Messorem

It has been a year since I lost both my mom and dad in a span of 20 days. I think, like a lot of people, I underestimated the effect grief would have on me. After the difficult process of cleaning out and selling their house all while trying to stay engaged with work from New Brunswick, I was exhausted. In hindsight, I should have taken some time off to recover, but the first break I gave myself was a short trip to Montreal to get away from everything and unplug.

I wasn’t thoughtful about choosing Montreal. I had decided on Vancouver for an escape, but the hotels were so expensive that I ended up booking my trip to this city that has been so much a part of my life over the years. I was so tired in organizing all of this that it didn’t even occur to me that I’d be away for what would have been my dad’s 85th birthday. More on that in a bit. But I was “with it” enough to book a seat on the left side of the plane for this view. Olympic Stadium on the final approach brought a tear to my eye.

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Much like what I just wrote about Quebec City, Montreal holds a very special place in my heart. In the early 1980s, childhood trips to the city with my dad were the first experiences I had visiting a big city. Those trips by train to Montreal to take in a few Expos games make me smile to this day and every time I get back to the city it feels like some happy ghosts from those days follow me on my current day explorations.

Montreal trips as an adult usually have a series of touchstones for me that have connections to the memories from my childhood trips. Having amazing meals in the city these days makes me think of getting to eat all kinds of food with dad that I didn’t normally get to have as a child. Touring craft breweries makes me think of dad letting me have a sip of his Budweiser as a kid while we got ready to head to Olympic Stadium. Wandering aimlessly around the old town takes me back to chasing pigeons with dad looking on and laughing at my childhood exploits. And exploring the city in search of public art takes me back to seeing Alexander Calder’s “Trois Disques” and having my mind blown as a seven year old as dad toured me around Île Sainte-Hélène.