To my cousin Butch


My cousin Butch died today.

Butch, what a name. Brother of Skip and Joan.

His real name was Walter Pearce, the second son of Alwyn and Earl.

But nobody in the family called him Walter.

Only Butch. Cause that was his name.

Cousins come and go, but Butch was a special person in my life. I was a little girl without a dad and Butch took it upon himself to be a big brother to me and my brothers. He was also another son to my grandparents, and a friend to my mother, who needed friends after my dad died.

I remember having to go to Girl Guide camp, and watching Butch and my mother sit up all night waiting for dawn while I slept. The two of them decided to take in a fishing trip on the way and to troll one of the creeks. They never caught anything, but they had a helluva time.

Butch always knew how to make lemonade.

Butch was a stand up guy if there ever was one. The guy in the family who always looked after things. He was there for my mom, my grandparents.

Whenever a super hero was needed, he was there, with his wife Lorraine, always laughing in the background.

He was the quiet pick up artist. He picked up when people needed being picked up. Or looked after.

He was what people would call a “good egg”, a stand up guy. He never asked for anything. It was just in his nature.

About 12 years ago, he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He fought the good fight, even calling me to tell me about taking some kind of experimental treatment that turned out to help him live a number more good years.

He had courage, that’s for sure.

And he did everything with humor and dedication.

Because Butch wasn’t ready to give up his job.

Like Spiderman, he had so much left to do, so many people left to help.

He might be gone now, but he will always be a Superhero to this little girl.

He will live on, in our hearts.

Time to rest, young man.

Time to toss the torch.

Thanks for everything.

Job well done.

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