JACQUES MARCEL MARCEAU

When you can’t cry, you laugh. Just when you think you’ve had enough of sadness, inexplicably, there’s joy.

I had a wonderful visit with Jacques this morning. Though he’d been asleep for hours, he awoke when I entered his bedroom. What a gift.

“Good to see you’re still here my friend,” I began.

He motioned to me to raise him up a bit. In hindsight, I realize that’s my task these days, to lift his spirits.

“Are you in pain?”

Jacques threw up his arms and in his best Marcel Marceau imitation, pretended to be hanging from a cross. He's accepted his suffering. It’s his life now.

“I realize why you’re still waiting here Jacques,” I said, determined to keep the mood light. “There are two people upstairs who are still planning a party for you.”

“One of them is Brother Maher. Remember how he loved food. Well, he’s in charge of the menu."

Jacques beamed with delight. Brother Maher was the principal at Brebeuf College when Jacques started teaching there. Undoubtedly, Brother was the most generous person I’ve ever met but not the most organized.

“Getting a meal off the ground for you seems to be a real challenge for Brother” I added. “He probably wants to go with his favourite, Chinese food, but I don’t think the higher ups agree with him."

"And of course, the second person is Emmanuel. He's taking care of the drinks," I continued now seeing that Jacques was fully engaged in my tale.

Jacques and Emmanuel Bernard taught French together at Brebeuf for many years. Always the life of the party, I’ll never forget Emmanuel’s account of his jogging exploits. He bragged to me that he was running at least 6K every day.

I so was impressed until he told me that at the 3K mark, he would stop at a local watering hole for a few wobbly pops before finishing his run. A bon vivant to be sure.

Jacques was actually laughing as I told him the jogging story.

Unable to speak clearly now, he has resorted to spelling key words in the air with his index finger to communicate.

M..A..P.. he spelled out resolutely.

“You want a map?” I guessed.

Jacques shook his head and started over.

M..A..S..K

“You want a mask Jacques?”

He nodded and pointed to his closet door. I was lost. What was he trying to say? A moment later, Marcia entered the room and deciphered that Jacques wanted to get out a mask from the cupboard, a death mask that he must have used for Mardi Gras.

“Jacques, we won’t be needing any death mask today,” I responded, somewhat horrified.

He then burst out in the biggest smile as if to say, gotcha. What a rascal! Now I was the one laughing.

“R..U..C..O..M..I.. ” Marcel Marceau asked.

“Of course I’m coming tomorrow,” I replied.

As I left, he grabbed both my hands tightly and I could feel for a moment that he was taking my strength and the strength of all who have supported him in thought, prayer and deed for these past few weeks.

A  joyful death is a wonderful blessing.

Keep praying for Jacques’ joy.

A demain mon ami.