Erv's Bench

Today was the one year anniversary of the death of our dear friend Erv Doerksen. His family paid a very special tribute to him. As you can see by the photo, we went for a walk in the rain to participate in this special tribute.

After a 15 minute walk on the lush forest trails, we came to McKay Creek, which empties into the Sumas River.

It is beside the footbridge over the creek, and overlooking the Sumas River, where Deloris and her family had a memorial park bench installed in Erv's memory.

It is in a very restful shady spot, with a great view. We were the first to arrive.

Soon there were fifty people there, all caring enough to come straight from work to walk down a muddy path and through the rain.

Deloris was there with her kids and grand kids.

Erv's very best friend, Ernie, was there.

Erv's mom was a real trooper and braved the long walk with her cane.

If I said that I have thought about Erv every single day since his death, it would not be 100% accurate, but it would be close. My memories are strong enough, recent enough, and fond enough to almost accomplish a perfect score, but what really does it for me are all the reminders in my everyday life.

Every Sunday night I think about Erv. It was our Care Group night, and he was our leader.

Every Sunday morning, I glance over to the section of seats, in church, where Erv and Delores usually sat. As the service progresses, I often think, "Erv would really dislike that music." Or, "Erv would really like that sermon today. We have to discuss that at Care Group or on one of our walks." 

Every time I see Deloris I think of  Erv. I often see the strain in her face and know that she is still struggling. 

Whenever I see Erv's grand kids in church, I think of Erv and how much he would be enjoying those beautiful children. 

When I hear Jazz, I think of Erv. 

When I see a kayak, I think of Erv. 

Whenever I used to pass a Scamp truck, I would strain to see through the windshield to see if it was Erv, and sometimes it was. When next I saw him, I would ask if he was in such and such a location on a certain day at a certain time, just to confirm. Today, when I see a Scamp truck, I look, not for Erv, for I know he is not behind the wheel, but because it has become a habit and I like to be reminded that I used to be able to see him by chance, anytime, anywhere. 

I recently bought one of his books at our annual Mwanza fund raising garage sale, and I will be reminded of him every time I see it or pick it up. 

And now, there is another reminder. There is a park bench, strategically placed in one of his favourite places to walk, a marvelous place to contemplate life with Erv, and life without Erv. It will be particularly meaningful to me because Erv and I used to walk past that very spot on our way to MacDonald Park. Whether through rain or sunshine, we would eat up the miles, deep in meaningful conversation, but always stopping to marvel at the beauty around us. He would bring his binoculars along, eager to see a rare species of water fowl, or an eagle on a distant treetop.

One time, before we knew it, we had walked six kilometres, and it dawned on us that we were a bit tired, but now we had to walk back. After a brief rest, we headed back. When we finally returned to the parking lot where our vehicle was, it hit me how 'done in' I was, but never once on the walk did I notice it. Conversation with Erv was like that. Totally engrossing. 

Henceforth, when I walk to Mackay Creek, or beyond, I will not walk past the bench. I will sit and contemplate. I will remember Erv, and then I will take great delight in imagining what it will be like to see him again. I know I will.