The Gift

December 1, 2021

"No legacy is so rich as honesty"

William Shakespeare

What gift is suitable for a dying man?

To preserve his privacy I will refer to him as Mr. C. I didn’t know him well, but was acquainted with him and had talked to him a few times when visiting the bank branch where he was the manager. He was friendly and approachable. He had a round face, a ready smile and a twinkle in his eye that almost reminded me a bit of Santa Claus. (more on than later!) Mr. C. eventually retired from the bank but instead of heading to more exotic locations suitable for retirement, he chose to stay in the community. I was struck by the fact that I would often see him. He had adopted the faded blue jeans and work clothes which were more often worn by the farmers and tradesmen that he would have dealt with at the bank. He even drove a battered pickup truck in keeping his attire. Clearly here was a man that was unconcerned with the impressing people with stylish clothes or transportation. I was impressed!

It was shortly before Christmas 2007. I was visiting my dad, James, who was in the last weeks of his life. But my dad never was in a hurry to get anywhere and had lingered, bedridden and in pain … for months. We liked to joke about my dad’s lack of haste. In earlier times we could bid him and mom farewell at the back door, go and eat supper and then saunter to the living room to wave at them out of the front window! However, this past year had not been kind to him. Having lost his wife of over 60 years, the year before, 2007 was a year of steady decline.

I was visiting dad in the nursing home shortly before Christmas. In spite of the Christmas decorations, there wasn’t a lot of cheer in the place. Suddenly, we heard the sound of bells! Old St. Nick had come for a visit! The room brightened when he popped into the room. In spite of the costume and fake beard, I recognized that twinkle in the eyes. Behind that fake beard and inside that red suit there was a bank manager!

Mr. C, I mean Santa, recognized my dad and came over to his bed. It wasn’t the first time they had met. In fact, Mr. C. had a bit of history with my dad. Many years earlier, a young neighbor had come to my dad asking for his help. Without going into a lot of detail, suffice it to say that this young neighbour was not of the best of intentions. After winning my dad’s confidence he had persuaded dad to co-sign for a considerable loan at the bank where Mr. C. was the manager. It turned out all too soon that the young neighbour had no intention of repaying the loan and defaulted. Dad, honouring his promise, repaid the loan in full.

I don’t remember much of what Mr. C. and my dad said to each other. Dad was pretty heavily sedated with pain killers so I’m sure they didn’t spend a lot of time going over details.  But I do remember, Santa’s parting words that day. “Here is the most honest man I have ever known!” 

Dad left us just a few days later, on January 2, 2008. Ties, socks and boxes of chocolate would have paled to the parting words of Mr. C, a gift most fitting!