Hugo Zacharias died tonight.

Hugo was Mary's adopted grandfather, and mine too I guess. My extended family isn't close at all, and even less affectionate. My maternal grandparents are dead, he died in the forties, she died in the late sixties. My paternal grandfather died on my 18 th birthday after spending years in an insane asylum and my paternal grandmother still lives, though I haven't spoken to her in years, we have nothing to say to one another, there never was any love between us and never will be.

Hugo on the other had was a hell of a guy. He always had a smile on his clock and it was a real one. He had been a flight engineer in the RCAF during WWII and logged thousands of hours patrolling the oceans looking for submarines. He flew in a Canso, the Canadian version of the PBY Catalina, a twin-engined flying boat. Unfortunately the flight engineer's position was placed right between the two engines in that particular aircraft so he was pretty deaf. Our conversations were always shouted as his hearing aids didn't really accomplish much.

He used to walk for miles and miles. he loved to walk and bicycle. Often I'd see him cycling through the downtown area with a cigarette puffing happily. He smoked like a chimney, and none of those pansy filters either! Unfiltered and hand-rolled from Players tobbacco was the order of the day.

When he decided that his health was such that he could no longer cycle he decided that a motorcycle was just the ticket, he hated driving cars but didn't think a motorbike would be bad. He purchased a little blue Honda scooter, one of those tiny buzzing things you see college students and teenagers on, he was 69 at the time. He asked me to teach him how to ride it. My mother-in-law had known Hugo for twenty years or so and was always trying to get him to "act his age" so she was thoroughly pissed about it all. I needed no better reason to get in there and teach him. We spent some time in parking lots with him getting used to it. In this province a novice motorcyclist requires a licensed rider on a bike beside or behind him. This gave rise to a number of instances where his little blue buzzer zipped along near its redline with him alternately looking grim and white-knuckled, or hugely impressed with his own coolness as he profiled along. All the while I loped along beside him on my Harley, it was quite a picture. The scooter episode was short-lived after he laid it down one afternoon. He decided it wasn't for him after all.

Soon after he gave up the bike he got very sick, we figured him for a goner at the time, a bacterial infection invaded his brain and had him in a coma for a number of weeks. He surprised everyone by recovering. One lasting effect of this episode was that it allowed him to quit smoking as he had already passed through the worst of the withdrawl period while unconscious. Hugo never was very strong after that though. He placed himself in a local care home where he immediately went to war with the management over rules and regulations etc. He was always a shit-disturber and proud of it. Hugo soon got himself one of those electric scooters you see all over these days. His was a super-deluxe model with a detachable roof and plastic side-curtains for rainy days and headlights etc. He went everywhere on that thing, he'd zip out to a neighbouring town in the morning,( A trip close to ten miles) and scoot around to a couple of places and have lunch. Then, with the battery mostly dead he'd plug it into an external receptical and have his afternoon nap while it charged up, then buzz on home for dinner. Gotta love it. More than once I had to take my pickup out and get him when he didn't quite get the charge level right in the batteries ending up stalled on the side of the road. He needed tunes too, so we went into my workshop and mounted a car stereo on it. Being stone deaf he always had it turned up wayyyyyy past the distortion level, and always blaring country music. You always knew when he was in the mall. When my kids were little he'd sometime meet us in the grocery store or wherever and take them for rides. They loved grampa Hugo.

Hugo taught me a lot about getting old. He taught me just how little some people respect elders. One night we were talking to him and the subject of food came up, Hugo loved to cook but wasn't permitted to in the home, and he craved macaroni and cheese, not Kraft dinner, but real mac & cheese with onions and tomatoes and broccolli. He had gone so far as to buy the ingredients for the cook at the home, and the guy agreed to cook it for him, but the dietician found out and vetoed it. Anyway, he waxed poetic about M&C for a good twenty minutes so we invited him for dinner the next night. Mary cooked up a big casserole of M&C and he was there in his glory. I will never forget that night, he took his first forkful and wept, literally wept. I couldn't believe it. I remember thinking "My god, to be reduced to crying over a plate of Macaroni and cheese" He ate three platefuls that night, more than i ever saw him eat of anything in all the time i knew him. We packed up a big tub for his lunch. He made sure to eat it in front of the dietician. After a night like that I'd drive him back to the home and see him to his room, we'd always shake hands while he'd thank me for having him, and then the next morning he'd phone to thank us again. We had him over prety regularly, and always on Christmas, easter, thanksgiving etc. He had a son and a daughter, but they never seemed to have time.

Two weeks ago he took us out for dinner, I had seen him a month before but I was shocked at his deterioration, he drooled and slurred, his eyes lacked focus, his hearing was worse than ever and his mind wandered where it used to be sharp as a razor. I knew he wouldn't last long. As I was walking him to his room that night he said to me "I hope I don't wake up tomorrow. I say that every damned night lately, but I keep waking up in the morning and saying "Shit" he chuckled kinda sad and I knew he meant it.

I said "Well, it won't be long now, Hugo, you've had a good run"

He laughed, "Yeah I guess I have, well, no offense but I hope I don't see you again"

I shook his hand and smiled "None taken Hugo,I hope I don't see you again either, have a good rest"

We both laughed but we both knew we meant it, there was not a shred of sadness in our goodbye.

We both knew we'd never lay eyes on one another again in this life, and there was no reason to Bullshit one another. Given all the options I'd say it was the best goodbye we could have had. I'm proud to say I loved that man, and we shared many good times. He was the grandfather I never had, he was a hell of a guy. He gave back one hell of a lot more than he took, that's for damn sure.

Happy landings Hugo.