny and warm.

My unemployment and my mothers' illness coincided and both have allowed me to return and spend some quiet reflective time here. It's a break I needed and appreciate but wish it hadn't come at her expense!

I need her well and strong again, and part of my life.

The doctor told us the mental confusion is worse because of the morphine she has to take every day. This is reassuring in that we know it's not permanent. When her bones heal and she builds up her strength and the morphine is no longer required, hopefully she'll be herself.

Lala Land Part1

Well, here I am sitting in Vancouver and checking in on my mother regularly. When I heard the news about her accident I quit my new job and got on a plane from Toronto.

She's in her 80s and in the hospital. Some days she's mostly there, other days she can't put two words together! She's slowly been losing it over the past few years.

Last year she had a mild stroke but seemed to recover without too much physical damage. The doctor thinks that she may have been having TIAs over the last few years which could explain this gradual mental decline (mini-strokes).

This year she fell while she was walking to the local mall to go shopping. Then again when trying to fix her bed which broke. My sister in law had told her that she would come by to fix it for her, but my mother, as is her nature, was impatient ... it had to be fixed right away ... and she could do it. After all, she'd looked after herself for many years now, she didn't need anyone's help.

The bed collapsed on her fracturing her spine in three places and creating hairline fractures on her hips. She had some osteoporosis and her bones were fragile.

She's now hospitalized, can't walk, and isn't coherent a lot of the time.

I look at this fragile figure who raised me (not an easy job, I wasn't an easy kid to raise and it was the 60s) and who helped me so much in recent years and it makes me wonder what it's all about.

There were negatives and positives in our relationship through the years. In some ways we were close and in other ways so far apart, but in recent years she was really there for me.

So what do I do with all these feelings, the disorientation that comes with seeing someone you care about deteriorate into helplessness and incoherence. Seeing the person that you know disappear slowly into a fog and become almost childlike.

She wasn't perfect, far from it, but neither are anyone of us. She did what she did, and now she needs us to look after her.

In her coherent moments I can see how much she hates being hospitalised and helpless. How she hates the degradation of wearing a "pad" because she can't get up and go to the bathroom, and it requires two nurses and special equipment to take her there. It's even worse when she has to take laxatives to clear the constipation caused by the daily doses of morphine she has to take to dull the pain.

I can see how she just wishes it hadn't happened and just wants to go home. The nurses had to put an alarm on her bed because she keeps trying to get up by herself and has had several more falls in the hospital. Her wheelchair has a seatbelt but it's the one thing that she's very adept at removing!

She's always been independent, started working as a Lab Tech after my father died, and looked after herself.

She loved to travel and see the world. She would come back from her tours with albums of photographs and stories about the places she'd been and what she'd seen. They uplifted her.

She enjoyed regular visits to and from family, friends, and friends of family. Her home was where everyone stayed and everyone visited until recent years.

Her routine until her stroke included two or three visits a week to the Seniors Center at North Shore Neighbourhood House where she would join her friends for regular exercise classes and then pizza at Pizza Hut once a week.

Daily walks (I had trouble keeping up with her on these strolls) twice a day included chats with the neighbours most of whom she knew and some she had known for 40 years, since we first moved into the area. She was at one point made Captain of the local Neighbourhood Watch program, calling me immediately to give me the news with great pride.

She was busy, happy, and enjoying her retirement.

How quickly things change.

So, here I am sitting in the house I grew up in, checking out the community I grew up in, noting the differences and the sameness of everything.

I don't want to be here.

I like Toronto, despite the issues I have to deal with there, Toronto is more my style. I've never really been a Lala Land girl (Lala land = derogatory eastern term for BC for those not in the know ;). I think New Yorkers have similar terms for California?

I tried to convince my mother to move out east and live with me when I saw her deterioration begin, but she loves Vancouver and hates the cold so she wasn't going to go along with this one.

So here I am.

Who am I?

I'm single, an ex-Library Technician, and a current Web and Software Developer. I've been divorced twice, but had the privilege of having 2 really great kids by my first ex-husband who didn't deserve them :).

I grew up in the little enclave of Lynn Valley, North Vancouver District, tucked high in the mountains of the North Shore of Vancouver. Lynn Valley in the 1950s was a small, very green community. The population was a mix of logging industry labourers and young professionals. Suburbia encroached rapidly on the little community and today it's the home of the upper level professional. Much of the green is gone and large homes stretch right up the mountain encroaching on the turf of the mountain wildlife.

My family was typical of the times, my father, a mechanical engineer, my mother, a stay at home housewife with four kids. My older brother, whose talent was speaking and socialising is now in Executive Sales for a multinational company. My younger brother, had an exceptional memory and interest in the mechanical became a lawyer. My sister, who had an abiding love for animals is an Assistant Manager at an SPCA (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty To Animals). My interests lay in reading, mysteries, puzzles and the such. My first career was in Libraries, and my second career is in Software Development.

My father passed away when I was 12, and my mother joined the ranks of the single parents of the time who had no support or assistance from society at large when trying to work and raise their families. Luckily she had almost completed her degree in Bacteriology (in preparation for my fathers retirement, he was 26 years older than her) and was able to find well paid employment as a Laboratory Technician. She raised us alone from the time my brother as 16, I was 12, my younger brother was 8 and my sister was 5.

My life was that of the typical middle class girl of the era (except for my interest in snakes and bugs, which my mother found pretty offensive! ;).