Goodbye

I’ve had a secret dream, one that almost certainly could not come to pass. Today, that wisp of a dream died. Dr. Lewis Benjamin Woolner, born on November 17, 1913, died on June 13, 2016. My dream was to be on Prince Edward Island at the same time as he was. Of course, the odds were slim, as I didn’t meet him until he was 101.5 years old; however, with Dr. Woolner, you could never be sure that he wouldn’t just live another decade. He was so full of life, even up to a couple of months ago. I have spent a lot of time today thinking about him.

First of all, I want to thank his daughter Anne for being willing to share him with me, a total stranger. I sent her an email in March of 2015, letting her know about my love for Prince Edward Island, and she welcomed me into their home. Dr. Woolner grew up on PEI; the Island was a dream destination for my husband and I, as we spent a week in that paradise on the occasion of our 30^th anniversary. It was delightful to share my love for PEI with Dr. Woolner, and to hear about the Island from his unique perspective.

I kept notes during my first few visits with Dr. Woolner. I think it was during my second visit with him, I caught the tail end of the home nurse’s visit. He bantered with her in a way that reminded me of my own dad. She touched a spot on his chest, and it hurt. He made a noise and told her he was looking for his hand weights so he could swing one at her. She offered back that he could punch out and she could lean back, and they would both get exercise. He enjoyed that and laughed heartily. Of course, by that time Dr. Woolner had already captured my heart. He did that the moment I first met him, when he grabbed my hand and held it tightly as he told me stories of days gone by.

At another early visit, Dr. Woolner and I talked about the book I made of our trip to PEI. He really enjoyed the pictures of the bridge. He looked at the book closely and read every word, until I interrupted him to ask about his old pictures. He looked at the clipping of the Confederation Bridge grand opening, and pointed to a spot in the crowd and said, “There I am. Or there. Or there. We should be able to see me; I had a glow around my head.” Oh, how I loved the way he told stories!

Dr. Woolner's clipping of the Confederation Bridge opening (above), and my
picture of the same bridge, from our trip there in 2013

Some days were harder than others, and remembering became difficult. One time when he was trying to remember things about the long ago days, he kept repeating a phrase over and over. Anne told him, “It’s OK, Dad, you don’t have to remember if it’s too hard.” I said I would leave and let him rest. He said, “I’m not as stupid as I look.” I told him the truth, “Oh, I know you’re brilliant,” and got another chuckle out of him.

During my visits, this wonderful gentleman entertained me. He read short stories to me. He played harmonica for me. He told me stories. He played piano for me. He recited silly poetry. I even got to go on a walk with him one day. I think he might have been showing off a bit for me, as Anne told me that he walked further on that sunny, November day than he had in a while. During the course of one of our visits, he told me how much he liked my laugh – and oh, I did laugh a lot with him! I felt completely at home when I was with him. I eagerly looked forward to our time together, and I cherish the memory of each visit. I’m pretty sure he never knew my name, but he always welcomed me. He was, indeed, a treasure.

I am so glad I got to see Dr. Woolner one last time about a month ago. His health had been failing, but that man still rose to the occasion. He read a little bit to me and even played harmonica for me. It was clear he didn’t feel well, but he put up a good front for me. I saw his daughter once after that, and she let me know that her dad was failing even more. I knew in my heart that I would not see him again here on earth.

That secret dream of mine will not come true - well, not in the way I wanted it to come true, anyway. I know without a doubt that I will visit Dr. Woolner next time I go to Prince Edward Island. His final resting place with be in the Cavendish Cemetery, next to his wife, Laura. There is no destination more important for me, when I return to the Island. This time, I will be the one telling him stories about the beauty of his favorite place, and mine, too: Prince Edward Island.

Until then, let me leave you with a quote from Lucy Maud Montgomery, who in a very real way, brought Dr. Woolner and me together. “You never know what peace is until you walk on the shores or in the fields or along the winding red roads of Prince Edward Island in a summer twilight when the dew is falling and the old stars are peeping out and the sea keeps its mighty tryst with the little land it loves. You find your soul then. You realize that youth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart.” I’m so glad for you to find youth and peace again, dear friend. I miss you already. (Click here to see a video retrospective I made to honor Dr. Woolner.)