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I’m Glenna Munro, dubbed Eric’s honorary aunt, honoured to have joined Eric, Laurie and David in their home, and on many of their travels, and honoured to have been adopted by Eric.
Aunt duties have included long games of NHL together on the computer, long afternoons of shinny, taking shots on Eric in goal, pummelling him in pillow fights onboard Reunion and paddling beside him over the years, watching him grow.
His sudden death is a tragic loss and I’m not sure if I’m ready for all those coincidental experiences to come that will remind me of what was so unique about our Eric.
Already, on the way here this week, the round-topped baseball cap on the black-haired young man in front of me brought immediately to mind Eric’s love of just the right hat, just the right shoes or just the right outrageous colour or new shirt. And again, the profile of a young man in a window, eating, brought back to me how often I took pleasure in just watching Eric eat.
One of my fondest memories is of how well Eric fed all of us on a 28-day canoe trip. He caught 50 fish on that trip, enough for us and a dinner for Jazz each day.
On that same trip, he and I also laughed and giggled in our tent so as not to cower and howl like Jazz, the dog trembling in between us in a raging thunderstorm.
Eric was passionate himself, even raging often, too. He had bravado busting out all over the place and yet, was most often a quiet guy, shy to step out and try new things, fearful often, not unlike many of us. I have been most proud in these last few years to see how Eric was growing to recognize these parts of himself with honesty. As a testament to the steadfast love and commitment on David and Laurie’s part, Eric was beginning to recognize in himself the courage to do things like travel on his own, hunker down and graduate, and step out to take on a job.
His potential for taking on responsibility was already often evident. Out sailing in a field of growlers, those smaller iceberg bits that threaten a boat, Eric insisted on taking the wheel and steering us through safely. On the day when a grizzly bear walked into our lunch spot and Jazz got busy chasing it away, Eric had the presence of mind to retrieve the bear spray, just in case it returned.
It’s not fair, really not fair, that Eric died so young and with him, all that potential. But, though Eric didn’t have the chance to share a great, long length of time with us, what he did do was touch us all deeply, in immeasurable ways.
I will go into the round of another new year, this year and every year to come, remembering how Eric connects me to the great, returning round that is life, love of friends and family, and memories of him. Thank you, Eric. Goodbye.
