Perhaps the title may be a bit confusing for some; reading a pharmacy-centric blog, surely I must have meant a white lab coat. Maybe someone is retiring or taking on a new role within the profession that doesn’t require the customary uniform?

Alas, my reason for writing today is one of personal loss. The only real pharmacy connection I can find relates to my career in continuing care and servicing the needs of the frail elderly. Quality of life is paramount in this population, but being objective with decision making requires a certain degree of disconnection, and none of it truly prepared me for this day.

My maternal grandfather passed peacefully on Jan 23, 2024 at the age of 102. It was a life well-lived and loved. He, like my grandmere (also 102) was of sound mind and independently living in the same house where my mother and her 7 siblings all grew up. It’s not often that someone in middle-age gets to boast that they still look forward to visiting the homestead for a serving of rappie pie from the oven, or fresh biscuits and beans. My teenage daughters also cherish their relationship with one of the longest married couples in all of Canada, spanning 9 decades and lasting approximately 81 years, 190 days.

He was a proud WW2 veteran and member of the Wedgeport Legion Branch 155. Stories of the war were plentiful, especially in his later years. During my pharmacy degree, I performed a 2-week hospital rotation in Yarmouth and lived with them about 10-15 minutes outside of town. They were in their late seventies at the time and were absolutely thriving. It was always amazing to me how well they both moved around the house without a hint of a limp or other injury. My grandmere would knit on the couch (still does today), while grandpere would fuss with his garden in a plot across the road. Visitors were always constant and everyone welcomed.

War stories aside, Charlie was a man of music. He was always humming and playing the harmonica. Most of the tunes I didn’t recognize save for the chosen few he would perform during fundraising variety shows at the Legion. Many of my family members participated in those shows; they never failed to be crowd-pleasers.

I was asked the day before the funeral if I would sing in the choir. It was bound to be an emotional ride for my aunts on the pulpit and we wanted to all be up there for support. Of course there was no hesitation even though I hadn’t heard the songs since the time I had been an altar server in junior high. Before we started, I made a point to say, ‘He gave us all these voices, now it’s time to use them.’ We managed to hold it together for most of the mass. The acoustics in this 200 year old church were warm and full. My mother stepped up to deliver the eulogy, and promptly read a poem she had written for her father’s 90th birthday. It contained anecdotes about returning home after being away for three full years overseas, raising eight children with his bride, his fondness for the good times, and his generous and gentle nature. There was not a dry eye in the house. Everyone did an amazing job that was fitting for an amazing life.

Rest in peace our beloved Grandpere Charlie…you’re up there serenading the angels in your white sport coat and pink carnation.

https://www.huskilson.net/obituary/charles-charlie-muise

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