Blake Alexander MacMillan (BAM)

Hello, I'm Jan Van de Vyvere. Like you, I'm here today to remember Blake and to share memories of him in the hope that by being together with Margaux, Mela and Don we might ease their pain at his loss. His life was short but his spirit lively.  It is his vitality that we will always remember. 

I first saw his beaming little face when he was three.  He came running to greet Jay as we entered the door of the daycare. His eyes were so wide with the promise of fun and mischief that I wished I could have stayed and joined them. 

A year later I did. I quit work and started a daycare at our place. Most days Blake and Jay were my only customers.  And we did have fun. If Blake wanted to do something, he did it with an energy and enthusiasm that was contagious.  

One day we went to a pool in Ottawa where I discovered another of Blake's qualities, determination. He was a skinny little kid who didn't really like swimming much; his lips turned blue after about three minutes in the water, but when he heard that I wanted to teach them to dive, he was determined to learn. We went to the deep end. He prepared exactly as I had instructed.  Just before taking the plunge, he turned to look at me one last time. His expression was serious. The space between his furrowed brows seemed to be flushed with the intensity of his effort.  Then he lowered his head and dove in.  As he rose up out of the water, eyes wide and mouth spluttering, I saw that bits of his breakfast were beginning to rise up after him.   He swam to the edge, and as I pulled him out, we shared a conspiratorial  look and moved to another part of the pool, leaving the cereal to settle on its own.  He dove so many times that day that his lips turned purple but the rest of his breakfast stayed down and he did learn to dive.

Blake Alexander MacMillan, BAM!   That pretty well sums him up. When he was around there was very little neutral ground.  He was his own person, but he had elements of Mela and Don in him. 

If he took on a task, he finished it,and well. If he was your friend, he was generous, fun to be with and true.  He sought the best in himself, in everything and in everybody. He was as  pleased with his friends' successes as he was with his own. 

When he fell in love with Margaux,it was our turn to rejoice in his joy, and we did. They were soul mates.

He is no longer with us in the flesh, but the memory of his lively spirit will remain to encourage us and to brighten our lives at moments when we might least expect it.  

Monday, May 16, 2016

Edmonton to Ottawa

May and Jay were up with me this morning before six. They had some complex arrangements involving dropping off his truck at the garage and both getting to work; the girls were on their own to get to school. Mo picked me up at 6:00am and drove me to the airport.  Then she had to get back to Vernon to go on the clear before Sunday's Sugarloaf hike, which she volunteered to lead for me. I thought we had arrived in time for me to have the traditional Tim's coffee and bagel BLT breakfast, but I was wrong. There were a lot of people at the airport, so after checking in, I had to get right onto the security lineup. I don't mind the flying part of air travel, but all the removing of shoes, prohibiting of liquids, X-raying of luggage, showing of photo ID multiple times, charging extra for all stowed luggage ( which is done on relatively expensive national flights but not on bargain international ones), having to pay if you want to eat anything other than pretzels or cookies, etc, might ground me. But it is faster than driving in spite of all the frustrations, and I have no worries for food; May sent me off with enough granola bars to get me to Vladavostoc, and I'll be in Ottawa in about three hours, after leaving Edmonton one hour ago. The little plane on the tv monitor is approaching Winnipeg. 

Jay is working all week and flying to Ottawa on Friday. Because it's a long weekend, he won't have to fly home until Monday. He had been looking forward to showing Blake and Margaux the wonders of Vernon, not flying back to Ottawa himself to be at Blake's funeral. 

Talking of flying, this mother mallard in Polson Park flew at me right after I took this picture. 

Sunday, May 8

It's a week since Blake died.  And life goes on, as it does.  Sometimes I feel stunned for a moment, as if punched in the stomach,  but other parts of the day carry on.  I am enjoying my holiday in Victoria.  The weather has been perfect.  Every morning begins as it always used to with coffee and conversation in B and T's living room.  We have had lunch together a few times and gone for a walk and coffee by the Gorge. Yesterday we visited the Victoria Art Gallery.  Part of it is the impressive old home of the Spencer family.  We spent most of our time looking at an exhibit of watercolours very thoughtfully put together from the gallery's permanent collection.  This was followed by beer, white wine for B, and a meatball sandwich in a pizza restaurant that I had wanted to return to for pizza but then got distracted by the lunch special.

I had a good walk and lunch with Ross and Liz last week, and we will do the same tomorrow.  On Tuesday I will join Barbara and her group, The Old Roses, some women who tended the old rose garden at Government House in Victoria a few years ago.  And then I will drive home on Wednesday, earlier than originally planned.  I have booked a flight to Ottawa for Mon., May 16 in order to  be able to see Don and Mela and do whatever I can to help them.  The memorial service for Blake will be on May 21.

Aside from this, I have had a couple of bike rides on the Galloping Goose and dipped my inflatable kayak into the Pacific twice, once at Willows Beach and once in the Gorge and Inner Harbour.  Both times I was lucky to meet people who helped me either by easing my fear of tipping alone on entry or by giving me helpful tips.  Now I have started from a beach and a dock in both fresh and salt water; each time I feel more confident.  It's fun just to be out on the water; I never was one to push even the flimsiest of envelopes, but I find that at this age I am thrilled just by being there. 

Barbara and Terry having coffee by The Gorge

One of my favourite watercolours in the exhibit

About the artist

The BC Legislature from the kayak

The little ferry whose driver intentionally passed close to me as I was taking the preceding picture. He and his passengers got more of a kick out of it than I did. 

Liz, Jan and rhododendrons

Ross and I on the beach. I might have been trying to glimpse Mercury crossing the sun. 

Blake

On Sunday, May 1, Blake died while riding his dirt bike in Calabogie.  Blake Alexander MacMillan, BAM, boy and man, an enthusiast, determined, insistant upon getting the best from himself, others, gear, everything.  He was always truly delighted when things went well, whether for himself or his friends. 

Jay and I are devastated to lose him. He has been part of our lives since Jay was two and they were together in daycare. Mela, Don, Jim and I and the boys had almost every Sunday dinner together all the years that we lived in Wakefield.  The boys were like brothers, very different individuals brought close by many shared expiences both with and without their parents. 

I'm too tearful to write more at this time but couldn't let the moment go unnoted.