Home »
May we all live life as well as Bonnie
Homegrown
By Stephanie Stevens
Op-Ed Commentary
“Am I dressed ok?”
My husband Tony stood in the kitchen, unsure if his jeans and sweater outfit was formal enough for a memorial service.
“It’s perfect,” I replied. He fidgeted a moment, and I reassured him again.
“Bonnie would not want a big fussy thing. What you are wearing is just right.”
And it was.
Standing at Windermere Beach, Bonnie’s Beach, packed with people all dressed in similar fashion, cups of tea clutched in their hands, we listened as Mark, Ryan and Pat spoke of Bonnie’s life, a life so very well lived.
We listened, laughed, cried… raised a toast. We were silent as Pat performed the blessing, for his wife, for his sons, for each of us.
Gathered after, at the greenhouse at Edible Acres, the mood was not the sombre one you might expect when we are saying goodbye. Instead, there was laughter, stories, friends, family… and if you did not know Bonnie, if you never had the chance, standing there among all those people would have told you all you needed to know.
As I sit here on this cold grey morning, a couple of days later, the words to write about Bonnie are pulled out of me gently. And each time my fingers pause, I see her face, smiling at me, encouraging me. Reminding me…
Bonnie was laughter, and love. She was adventure, and art, and being the best you can be. She was being exactly who you are, all that you are, all the time. And more than that, she was about making our valley home the best IT could be.
I met the Bavins en masse when I started working at the ski shop in Fairmont. I was a kid, all of 19. And I thought Bonnie was amazing, from that smile I keep coming back to, right up to that wild and wonderful hair. Something deep inside me tugged, some yearning to grow into who I was going to be. I wonder if she knew how often she was my inspiration to be a better person, to truly embrace who I am?
Likely not. She was too fine a person to imagine that of herself.
She just was who she was, and it was our good fortune to have known her.
We talk about people being an integral part of the fabric of our community. But Bonnie was more like a weaver.
She added, encouraged and combined the best parts of who we all are. She pulled to the forefront, from each of us, the beauty and colour of life.
My words will never be good enough to capture who Bonnie Bavin was, who she will continue to be. Her legacy is within all those people who arrived Saturday, as well as in all those who were not able to be there.
I watched as my husband watched. Usually gregarious, he was quiet as he listened to people talking about her, moving from place to place: learning, feeling who she was.
And as I moved from group to group, hugging old friends, listening to their stories, surrounded by food and music and all things good, it occurred to me that she is still here. The best part of her will never leave. Her gifts to us were in that greenhouse Saturday, gifts we will hold on to always.
While I stood with Pat, in a warm embrace, we talked quietly. After two and half years, quietly fighting the fight with ovarian cancer, it was a release for not just Bonnie, but for all who loved and cared for her. There is a new freedom for Bonnie now, to explore ahead of us.
She will be waiting with a cup of tea and that smile.
And while she waits, may we all remember to smile and laugh, to love, to create, to have adventures and explore new things.
May we all live life as well as Bonnie did.
– Stephanie Stevens is a Columbia Valley journalist and rancher
