2 Comments

1. Philip Quinn was my friend. He was a character to be sure. He had failings. He failed the expectations of many. But he was perfect, as perfect as you and I are imperfect. He had faith. He was a Christian. In each of our final visits we prayed together, The Lord’s Prayer.
   We had prayed many times through the years. His deep and abiding love for his mother and father and the sorrow over their loss, too early, was exceptionally present at the surface and when we last talked, it was them he spoke of and he knew he was near.
   Sometimes Philip was hilariously human. In open court while making what the news would report as his lawyer’s impassioned plea, (I was making a plea for leniency concerning he and a lobster taking photos together with the Fisheries Officers), when, with a quick turn and swig, he declared loudly to the Fisheries Officers beside him in the court room, “Remember that time you caught me with lobster….He described the incident…. Then he caught sight of my face and he said “Sorry Clare” before the judge tossed Philip, further ashore, so to speak. Philip later laughed about that moment with me, many times.
   Philip wasn’t always the perfect neighbour. It took time and effort. In our first year at the Yurchesyn farm, we had so many nails on a regular basis lining the driveway in the mornings that we needed a magnet to handle them all. Philip later became the best security anyone could ask for. We always laughed about the nails, even in his final days.
   Philip was always thankful for the many meals the folks in the community would make for him. I wonder “Did he tell each of us that he loved our food the best?” My guess is “Yes”. The food kept coming from all directions.
   Bruised and battered, torn and tattered, he lived and loved and laughed as richly, as freely, as any. He lived the dream of many a successful man, to live beside the ocean, the waves and wind licking at the windows, the froth of the sea in the air. It was the love of his life. He liked people, even though he appeared a hermit, and he treated everyone equally, welcoming, whatever the reason for your visit.
   He was smart, and when he found himself twiddling his thumbs after that judge tossed him, he read books as many as he could, from the library ,inside.
   I will miss Philip flying up the driveway on the 4 wheeler. I will miss seeing him going on the lawn mower alone and with a friend, and I will miss that he was always there in his little home by the sea, a folk artist, one professor thought, with all his treasures coming and going.
   I will miss that Philip was always there, a friend to me. He made South Bar a better place to live.
   I will miss his character, his antics, his collecting, his laughter and the mischievous wink in his eye.
   Phlip died with dignity, without pain, in the comfort and loving kindness of Palliative care. He has sailed on, gently, leaving us with memories, that make us smile and laugh and cry. These are his gifts to us. I am better for knowing him. Thank you Philip. “Safe travels By’. We will see you “down at the wharf” and “out on the sea”.
   Clara

2. Philip, you were definitely one of a kind. I will miss you. I will miss hearing a 4 wheeler roaring, knowing it was you. I’ll miss seeing you on a ride on mower making moves through South Bar. I thank you for being protective of my mom, Clara, a protectiveness that you extended to me and Katelyn. Visiting you or vice versa always guaranteed smiles and laughs. I will miss that comfort of knowing you were just a call away. I’m glad that your troubles and pain are over and that you are now reunited with your parents. I admired your faith. Until we meet again, fly high and rest so peacefully. Love always, Melanie xo