My father, John Byron VanEvery, died on Christmas Day. He was 92. He died at home in his own bed, as he wished.
Several years ago, I started writing about things I’d learned from him and created a category for those posts. I also want to share an edited version of what I wrote on FaceBook a few days after his death.
I don’t have a lot of pictures of Dad. He was the guy who took pictures, but that started after I’d left home. When I was growing up we weren’t really a big photo album family. But I found this one of us playing cards when they visited in 2017. And I’ve got one from when I was small already uploaded.
Earlier this year, Dad told me he’d phoned the surgeon who’d done his heart bypass to mark the occasion of the 25th anniversary of that operation. Apparently, at the time, the surgeon had said it would be good for 25 years. And it seems like a good anniversary to mark.
Dad had lived with heart disease for a long time. When I say lived, I mean lived. When he planned the trip to Nahani National Park for the summer of his granddaughter’s wedding several years ago, I had the distinct impression that he’d done all the stuff on his bucket list but read the Globe & Mail travel section which gave him lots of new ideas.
Travelling was a big part of his life. He travelled for work when I was a kid. He was in sales. He particularly liked Atlantic Canada and it was on a sales trip to Nova Scotia and Newfoundland in the spring of 1974 that he learned that Dobson’s Stationers, in New Glasgow, was for sale. We had moved there by July and he ran and grew that business, until he retired in the early 90s, at which point they moved back to St Catharines. They went back east regularly on holiday and kept in touch with friends there.
When I lived in the UK in what I think of now as the long 1990s, they visited pretty much every year. They would spend 2 or 3 days with us, go off on some kind of trip, spend another 2 or 3 days with us. Sometimes they’d do that twice in one trip. Those trips included Islay, the Orkneys, Ireland, and Cornwall. In fact it was on one of those trips, in late autumn 1996, that he’d had the angina attack that led to the heart bypass. Apparently the hospital in Tipperary is very nice.
They also did some long road trips in Canada. Like the one to check out the “new road” from Labrador City to Goose Bay, going out via Churchill Falls and returning via Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. Or the time they drove to Inuvik and a bear broke into their car when they went for a walk on the Bruce Trail near Tobermory. The bear only stole my dad’s home-baked bread.
As they aged, the long drives got replaced with long train journeys or boat trips. They’ve been to Vancouver on the train more than once. They also took a boat (with their car) from Montreal to les Îles de la Madeleine, then on to PEI, and Nova Scotia, returning the same way. There was a Mediterranean cruise one year. And a trip to Norway after Dad’s brother died, which involved a cruise from Bergen to Tromso. (apparently there is a nice craft brewery in Tromso).
Although he thought it might be too much, they came over to visit us in spring 2017 and again in the summer of 2018. He was glad he got to see where I live now, and to have one last holiday at our cottage in Herefordshire.
Dad stopped driving a few years ago. And he’d been using a walker or a cane. That meant he was moving a lot more than he would have without one. They started limiting their trips to more local things. They went on some organized coach trips that they enjoyed including a 3 day one in the autumn to see the leaves. And various 1-day trips to Stratford (Ontario) for a play and dinner. They’d been to Guelph to see a musical only a few weeks before he died. And they had season tickets to the Niagara Symphony Orchestra. And went to things at the Shaw.
So when I say he “lived” with heart disease, I mean lived. That said, he was very aware of his mortality. We talked about it. We talked about plans for his death. He showed me the binder with all the details in it. The first time I was aware of thinking “this might be the last time I see him” was about 15 years ago, when they were on their way to Iqaluit via Ottawa. I’ve definitely had this thought more frequently in the past few years. When I decided not to go over last summer, I was very aware that it might mean that my visit for his 90th in February 2020 might be the last time I saw him in person. And I recall a few times over the last year where I’ve wondered if I should flat out say “It’s okay if you go, if you’re ready.” Because he really did seem to be much more frail.
In other words, when Mom phoned Christmas Eve to tell me that he was saying he was on his way out, I wasn’t surprised. He’d called himself on the 16th. Apparently he’d called all 4 of us that day. She insisted there was nothing I could do and she wanted me to enjoy Christmas as planned, so I took her at her word. And I wondered, as I went to sleep Christmas night, whether he had already gone or not. I didn’t lose sleep over it. (I don’t lose sleep over much, tbh.) And I didn’t really think about it much in the morning. It was nice to have it confirmed when they got up.
My sister said something in a message that resonates “I know it is just his body, he is at peace.” Her faith is different than mine, but that gets close to how I feel.
He had a good long life, and enjoyed it. He was married to my mom for 60 years. He had good relationships with all his kids, and his grandkids. Most of his friends are dead. He was ready to go. It’s sad.
I’m sure I’ll think of him periodically, and add things to the Learned from Dad series on here.
John Byron VanEvery: Born 25 February 1930 in Kitchener, Ontario. Died 25 December 2022, in St Catharines, Ontario. Survived by his wife Barbara, children David, Diane, Jo, and Will, and grandchildren.
If you would like to honour his memory, he was a long time supporting of Bethlehem Housing & Support Services (opens in a new window) in the Niagara region, chairing their board for several years.
