While camping a couple summers ago, we got word that, after years battling a variety of health issues, one of my dad’s ten siblings had started to fail and passed away soon after.
Considering that dad was from a family of ten kids and all of his siblings had managed to reach their late 60s, 70’s and even their 80’s, as sad as her passing was, I thought that was (and continues to be) a pretty amazing demonstration of genetic longevity.
Although we were obviously much younger than all our respective parents, I thought it was also fortunate that, of the ~30 or so cousins I had from those 10 aunts and uncles, we’d only lost one up to that point.
But then, only a couple short months after my Aunt Verna died, we got word that one of her sons had been diagnosed with cancer.
Having grown up in Indian Head where my grandma lived, I was extremely fortunate to get to spend time with most of my cousins when they came to visit in a way that perhaps the cousins who lived in Vancouver might not know the cousins in Calgary might not know the cousins in Saskatoon might not know the cousins in Winnipeg and so on.
That meant I had a lot of “favourite” cousins but Verna’s son, Curtis was always one of my “favourite favourites” if that makes sense.
In terms of personal interests, we were very different – he loved hunting, fishing, he worked at a brick factory in Estevan and as a pipe fitter in Fort McMurray. In all honesty, even as a Saskatoon-born and raised “city” kid, he probably loved farming more than I did. 😉
But in terms of personalities, we shared a lot. Generosity. Kindness. Empathy. Humour. And with Curtis being only seven years older than me, I looked up to him immensely.
I remember when I was working around rural Saskatchewan as a summer job during college. I was going to be working in some towns around Saskatoon so tracked Curtis down to ask if I could stay with him and his then-girlfriend, now wife, Tracy which would allow me to pocket my per diem.
He said, “Sure, no problem” without hesitation and when I tried to offer him some of money, he said “No, of course not. What is family for?”
At the end of my time staying with them, I left a bottle of booze as a thank-you for when he got home from work and I later got a phone call from an uncharacteristically angry sounding Curt.
“I just wanted to thank-you…I’m sorry if you didn’t want it,” I sputtered.
“No, I’m not mad about that!” he said. “The next time you buy a bottle, you make sure you’re able to be around to drink it with me!” Then he started laughing.
I mentioned that Curt worked in Estevan and that’s another fond memory – going down to visit with my parents who I think stayed in his bed in his small bachelor apartment while he slept on the couch and my sister and I slept on the floor.
I was awoken being licked by one of the many pitbulls Curtis owned over the years. One other highlight of that visit – reading major heavy metal fan Curt’s copies of Circus magazine and being exposed to stories and photos that many wouldn’t normally let a kid my age read (could you say that a hard-working labourer helped influence my decision to become an anti-censorship librarian? Probably!)
Only a couple months ago, I posted a picture of myself in goalie equipment as part of a post about the Humboldt Broncos tragedy.
What I didn’t mention in that post was that the goalie equipment belonged to my cousin Curtis and the picture was taken when my family stayed with his family during a visit in Saskatoon.
As with all my cousins, I have so many fond memories of Curtis (or Cur-tay-us as my dad always called him) – funny, touching, embarrassing.
Cancer fucking sucks. It fucking sucks. It fucking fucking sucks.
And I especially hate anytime that it means a parent outlives his children (my aunt Verna didn’t but Curt’s dad did) or that younger children are left without a parent, both of which are the case now that Curtis has passed.
I also mentioned the size of our family and our relative longevity in both the aunts and uncles and (knock on wood) the cousins. Which makes the fact that so much loss has occurred within one single branch of the family tree, in such a relatively small period of time, especially tragic.
I honestly don’t know what else to say so I think I’ll just leave it at that.
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Hi Jason,
I have been meaning to ask you how the funeral was, I wish I could have attended but stuff going on that prevented it. Love your tribute to Curtis, and I too have held him in the same regard as one of my “Favorite, Favorite Cousins” I am mad at myself now for not making time over the years to spend more time with him and his family. His wife and kids are virtual strangers to me, although I was very impressed with his kids, I have them both on facebook and I sent each of them a note to express my sympathy. They both responded and were very receptive to the message even giving what they are going through. To me, that shows that Tracy & Curt did a great job raising them. He was one of a kind and loved by all of us, he was way too young to go.
Take care,
Susan (Your other favorite, favorite cousin…LOL)
Thanks for writing, favourite favourite cousin #3! 😉
The funeral was very nice – quick with maybe half a dozen people giving remembrances (including dad who spoke on behalf of the Hammond side of the family) but tough too – obviously because of Curt dying so young but especially so soon after his mom was the first of the 10 Hammond siblings to pass away.
But as you say, his kids are pretty amazing and a testament to he and Tracey’s parenting and they will carry Curt’s personality and legacy forward.
Tamara made a beautiful video tribute that they showed before the funeral and I mentioned that she might consider uploading it as some of the family members who couldn’t make the funeral might be interested in seeing it. When I get a moment, I’ll touch base with her to see if she’s willing to do that (though I would also understand completely if she wanted to keep it private and “for the moment” during the funeral too.)
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