My Brother Ed

My family was recently dealt a very harsh blow. Our oldest brother Ed passed away suddenly and unexpectedly.

He was a great person who was genuine, true, dedicated and loving in all the things he did and in all the roles he played in his life – as a son, brother, husband, father, uncle, brother-in-law, nephew, cousin, buddy, friend, nurse, father-in-law, teacher, helper, fixer of things, teller of stories, and so much more.

His passing has left a huge void in all our lives. Without exception, every person that knew Ed is heart-broken. He was beloved by all.

We have been asked to share the video from Ed’s wake and his eulogy.

If you have any pictures, videos, or stories of Ed you would like to share, we would be grateful to have them. Please feel free to send them to wordybirdcr@gmail.com

Ed’s Video

 

Ed’s Eulogy

Edward Andrew Rodgers

Hello everyone, (or as Ed would say…“Whadda ya’at by?”),

I’m Ed’s oldest sister, Catherine. I thank you all for being here – the extended Rodgers and Norman families, Ed’s buddies and good friends, his hospital family, and all those who have been touched by the ripple our Eddie made in your lives.

Welcome.

I wish right now that I was a much, much older woman giving this eulogy for my slightly older brother. But that vision is not our reality. Ed was taken much too soon, way too early.

In fact, I can almost hear him say “What a rip off!”

But, with that acknowledged, I am going to try to do justice to Ed’s life and his considerable impact.

I’m also under a bit of pressure from both Mom and Joan to ensure that I don’t…

1. Blubber and bawl
2. Curse, or
3. Go on too long.

So here we go…

As a family, we have all heard Ed’s birth story many times. I certainly know Ed’s more than I know my own.

Ed was a first son to Randy (now deceased) and Bridget. The doctor joked about how the baby might be born after midnight and be a leap year baby. But Mother was determined that her first born would have a birthday every year rather than every four years. And, at 11:28 PM on February 28, 1964, Ed was born.

And there also happened to be a blizzard that night. When Dad finally left Mom and Ed in the hospital, he made his way to his mother’s place. Part way there, he got stuck in the drifts and had to abandon the car and trudge the rest of the way through the snow.

So the legend began. Ed had entered the world.

I’ve heard it said that having a brother is nature’s way of giving you a friend. And it was. I showed up a year and two months after Ed did.

I call him my ‘first partner in crime.’ And for him, I guess I was his first accomplice, and his first companion for his adventures. One of these included Ed taking me out of my crib early one morning and getting us down to the kitchen without waking up mom and dad.

As the family lore goes, Ed and I made a cake – in the kitchen sink, with eggs, flour, milk, ketchup and anything else he could find, and we stirred it up and got it everywhere – on the floor and all over the counters and cupboard doors, and of course – all over us.

Our sleep-deprived young mom just sat and cried at the extent of the mess and our dad just set about cleaning it up.

There were many more adventures to follow and more siblings to share them with. Gary soon showed up, followed by Tony, and, a bit later – Wendy arrived.

I was no longer just an accomplice, now we were a gang. And Ed has always been our undisputed leader.

But responsibility came to Ed naturally and easily. He was a leader and a teacher. As his siblings, we all learned from him, much as he had learned from our parents. But Ed seemed to actually like responsibility, at least way more than I did.

And he didn’t mind doing a bit of work at all. To say he was hardworking would be a massive understatement. I have often said that my brother burned his candle at both ends and in the middle.

When he was young, he was up for any kind of hobble. And as he got older, I think his work ethic just got better, especially when he became a nurse.

His colleagues at St. Clare’s and in the nursing community have echoed those thoughts. They remember Ed as…

• A caring and compassionate nurse with many skills and much knowledge.
• A nurse who took such good care of his patients and their families.
• They remember him as hard working and calm, a kind, funny, easy-going and happy guy.
• They remember him as a special person, who mentored many new nurses, and for being reliable – he could always be counted on to pick up extra shifts when needed (once cleared through Joan, of course).
• They said they will miss his chuckle, his stories, and his friendship.

Another said they couldn’t even estimate the number of lives that Ed has touched. Which is no real surprise to me or to many of us here.

Indeed, Ed was one of a kind – a classic. A genuinely good guy with a great sense of humour

He liked the simple things in life. He loved to go fishing and hunting. He loved this island and all it had to offer. He loved his buddies and the time he would spend with them. He loved being a nurse and helping people. He was quick with his wit and his knowledge, and he was a natural storyteller who kept an amazing storage of jokes at the ready.

He liked to have a game of cards, a drink, a yarn, a hunting trip, a morning trouting, or a day salmon fishing, a boil up, or a sit down…

And if by some chance you needed to put the back half of a cat into the back half of a dog, Ed was your guy.

If he didn’t know how to do it, he would figure it out. And he would help you get it done.

Ed was up for it all. And he did it all.

But the most classic part of Ed was how much he loved his family.

Both the one he was born into and the one he made.

I may have been Ed’s first partner in crime, but Joan has been his partner and the love of his life for 39 years. And if you don’t know that, you don’t know Ed.

His first child Zara – was his first joy. His baby girl Jamie – was his best friend. He may have mentioned them a thousand times or so.

They will miss their father, their tickle monster, and think fondly of the times Dad would find them behind the magic door.

Everybody here today has lost.

• My mother her firstborn, her original baby.
• My siblings their big brother.
• My sister in spirit her steadfast partner.
• My nieces their father.
• His sisters-in-laws and brothers-in-law,
• His new sons-in-laws,
• His nieces and nephews, his aunts and uncles and cousins,
• His good buddies and friends,
• His St. Clare’s family and the nursing community…

We have all lost.

But as sad as we are for this loss, we are all certainly better off for having known Ed…

and for having Ed know us.

So, to my big brother, my first friend, my constant – I can almost see you giving me the side eye followed by the smirk right now – I will never be quite the same without you.

We will all miss you deeply.

I wish you tight lines at your secret gully with your favourite redhead at your side and dad over your shoulder…

And, no doubt, we will see you by and by.