Michael

Remembering and celebrating the love of my life: Michael

Michael is my best friend and the love of my life. From the moment I met Michael, my life was changed forever. Our love is so passionate and true. We fell hard and fast, as most of you know. Even though Michael was away at school in Ireland or in Kingston, Ontario, our feelings for one another continued to grow and strengthen. We were so fortunate to visit one another during school even though we were miles apart and we really took some incredible holidays together. Michael was the most caring and charismatic person I know. He was so honest and true. He had the ability to make a whole room light up with his beautiful smile and sparkling eyes.

We were both so thrilled to be planning our future together. Our home will be ready in January and Michael made sure every square inch of that house was thoroughly inspected by him and perfect; Michael always strived for perfection.

Michael was talented in all areas of his life; but his true passion was hockey. Michael would tell people that his number one passion in life was hockey and then he would look over at me and correct himself and say “besides Keisha of course”. However, the next time he was talking about hockey it was still the same story. He would play hockey at every opportunity and was always striving to improve and “make it big”.

There is nothing more that he loved than his family and friends. I am so grateful that Michael invited me into his life and allowed me to be part of such an incredible family and connect with so many extraordinary friends. Every person that met Michael fell in love with his magnetic and wonderful personality; and Michael made every effort to make every person he met feel special and important – he would talk to strangers like they were his best friend.

We are all so blessed to have known Michael. I will love him forever and cherish all our memories, as we all will. His kind and gentle spirit will be forever felt and loved.

(Keisha is an O.R. Nurse at the Sturgeon Hospital in St. Albert)

Transcript of Eulogy to Mike Westover  (November 19, 2010)

My nameʼs Kurt McLeod, and Iʼm up here because Mike was my best friend. Actually, he was more than my best friend, he was like a brother to me.

As I was going through pictures, I was surprised at how young we were when we first met, because it didnʼt feel like we were that young. But we were just little kids playing baseball.

We ended up together because we were both cut from some top team we were supposed to make (according to us …), and itʼs funny: I remember being completely devastated — I thought my career was over before it started — but here was this Mike Westover kid, who was in the exact same situation I was, and he was happy as a clam. I couldnʼt figure it out at first…

You see, we were the oldest, most experienced players on the team, and as Mike explained it to me: this was an opportunity to really be the kings of our domain (Mike loved having  impressionable young minds at his disposal). And he was right — together we ran the show the entire summer, completely drunk on power.  It was fantastic. We were glued at the hip from then on… The takeaway here is that Mike was always a little wiser than me… he always

saw the big picture a little bit clearer, and not just for his age either, I mean period.

So I learned to listen to Mike. Even when I was pretending to ignore or challenge him, I was always taking in the wisdom. And I have no doubt that Mike was, and will continue to be, one of the most important influences in my life.

Of course, it isnʼt just me that he influenced. Look at all the people here.  He made the most unique impression on everyone that knew him.  Tell me if this sounds familiar: no matter where you are or what you are doing, if Mikeʼs name happens to come up in conversation, or some random little thing reminds you of him, itʼs pretty much impossible not to crack a smile. People will usually chuckle, repeat his name a few times, lovingly shake their heads… pretty soon everyone is speaking over each other for a chance to tell their stories about Mike. Because we all have a million of them, and theyʼre all priceless.

Often, when Iʼm reminded of something Mike said or did, Iʼll just spontaneously

burst out laughing. Iʼll be in a public place, like a grocery store line, and Iʼll get these confused looks from strangers. They think Iʼm looney. But if they knew Mike, theyʼd understand.

Why is it that Mike has this effect on us? What is it about him that tickles our heart strings in a way that no one else can?  I think part of it is that you couldnʼt fit Mike into any one mold. He defied all stereotypes. He was truly one-of-a-kind. Thatʼs what I want to talk about: the many layers of Mike Westover.

