May the Force be With You

At Mike's memorial, I had the chance to say a few words. Afterwards, Joan asked me if I could set those words down somewhere. It's taken me more than a year to muster up the courage to do so. But here they are, maybe not verbatim, but the heart of it:

Mike and I first became friends in high school, in art class at Richview Collegiate Institute in Etobicoke, where he specialized in intricate drawings of superheroes and dragons, Michelangelo-like beautiful sketches of the human body, and Paris.

We then spent four years together at Queen's where, largely thanks to Mike, I met some of the best friends I've ever had (and still have), many of whom - Dave, Brad, Jen and Ali to name a few - are here, many with their children and loved ones, today.

There are means through which to measure the quality of one's life, the quality of one's friendships. For me, and I would venture to say for Mike, a key indicator would be the number of 'No Life Attacks' a person has had. A No Life Attack may be roughly defined as a fit of laughter so silly, and so all-consuming, that it causes a person (and shortly others in the vicinity) to fall off their chair, with tears of silliness streaming down their face. I am lucky to say I can't possibly count the number of No Life Attacks I had with Mike (almost all of them started by him).

No Life Attacks are, perhaps paradoxically when you think about the name, actually about living life to the fullest, about basically bursting with life. Therefore, today, and remembering Mike, I'd like to rename the concept, and to celebrate instead Mike's amazing ability to have huge, fantastic Life Attacks.

Mike also knew how to live according to very specific principles. The ones that come to mind for me, when I think about what was really important to Mike, are: silliness, warmth, integrity, loyalty, determination, kindness, friends, and family.

I'm tempted to ask for a show of hands: raise your hand of you, or anyone beside you, or anyone you know well, ever received a nickname from Mike. Or were on the receiving end of a bear hug from Mike. Or experienced his intense loyalty. That's what I thought: just about every hand.

When Mike first shared with me the fact that he was ill, one of the main things we talked about, at quite some length, was the concept of superhero. As we know, Mike was a man of science, of reason, of rationality, and a very skilled doctor. But he was also a superhero, devoted to the idea and practice of good triumphing over evil. He understood the human body, tried to understand and master its special powers, to conquer the dark side, to protect others from harm. In his final months, Mike was The Protector of family and friends, the Hero to the extraordinary Sarah, the beautiful Lucas and the lovely Emily, to all of us. In fact, he was always a something and someone more, particularly special, exceptional, to all of us.

I hope you will join me in remembering and celebrating Mike as the true friend and real superhero that he was, and remains.

In the words of Mike's favourite Luke Skywalker, May the Force be With You.

I miss you, and I love you, Mike P.