BC Politics with Hubert Beyer

GOODBYE MY DEAR, BEAUTIFUL SON

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VICTORIA – My dear, dear Roderick. You were born on a cold winter’s night in Winnipeg on November 29, 1962. You died in a spring night in Victoria on March 13, 1996.

I sit here in the press gallery, trying to make sense of it. All I can come up with is tears. Something inside compels me to write this. No parent should have to bury a child. It offends the natural order.

How gladly I would trade places with you. I have had a full life of which you were such a great and wonderful part. But here I am, white hair, white beard, 61 years old, and very much alive, while you, a beautiful young man, not even in the prime of your life, are dead.

Your mother and I feel trapped in an uncaring universe. She gave birth to you, we raised you, we loved you so much, and now we have to bury you. Oh, Roderick, it hurts so much. If there is a God, he’s never been more distant.

You told your mother and me recently, when death was the furthest thing from your mind, that if anything ever happened to you, you want us to look after your beautiful little daughter.

This we promise you, my boy, we will make sure that Pamela grows up to be a wonderful woman. And we will keep her father’s memory alive.

She said what makes her really sad is that her daddy will never see her grow up now. She, too, wonders why God allowed this to happen, and I didn’t have an answer. I certainly am not going to tell an eight-year-old child that God had a reason to take her daddy from her.

And it’s just a week ago that Pamela said to your mother how lucky she is that she has a daddy who loves her so much.

Pamela is a great solace to us. She looked out the window yesterday and told us the ocean never shimmered that brightly. "That’s my daddy saying goodbye to me," she said.

Later that day, she spotted an eagle soaring overhead. I told her that could well be her daddy’s spirit.

The family has never been closer. Charles, Gary and Patricia miss their brother so terribly. Yesterday, we remembered you in stories of your childhood and adult years. And at the heart of whatever story we told was your irrepressible spirit, your humor, your zest for life, the total absence of cynicism and pessimism.

I’m told it’s part of the healing process, but I don’t believe it yet. The pain keeps washing over me in great waves.

Without family and friends It would be nearly impossible to bear. And friends have been wonderful in their support of us. I have never been hugged more than these past few days. And never before did I need to be hugged and loved as much.

The phone hasn’t stopped ringing. Mark, your best friend since you were eight years old, phoned to say he will come over from Vancouver to visit with us. Two of your cousins from Germany are arriving this afternoon. Our place is ablaze with flowers.

I wish so much I could turn back time. I want to hug you one more time and tell you how much I love you.

Now, the memories will have to do. And what beautiful memories they are. When you were a baby, you never wanted to grow up. And in a way, you never did. Your heart was that of a child. You loved unconditionally.

I don’t know whether they have newspapers where you are now, but I hope that somehow, you can read this. I hope you can feel the love and memories you left behind.

My dear, beautiful Roderick, I miss you so much.

(Roderick died suddenly as a result of an accident that happened two years ago. The railing of a sundeck collapsed and he fell 12 feet, sustaining head injuries. He appeared back to normal when he suffered a massive brain aneurysm.