Saturday, August 19, 2023
What a beautiful obituary—the very essence of a dear friend of mine. Our friendship began in the 70s, when I started work as a physiotherapist at the Aberdeen Hospital. Your recounting of his love of nature brought to mind his arrival at the old farmhouse we were renting in Little Harbour, a bee hive in his car’s trunk that he put by the ancient apple trees. On another occasion, he arrived with a pail and shovel, intent on digging clams at the property’s water edge. At work, for months and months we spent at least half of every lunch hour playing cards, as he tried to up my rudimentary kitchen table skills to those of a competent duplicate bridge player. He had the patience of a saint. I became his regular weekly partner at the duplicate bridge club, but I wasn’t the best student. I’m sure our record for the most tricks down still stands, and for which I take total responsibility. The beautiful bouquet he and Clary gave me the last night I played before moving back to the Valley comes to mind.
In recent years, I visited him at his apartment whenever I was in the area—the last time just before COVID. He never seemed to change with age. We were always able to pick up where we’d left off at our previous meeting, to me the sign of a true friendship. Never a sign of awkwardness or not knowing what to say next.
I think I’m sharing these thoughts and memories of your father with you as much for my own benefit as for yours: they would be meaningless to anyone unless they knew him well, and there’s no such person around with whom to reminisce. He was a wonderful friend and a true gentleman, and I am sad that I will never see him again.
My condolences to the family.
Anne-Marie Waterbury
