We are a few days before Christmas. It's raining like Halloween. It hits hard. It's also bad timing because today is the holiday parade at Lighthouse, the children's palliative care home. Anywhere else the activity would have been postponed. At the lighthouse we don't put anything off until later. Later does not exist. We are in the present moment. Life is urgent.
Published at 12:01 am. Updated at 06:00.
Dozens of red and blue flashing lights flash on Mont-Royal Avenue East. Police cars, fire engines, ambulances, police cars and even police officers on their high horses are on their way to Le Phare.
Normally, one might think that there is a terrible disaster in the city. During the holiday season, the alarm lights become Christmas lights for the children of the lighthouse.
Joy alarmed.
David, Eliot and Marilyn watch the parade in the music room, whose large windows look out onto the street. Manolo looks at him through the large glass door. Ali is outside, under a small tent. He gets a little windy, but he wants to be in the front row. Ali does not currently live in the lighthouse. He's been there for some time. He came back this morning on purpose to see this festive convoy with his father Omar and his sister Yara, who always wants to be with him.
Hartlyn listens to Antoinette, the palliative care nurse, describe the action in a separate room away from the noise. Hartlyn doesn't see it. Her illness made her blind. The description fills his heart with images that astonish him.
Even outside, small children from the neighboring CPE came to celebrate.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Eliot, David and Marilyn waited impatiently for the parade.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Paleny and Peter are well surrounded by Santa Claus and the mascots Chef and Flik.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Despite the rain, police officers, firefighters and paramedics marched for the children of the lighthouse.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
The Christmas magic reaches the lighthouse.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
When children make a request to Santa Claus here, it is usually to receive a big hug.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
David with Dipsy, a pediatric palliative care assistance dog
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This annual event, which began in 2020, is thanks to Marco Cerroni, who was then a trainee police officer from John Abbott College. He was touched by the heartfelt cry of little Noah's mother, which was published in the newspaper. His seven-year-old son suffered from brain cancer and spent his last Christmas in the lighthouse. In the middle of the pandemic, Karine doesn't know if her Noah will have the opportunity to see his entire extended family over the holidays. To make this time even more special, she asks people to send her lots of Christmas cards. Noah likes Christmas cards, they make him smile.
In the photo that illustrates the article, we see Noah in a police costume in front of the decorated lighthouse tree. Noah dreams of becoming a police officer. Soon-to-be Marco Cerroni decides to make Noah's Christmas extra special. He mobilizes his future colleagues to march in front of the children's palliative care home in a grand entrance worthy of a president. The initiative was repeated every year.
Police officers, firefighters and paramedics park their vehicles in front of the building's large windows. Accompanied by Santa Claus and the fire department mascot, they enter the lighthouse to deliver gifts to the young people in the large room where Ayoub has been waiting for them for a while.
Such a delegation arriving somewhere is usually noisy and a little noisy. Not here. There is only one way to enter the lighthouse and it is hassle-free. Everything is sweet here. The staff, the visiting families and the surroundings radiate inner peace. Police officers, firefighters and paramedics slowly present their gifts with watery eyes. Santa Claus doesn’t laugh with a big “Ho!” ho! ho! », he smiles tenderly. And if the children ask him, he should be hugged. Quite easy.
Dipsy the dog walks calmly between all these people. She is the pup of the house, the dispenser of affection. The children feel a little more comfortable in his presence.
The party is over. The visitors return to their tasks. Maintain order, put out fires, save lives. This morning her only mission was to make people dream. She is successful. The parade was just as good for them as it was for the little residents. Police officers, firefighters and paramedics are grateful that they were able to make their childhood dreams come true. What Noah couldn't do.
Eliot sleeps in his armchair with his mouth open. The teenager was virtually unaware of the incident. Too tired from a night of movies in his room. Everyone lives their life in the lighthouse. We know there is nothing more important.
I speak to Lyne, the general manager, Ariane, the director of care and services and Gabrielle, the communications consultant. They are all inhabited by the same will. As Ariane so aptly says: “The end of life can be beautiful.” » And everything is beautiful here. The dedication of the people who work there, the love of the parents, the strength of the children, the rooms, the relaxation rooms, the corridor of the enchanted forest. Even the food is good, that is.
Le Phare offers children a full range of pediatric palliative care and services, as well as parenting, support, respite and bereavement counseling. In short, Le Phare offers support for life. Grief support strengthens bonds. And God knows families need it during the holiday season, when absence is more unbearable than ever.
The last time I came to the lighthouse, as I was leaving I noticed a large hook attached to the top of a wall behind the reception desk. It was explained to me that if there is a lamp hanging there and its light is on, it means that one of the residents of the house is having trouble breathing. If the lamp goes out, the lifespan is also too short.
This time nothing was on the hook.
A lamp failed today. Three days later a child died.
Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Christ. The celebration of children who are born, live and grow up. Children shouldn't die. The circle of life doesn't work like that. And yet there are some who die. Christmas is also a celebration of the children who face this fate. Thinking about them, remembering them, gives meaning to the holiday season. We celebrate life. The life that remains. Life is over. The life that looks for a lighthouse to find the way to its destiny. Ours like theirs.
Sweet celebration of life to everyone.
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