The mayor of Québec, Régis Labeaume, is mourning the loss of his father, Maurice Labeaume, to which he bid farewell in a long text, the character a very personal, Saturday morning.
“Maurice Labeaume died, a few hours ago. Labeaume, as in my father. I have the money,” says the first magistrate of Quebec in the text to the accents poetry that extends over more than a hundred lines. Its publication, on Facebook, has quickly generated hundreds of comments of sympathy.
The mayor had revealed, in October last, that his father was seriously ill and that he was the only one who can take care of on a daily basis, being “the only child of the family to Quebec.” He wanted to put an end to rumors on the reasons of his absence from the city council.
We learn in the story of Régis Labeaume that his father died at the age of 86 years died of cancer. “Almost nine months, that it should not exceed three. He fought like a madman. With a hope overwhelmed, that of healing. Fucking cancer. Y’en a marre since a couple of years,” he writes.
The mayor of Quebec city, who has himself conquered a prostate cancer a year ago, admits to having “discovered” his father in the last months of his life, and regrets to be close too late, “a classic,” he says.
In the output footprint of emotion that, for once, has nothing of politics, Mr. Labeaume paid homage to him in speaking of a man “breathtaking”.
“I touched it for the first time, a few months ago. And brushing, can be petted, a few days ago. During his unconsciousness. […] Who knows what it would have been, if we could have a little chat. Earlier say, only a few years earlier”, says he.
Régis Labeaume grew up in a modest background and his father had become a mechanic to offer his children a better education, he explained, in 2017 in a television interview with Michel Barrette.
As well, Maurice Labeaume was a “mechanic, which would have been otherwise,” wrote Saturday, Régis Labeaume. “A mechanic, which allowed me to me, to see otherwise”, he adds, as if to thank him.
The verses are accompanied by an image of the sculpture “Dromeas” also known as “The runner”, made of thousands of pieces of glass, jagged, in Athens. It shows a silhouette running “as our father, against the current, against the storm, to regain health, their dignity,” said Mr. Labeaume.
The chosen one ends the text by expressing his “deep gratitude” to the place of the staff of the hospital’s palliative care Chauveau.
The full message of Régis Labeaume
Maurice Labeaume is deceased,
a few hours ago.
Labeaume, as in my father.
I have the money.
I know, pass away, currently,
it is stunningly banal,
in this era Covidienne.
Bad time for the dying.
He will not even make part of the statistics,
the statistics show.
Almost nine months,
it should not exceed three.
He fought like a madman.
With hope frantic,
that of healing.
Y’en a marre since a couple of years.
The image of the Dromeas we were flabbergasted,
my brothers and me.
As our father,
against the current,
against the storm,
to regain health, his dignity.
Became an avatar of himself,
a metaphor for what he was;
handsome guy, and “right in his boots”
as already said a friend of Bordeaux.
But cognitively intact,
until the last awakening.
It has seen everything of her decay, he has heard it all,
this has increased the evil.
Not chic a body, when it let you go.
Him and I have had a classic.
I discovered it at the age of 86.
He died at the age of 86.
Two lives, a great silence.
What can I say…
It was his time, and me to mine.
A consequence of the other,
or vice versa.
This is stupid but it is what it is.
I touched it for the first time,
a few months ago.
And brushing, can be stroked,
a few days ago.
During his unconsciousness.
It is ugly but it is what it is.
When, like him, you émanes of the crib,
landed in the country of the Piekuakami,
and that starting your life,
love is an abstraction,
it’ll détracte the transmission capacity.
When I recite the beginning of its existence,
poor as a cat with three legs,
and alone, mauditement alone,
I in braille yet.
Then, there’s never been a complaint.
Only of the understanding,
silent, between us.
A kind of love, to us.
It’s just that sometimes, these last few months,
we laughed, together.
A total novelty.
And sometimes even,
the beginning of complicity.
It has me a little puzzled.
I thought about it, I ruminated, and redesigned…
But that is it.
Who knows what it would have been able to give,
if we could have a little chat.
just a few years earlier.
Not serious, we fell in love with.
but loved it anyway.
Just that it would have been to say it.
It was not have to happen like that.
But we’ve not done badly,
all in all.
That said, it is learned.
It is not required to be repeated.
A little grief.
The IQ of the guy.
I guessed not so much.
A meccano set, which would have seen otherwise.
It could have been, if he had been born in my place.
A mechanic, who has allowed me to be me,
to see otherwise.
In the end,
if that was possible,
and that there would be a grain of truth to all of this,
I tricoterais a happy ending.
But there is nothing to prevent the small poetry,
As well, a dream.
“In the cosmos,
after twenty years of eternity,
after the drowning/AVC,
it is your choice,
our man, and Lucy said to Teresa,
are again into an embrace. “
Lucy said to Teresa.
The direction of a matriarchal tribe.
A quirky side, but well high.
A franchise, almost Tourettes.
She did not speak,
she collected the octaves.
And this gift, this generosity,
to decipher the best of the human,
and to celebrate it.
“Then these two,
the intro, the extra,
antipodes, but intended,
have created something,
not simple, but something,
such as a planet.
That alone, perhaps, have inhabited.
To spare us.
freed from the Earth,
they were due,
due to a magnificent end of time.
And death, it would be worthwhile to be lived. “
RIP p pa.
You have been so courageous.
Your life during.
and JC, on our part.
Your three survivors:
American, radio-canada and the mayor.
My brothers and I wish to express our deep
gratitude to the staff of the wing of palliative care
the Hospital Chauveau:
Dr. Atamna, to Pascale, Chantal, Carol, Dany, Marie-Andree, Christine,
Isabelle, Jean, Irene, Diane and Diane, Sylvie, Manon, Isabelle again,
Sylvie again, Andrée, Fazia, Alice, Elsa, Gerard,
Caroline and Madeleine.
There are no words to thank you once again for everything,
and to repeat you all our affection.
Before them, our same feelings towards the staff
of the Hotel-Dieu of Quebec, the RCCO and the Residence St-Philippe.