I've been thinking a lot about losses this November. Three in particular have been occupying a lot of my grey matter.
We who work in community newspapers are luckier than our counterparts who grace the pages of the big dailies. We get to meet people, and because we see them frequently on the street, we come to think of them as friends and neighbours. And that was the case with the three people I find myself missing.
Kevin Norman was a gifted athlete. I first met him in July 2005 when he'd just won medals in track and field in a Special Olympics competition in Comox. He was a great interview: rather than having to pull words out of his mouth with a crowbar as sometimes happens in this business, Kevin was gregarious to the nth degree.
Over the years we would speak when we saw each other in places like the Sechelt post office, the Community Living office or just passing on the street. A couple of our encounters stick out vividly. When his sister was about to be married, Kevin was excited as all get out. First of all was the wedding itself and secondly was the floatplane ride he was taking to get there. He wasn't sure just what to expect from either experience, but he was sure looking forward to finding out.
The second meeting happened at the community use room in the Sechelt Public Library building. I had foolishly left my expensive Nikon camera there two days earlier. All the way into Sechelt from home, my heart was in my mouth. I could only imagine how I was going to explain that loss to my husband. But when I got to the building almost beside myself with anxiety, there was Kevin in the doorway with his huge smile. When I told him I was looking for my camera, he just grinned and said, "Oh yeah, I knew you'd be here to get it." That truly is one of the best statements I've ever heard in my life.
Kevin passed away in late October and I, along with all his many other friends, will miss him dearly.
Kathie Lesik is someone I'll have a hard time ever forgetting. I interviewed her in May 2007 as part of a feature Coast Reporter did about the Dragons Abreast paddlers when they went to Australia. Kathie was one tough cookie. She had no time for pity or platitudes. "Suck it up, princess," was pretty much her mantra.
The first time I met Kathie, she let me know in no uncertain terms that, while she enjoyed paddling, she was 100 per cent devoted to curling and to make sure I said that in the piece. Who was I to argue?
Kathie went to Australia, knowing she had to cut the trip short to come home for her regular bout of chemo, but go she did, and with her brand of courage it would have been unthinkable not to. Whenever I'm tempted to gripe (more frequently than I'd like to admit), I think of Kathie and somewhere I hear, "Suck it up, princess." When she left us this past summer, it was all too soon.
By the time you read this I will have passed my first Remembrance Day in many years without seeing Ellaf Olafson. Most years when I got to the Gibsons Legion, Ellaf would be there with his son Rod waiting for the ceremony to begin. And while I met Ellaf when he was beginning his gentle goodbye to life, he was a person who touched me with his soft voice and his great smile.
Through the years I heard many great stories about Ellaf. He was awarded a Member of the British Empire for his work during the Second World War on a moveable bridge. An engineer by trade, Ellaf's design allowed transit over inhospitable land. But I think the best part of the story of Ellaf is that after the war he didn't detour to England to claim his medal but instead went straight home to Saskatchewan to his family and got on with the business of living.
When he joined his comrades this fall, I felt the world lost a humble, true gentle man.
How lucky I feel to have known these three remarkable people.
