I was reading Karin Fossum's book "broken". She described a dream of many people lined up outside her door, waiting patiently for her. They are all characters that wait for her to write about them and bring them to life and a world around them. It becomes complicated when they come in the house and start pressing her for first consideration…

When I set aside my reading, I discover that Darrell is knocking at my memory and asking for a moment of my time. He does not need to be brought to life and articulated like a fictional character. Darrell Darnell has been here on earth, lived large across the world and stages of life. He died much earlier than I, and he stays not outside my door but closer and more vivid, in my heart. I let him, I ask him, I conjure his image to rise up again to share with you, the living readers who knew bits of him and maybe loved him as well.

How does one love well? Could I have answered the phone more often, spoke to him longer, listened closer, and hugged him longer? He called me father sometimes. I struggled with the title - I have two daughters - could I cope with a son? I am 58 to his 44 so it was only barely chronologically possible. He was 19 when he attended my wedding to Wanda 25 years ago. Of course I could have loved him better - but I am still learning how. He did want to find a father, as his own father left often when he was a child and died young. His mother and sisters were closer and more important to him and he loved them as well as he could.

I met him when he was 14 and I was 28. He was adrift from his family but he was awake and alive and funny and active. School was not understanding of Darrell and his need to be one of the wild members of his class. This was a tragic system failure because he was so good at thinking, fast at learning and swift with mechanics and people. It drove me up the wall that I lost so many Scrabble games with him, and sometimes even chess games. He loved seven letter words in Scrabble. He thrilled an elderly scrabble club in Chilliwack (which was definitely the semi-pro league) by attending and playing for several months - they would be amazed that they outlived him.

Darrell had a criminal record for stealing pants when he was 18 - it was terrible that he was never pardoned for it as he was a law observing and honest fellow that should never have had this strike against him when he was looking for work. Many times in life he got not the brass ring but shit sandwich, but pressed on with remarkable humour and resilience.

How could I forget him - his work and gifts are still around me. Darrell replaced the counter and sink in our bathroom and installed the Venetian blinds in our master bedroom. He replaced the thermocouple in our water heater when it quit and saved me a service call or even a bogus $1,100 early water heater replacement. Why did he know with absolute certainty about a $20 dollar thermocouple being what it needed?? Because he had a new renaissance mind and it was an example of why he was really a valuable guy to have around.

We have a picture on our wall of Lupo, the white German Sheppard, and Darrell with his hair long and bushy, when they were both healthy young dogs in Toronto. Lupo was his best animal partnership and bond, and it was a closeness to make his friends and former girlfriends jealous and fond, both.

Darrell sniffed at other peoples ideas, dug out the themes, and peed on convention, pricked the balloons of pompous friends like me. He was stubborn, opinionated and prone to galloping in his conversations, his logic and in his dreams, like Lupo in front of a fire.

Darryl taught me many things enhancing my life immensely. I continue to love him impatiently and miss him.

Eric Mulholland