Drumheller Files: Stoicism

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My grandpa lost his mother, father, and all five of his siblings by 1989.

He has outlived his wife, three children (the youngest and two oldest), and many other family and friends, too many to list, along his 87 years, he here.

Yet, he never shed a tear at any funeral except at his soul mate’s funeral as their over 50-year multi-book biography series of a story of love ends.

I do know one thing, though—he is not frightened. He would be having solutions not following the road of problems.

In 1941, my grandpa and his friend climbed too deep into an abandoned coal mine.

They were so far into the cit was pitch black ave that it was pitch black when it began to, and they had no sense if they were even running in the right direction.

That same year had her first memory, which she never forgot.

My grandma, her sister and mom lay asleep late into the midnight hours under the skies of England.

They were first awakened by the emergency sirens, followed by the bombs the Germans were dropping above the clouds by an invention called the zeppelin.

Zeppelins are floated by expanding air inside a giant balloon-like structure. It can become buoyant.

Like a submarine floats deep into the abyss under extreme pressures, it can float lazily as the zeppelin does, like a whale taking a nap in the sky.

My family would run out of the secure military building they were trying to hide in.

The game was over as they were found as they ran for their lives.

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With milliseconds to spare, they would make it all out alive.

They were taken a right to a ship and sent to Canada.

My grandma and grandpa both would realize something when they were in the first years of their lives, that after their near-death experiences, there is nothing to fear in this life as long as you are still breathing.

What’s on the other end of Fear? —Nothing.

Since 2010 I have lost over 30 friends and family members.

Five would pass away last year alone.

This semester, two weeks ago, my grandpa developed pneumonia in the hospital with possible COVID.

My stepbrother went on a suicide mission after his pregnant girlfriend lost her life.

I don’t say those things for sympathy.

I say those things because life sometimes happens out of my control.

If I dwell and make others feel bad, we won’t move forward. Instead, we will sink into the portal of anxieties and depressions.

So when you’re stuck, and you think you can’t move—just trying for a run for 20 minutes, come back tell me you can’t move still.

To be a true stoic, I will remember those who have left this lifetime but carry forward the significant aspects that helped shape who I am today.

 To pick up and move along the best way, I know how to carry on and never forget how and why I am here.

I just remembered the only other time I have seen my grandpa shed a tear was when I read him a letter.

I wrote to him for his 80th birthday.

It explained how one day, as he inspired me to do great things, I would do great things in his name.

Stoically, like my grandma and grandpa would want to see, in honour of my great-grandpa, a Nazi hunter for Great Britain, he tried to defend against those to flatten the city’s infrastructure in which he Instead here up.

But instead, he would lose his life at 26-years under Hitlers’ methamphetamine-filled Nazi soldiers’ veins.

Some days under the hypnosis of deep meditation and laser-focused introspection, I feel that he chose me as his reincarnation for this generation.

Strategically waiting for the right time, he returned to this universe to return to earth’s collective cons after exploring every corner of consciousness after exploring every corner of the galaxy.

To guide me, lead, educate, let go and show how to push forward.

Months before being born, my mother had a reoccurring dream every night until I was born.

The goal was someone in a war that was continuous each night, seeing new images through a soldier’s eyes.

That soldier would die in that war, and then I was born. I was born in Red Deer, Alberta.

It was 8:06 pm. I was born into an insane blizzard. There was a blackout in the city as soon as I arrived. My nana couldn’t call anyone until the morning.

The following morning my other grandma was pleasantly surprised her son neglected to tell someone who works at the hospital that he had impregnated my mother, and she had just found out she had just become a Grandma!

Oh, I’m sorry, did you think I would end there? Mother Fucker! My story is just about to begin.

Grandma
Flora Cunningham                                              August 18, 1939 – March 8, 2013

Dean Mathers

Editor-in-chief

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