BILL Howdle started his online journal as a way of dealing with his impending death.
Three months later, the North End man has received 10,000 visits to his site from people around the world. They're drawn by his honesty, folksy advice and the musings of an ordinary man.
Bill Howdle set up his blog as a way of dealing with his impending death from heart disease.
Howdle, 53, may be dying from heart failure but he is determined to leave his mark behind.
"This really started when I got my news," says the former bank manager. "I started reading books and learning things and I realized that the living find it really difficult to talk to the dying. Things don't get said. The person dies and there are all these regrets."
The Dying Man's Daily Journal was launched.
It was intended as a series of diary entries, nothing more than the chance for Howdle to work through his own pain, tell a few stories and make some sense of his life. He hadn't planned to tell Vi, his common-law wife or his two grown daughters about the blog.
But he got hooked on writing -- and strangers got hooked on him.
"I'm not really a writer. I treat it like a journal. I don't spellcheck it. I don't know what I'm going to say until I say it," Howdle says, his words coming out in short, laboured huffs.
"It fills a big need for me. I started this with the idea that maybe I could help other people. This has been more help to me than it could possibly be for other people."
Still, he receives heartfelt comments from strangers who feel they know him. They chat about Vi, about the birth of his grandchild, about how he is feeling that day. Some turn to him for advice, something that makes Howdle uneasy.
"I've been told I'm a blessing, an inspiration. I've been asked if I'm God," he says with a laboured chuckle. "How do you answer that? I'm not a doctor. I'm not a minister. I'm just me."
Bill Howdle had his first heart attack in 1991 when he was 39. Another followed in 1996 and he had open heart surgery. There was a third attack in 2000 and the latest in 2003. Six months ago, he was diagnosed with diabetes.
In 2004, a cardiologist told Howdle his heart failure was progressing and he was dying. How much time does he have left? That's the $64,000 question.
"There's no way to tell. It could be three days, three weeks, three months."
He comes from a stock that dies early.
"If you're a Howdle male and you make it to your mid-sixties you're an old guy," he smiles.
After struggling with rage, sadness and regret, Howdle headed down to the chilly basement of his small Bannerman Ave. bungalow, learned about blogs and began to type. In the beginning, he planned to leave Vi a note, directing her to the site after he was gone.
"I just thought this might be kind of rubbing her nose in it, reminding her that I'm dying," he says. "But she actually found it on my computer and we talked about it. She needed to know.
"I realized, for whatever reason, the good Lord spared me through four heart attacks. He gave me time to prepare. I needed to give the two kids and Vi time to prepare."
He pauses, catches his breath, sips his coffee.
"I'm not afraid to die. By typing and writing it the more convinced I became of it. I find it so, so gratifying for people to come back with positive comments on it."
And then Bill Howdle, cradling his mug and trying to keep his breathing even, explains his real motivation. It speaks to anyone who has even had a dark night of the soul, taken a close look and wondered where the meaning in life can be found.
"I sort of had the feeling in my life that I haven't really done anything. Fine, I've been a banker but if it hadn't been me sitting behind that desk it would have been someone else. Other than bringing two wonderful daughters into the world, there was nothing I had done that really made a difference."
And so he types. Every day he climbs slowly down the basement stairs and tells his stories. Sometimes he writes about his love for Vi. Sometimes they are just musings on life and death and the whole ball of wax. He talks about death in a way that's philosophical, wry and sensible.
Out there somewhere reading those words are Bill's fans, supporters and well-wishers.
There is one blog entry he knows can't write. He's already set it up, blocked off the space and titled it "Vi Speaks."
And on the day they see it, Bill's readers will know his story has come to an end.
lindor.reynolds@freepress.mb.ca
Lindor Reynolds blogs
at www.winnipegfreepress.com
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