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Jeff’s story is one that could be told by anyone: an only child who sought refuge in the world of music, specifically, heavy metal. The covers, the lyrics and the general aggressive and downbeat nature of the genre spoke to a child who found himself an outcast at school, and in the midst of a battleground at home.

It was within his love of Metal that he found what he considered to be his true calling in life, art. In order to get away from his parents and their constant fighting, he took up a job at “Video combo” a local VHS store where he spent most of his freetime drawing, honing his skills. His big breakthrough moment came when a regular to the store -- an odd guy -- who he would come to know as Frank, noticed Jeff’s sketches and took quite the interest in them, asking him to design a mural for his little group that he dubbed “Legion”

Jeff received fifty dollars and a twelve pack of beer, and though it wasn’t much, this meant the world to him, maybe he could do this for a living, maybe this was the escape he always yearned for.

Well, escape is what he would get, but just not in the form that he hoped. His parents declining relationship ultimately ended in divorce and his mother got full custody of him, leading to their departure to Manitoba, completely uprooting Jeff from his hometown, isolating him from all he knew, which resulted in a greater reliance on his escape of music and art.

Though Jeff soldiered, it was all he could do, all that he knew. High school was excruciating, but he was left alone a lot of the time, bullies didn’t really want to mess with someone who dressed and was built like Jeff. Later on he got a job working at the local bar where he got to see his fair share of musical performances, this would help him get a foothold and lead to him becoming a roadie, things were looking up for once.

However, a rock concert isn’t always the most friendliest of places, things always tend to get a bit rowdy, and Jeff ended up getting into a fight, one that would see -- no pun intended -- to him temporarily losing sight in one eye, and by doctor’s orders he was forced to stay in Manitoba, much to his chagrin.

Jeff was never one to whittle away his time and decided that he should make the best of a bad situation, and went back to art school, earning himself an intern-ship and then an office job where he designed labels for microbreweries. Once again his life was back on track, and things were looking good once again, He lived in solitude, away from the shouting voices, away from the inane chatter, but he was far from alone, as he adopted a rescue dog, a fat headed, drooling but ever so loving pitbull who he named Eddie.. For obvious reasons.

One day Jeff received a call, one that informed him of his father’s passing and that there were some things that needed to be sorted out before the funeral. He took off for Ormond that day and when he came back to his family home, all the memories returned with it, the good, the bad, everything.

Among his father’s belongings was a beaten old guitar that still had a gift tag on it “To Jeff, love dad” it read, for the first time in what seemed like forever, Jeff broke down and lamented not being there for his father in his final days - it wouldn’t happen again, he wouldn’t leave anyone else behind, not anymore.

He stayed longer than he anticipated, wanting to let the grief run its course before he returned back home. Seeking comfort he bought a twelve pack of beer and drove up to Mt. Ormond, where he had painted the mural for Frank and his whackjob friends, and he sat there drowning his sorrows.

Hours turned to days, days turned to months, and the months to years. A lot of people assumed Jeff’s grief had gotten the better of him, while his nextdoor neighbor got tired of looking after Eddie, who grew increasingly more agitated by his friend’s absence. Eddie became a stray once again, but this time with great purpose, he knew Jeff was out there somewhere, and he was going to find him