As you grow up, there are some things you take for granted. Like you and Steve really will be friends forever, and you'll never be without your treehouse, and the house you live in and the neighborhood will be there forever. Your parents will always be together, you really will become an astronaut, and someday you'll have it all under control. But mostly, you don't think about losing people. Captain Brian Smith was a lifelong friend of my father and someone I knew would always be around. But on Monday, like so many things I've taken for granted, that stopped being true.
It wasn't a surprise, exactly. It was over 6 months ago that we discovered that Brian had "Cancer of the everything". Lungs, stomach, spine, brain, anywhere you could put it almost. It was plainly amazing that he was alive. And astonishingly enough, he fought it off for a while, after complete courses of radiation and chemo finally coming to a limited remission last January. But like many things, it didn't last, and the doctors had already done everything they could, which left Captain Smith to watch as his body slowly betrayed him, starting with weakness, then seizures until finally he was bedridden. I hadn't seen him since the winter, until last weekend when I went to visit. He was smaller than in his earlier life, unable to get out of bed and barely able to control his movements. Days before, he had required both hands to be strong enough to smoke the cigarettes that even still he had been unable to quit, but by the time I saw him, he could barely lift his head.
He had been a Great Lakes Pilot for large vessels, quite an accomplishment, and had worked for the last several years as Master on a tour boat (the Diamond Jack) in the Detroit River. He had spent much of his life working on the water. You could always count on him for ideas (or especially criticism) for any project you worked on. You could always count on him for a smile, and a jovial mood, and a quiet sarcasm in everything, and recognize his loping stride a mile away.
I've thought about working on the water professionally for quite a while (and still think about it), and knew I could always ask the Captain for information or advice. I loved to hear the stories about working the lakes or just the daily life on the "Jack". I liked explaining my engineering work to him, which he always picked up quickly.
And still, whenever I go to visit my da, to watch a hockey game or go for a boat ride or just sit and watch the fire, I'll still expect him to stop by. I'll wonder why its been so long since I've seen him. I'll think about visiting at the dock for Diamond Jack when I'm at Hart Plaza downtown for the music festival.
I can't stop believing. There are some things I'm not ready to grow up for.
Sail Away, Captain.
Thank You
The pictures and description of him sound like a man who loved life. May everyone who was touched by him, even if it was through a photograph on someone's website, remember.
On those long nights at Mossport, along the mighty Pinus, sitting around the fire with a Molson..... the lights of an approaching car announced the arrival of another visitor. More times then not it was Brian, on his way home, in a hurry to join the circle by the fire. Of all us boaters and waterman, he was a true Captain. First Rocky, now Brian...their places around the fire of Mossport will remain forever, and we shall raise a glass to their memory.
Thanks for the remembrance, Kev. Smitty was a lifelong friend and a presense in my life that I shall miss tremendously. First on the right and on till morning, Bri.
We join all Brian's family and friends in praising God that when Captain Smith sailed away, it was in the arms of Jesus, his Lord and Savior. We know that because he sailed with Him, we'll be together again one day. Thanks to all his special friends and hi to Micki, TR and Brian Moss!
I only knew Brian for a short time, but I knew, when he looked you in the eyes when you were talking he was listening. He always had a kind hello and a sincere "good bye, great to see you again" Smooth sailing to you Brian, it was nice to know you and look forward to seeing you again!
Kooby
ALL my Love to my captain, who I miss trmendously! To my captains of 3 (B.S;B.M.;T.R) now there are 2 (B.M.;T.R) - Save room in the pilot house for me up on the mighty ship you are sailing in Heaven. Thanks Kev you touched us all!
"Hugs and Kisses" - The Queen!
I sailed on the boat in the picture as a young boy while visiting my grandparents during the summer. I learned to waterski on the St. Clair river, losing the boat through the swells pushed by the big freighters. We visited the Voyager where Brian worked for some time.
Brian and his brothers are my cousins, and were my heroes in many ways. I remember the sailboat, the Chris Craft, Brian's MG, the Corvette, and Terry's Kawasaki - the stuff boyhood dreams are made of.
Thanks for the kind words and quiet reflection. Brian was a special guy.
Thanks Kev. I've known Brian almost as long as I've known your dad. He was always a part of everything. The last I spoke to him was when I was in Michigan two years ago - before he knew he had cancer. I wasn't going to be around long enough to go out on the Diamond Jack and had promised to do it the next time I was there. Never put off things like that because you never know ....