The Passage of Time and the Rose

Lynda’s son, Burton, age 17.

It is hard to believe that this October will mark 25 years since October 1999 and the tragic workplace fatality of our young 17 year old Son, Burton Reimer. 

It seems like only yesterday we received the call to tell us that he had died while commercial fishing for the first time on Lake Winnipeg.

Over the last 25 years I have worked hard to find healthy ways to deal with the unimaginable loss of my son, Burton. 

One of the things that I love to do and I find brings me comfort is, when the weather permits, working in the garden. There is something about this tactile experience that brings me joy. 

Last year, during the summer, I was working in the garden and spread out a new layer of compost over the rose bushes. I had moved one of my rose bushes, because it was not doing very well, into a new location in hopes of saving this plant. 

While working in the yard my mind often wanders to days gone by and memories of the past. 

Burton was a young man at the time of his passing and was living with his father. He had moved back to the small town of Gimli, MB, on the shores of Lake Winnipeg, to finish grade 12 with his childhood friends and decide his future from there. My husband and I lived in the city and Burton wanted to live in the country. This is where his heart belonged as he loved the great outdoors and the beauty of living close to the lake. 

I clearly remember that day 25 years ago. It was unseasonably warm for October and I remember how we could be outside without a warm jacket on and not wanting this beautiful day to end. Later that day, we met with good friends and this is when we received the phone call to tell us the terrible news. 

Burton had been offered a job on a commercial fishing boat. It was the final day of the fall commercial fishing season and he was young, strong and eager to work. He had purchased his first car and now wanted to buy a used snowmobile from a friend. It was only one day of work, but still, it was an opportunity for him to make some money. 

Burton had spent many years growing up around boats and water out at the family cottage and this is where he spent his past 17 years during the summer months. He had been trained on safety procedures on the water and to have a healthy respect for his safety. This part makes it hard to understand because the boat Burton was working on had no safety equipment. There were no life jackets (as is required) and no means of communication in the event of an emergency. The only other person in the boat was another inexperienced fisherman who had very little training. We were told that—due to human error—their fishing boat took on water and had sunk six miles out from shore. The two men held on to gas cans as they struggled to stay afloat in the freezing water.  

When another fishing boat on the water noticed that their boat was missing, they moved closer to the area and the other fisherman was quickly rescued. But they could not find Burton.

It was 9 months after Burton’s death, in the following July, when the coastguards recovered his body and we were finally able to bury his ashes.

During this time and years afterwards, we were left to suffer in our grief as everyone else’s lives seemed to go on in a normal way and we were left to find our new normal moving forward in life.

The days, months and years passed as we tried to make sense of how this could have happened and how no one ever took responsibility for Burton’s death or were held accountable in any way. 

Throughout the years, I have found many different ways to bring meaning back into my life including volunteering for Threads of Life and working in the garden.

Several weeks after moving the rose bush I noticed it had a single red rose growing on it. By then, it was fall, and I took this as a sign to say that my Burton was still with me, in spirit, all of these years later. He had sent me one single rose to remind me that there is always hope and to never forget the beauty that surrounds us. I truly believe that our loved ones are never really gone from our lives.

Twenty-five years of missing Burton has passed and I think of him every day. I am also grateful to have had him in my life for each and every one of those days in his short 17 years of life.  

 I am mindful of the gifts that I receive, such as the single red rose. It reminds me that he is never truly gone, and to always be aware of how precise each and every day is to us even if some of these days are harder than others.  

The anniversary dates and some social gatherings can still bring up a sense of dread and heartache, but I find that if I acknowledge my grief and practice healthy self-care, they can be a time of personal growth and reflection.  

Just like the new layer of compost, or a change of location, we all need to find what works best for ourselves. Only then will it begin to grow and thrive. 

It may seem difficult in those early days of grief and despair to think about the future in any kind of positive way. Or it may seem impossible to imagine any happiness that life might bring, but I do find that it does get easier with the passing of time and when we find the supports that we need such as being a family member of Threads of Life or something as simple as working in the garden.