I think of what Mike was like as student:

Hereʼs a guy with this razor-sharp mind, this incredibly focused, determined work ethic… he graduates from Paul Kane High School in 2002 with the highest Honors; he goes on to the faculty of science at Queenʼs University, one of the most competitive schools in the country, maintains a near perfect GPA (for some reason, I always knew what Mikeʼs grades were… I have no idea why… he usually beat me). Heʼs accepted early to medical school in Ireland after only two years of undergrad… there never was a more capable, accomplished young man. Thatʼs just a fact.

But I also think of Mike as this easy-going, care-free, bohemian spirit:

Sometimes Iʼd see him and heʼd be all clean cut in a polo shirt. And other times heʼd have this Grizzly Adams beard and hair down to his shoulders, like heʼd just spent a year at sea (which I thought was a pretty cool look for him, though I know there was some division on that…). You never knew what look you were going to get, but it was always the same Mike, just a

different expression of Mike.

He knew the value of stopping to smell the roses — something that he helped me discover, something a lot of us forget as we get older. If Mike was going to spend a hot sunday afternoon floating in his pool, or relaxing on his couch, he would unplug the clocks. He would treat it as if it was a national holiday. He carefully guarded his leisure time like nothing Iʼve ever seen:

Iʼd go over to his house and weʼd be floating in the pool on these blow-up tubes, and after a couple hours Iʼd start getting kind of restless: “Mike, maybe we should do something else? Switch it up?” — heʼd silence me with one hand, and with the other hand heʼd point to where the sun was still visible in the sky (which meant we werenʼt going anywhere), and then heʼd just… float away… And he was never too busy to talk. He could sit and carry a conversation

forever. About anything, or nothing at all. Because he enjoyed the company of people as an end in and of itself.  I think of how, when it came to certain kinds of planning, Mike could be pretty meticulous:  No detail was too small, everything had to be just so. He would get a very specific vision for what he wanted. But you never really could predict which details he was going to fixate at on, you just knew that, once he did, he was going to give those details his full and undivided attention. It could be anything from the type of backsplash that he and Keisha were putting in their kitchen, to the precise stage in his meal that he needed his milk served to him:

Because if they bring it out too early, itʼs not cold enough by the time his main course arrives. Heʼd ask the waitress: “Excuse me, do you have white milk?” — “What other kind of milk is there?”  –“Chocolate, of course…” — “Okay, well, Iʼll bring that right out for you” — Mike calls the waitress back: “Actually, could you bring it out about five minutes before my main course?” — waitress stares blankly… But there was also the Mike that liked to just sort of go with the flow, fly by the seat of his pants:  The one that would show up at a city in Europe where he didnʼt speak the language, without a phone, without any money, without even the name of the hotel he was supposed to meet you at! But cool as a cucumber… just cruising on the faith that things would work themselves out before the sun went down.

And the amazing thing is, everything usually did work itself out for Mike.  Now, part of this is a testament to Mikeʼs charm, which was definitely something to behold. But I know heʼd be the first to tell you that he also had some pretty special and capable women looking after him… It started

with his mom and his sisters… then a gradual passing of the torch to his fiance Keisha, with a noteworthy assist from Keishaʼs mom, Val… But Mike never took advantage of their goodwill. Or maybe he did just a little, but it didnʼt matter. There was this genuine innocence about Mike

that made you want to take care of him, to look out for him. And he was always sure to make absolutely clear how much he recognized and appreciated the efforts of the women in his life. Mike knew exactly how good he had it.  Even when Mike had no idea what was going on, he was at least comforted by the certainty that: “Keishaʼs on top of it. Sheʼs got everything under control”. He had complete trust in her.  I think of Mike as a real explorer, a thrill seeker, always plotting his next big adventure:

I know how much he treasured the sailing trips that he took with his family… hanging out on the deck with his cool older cousin Cy, who held the official title of Mikeʼs idol. In fact, I heard so much about Cy, I think he might be my idol.  Mike and Keisha had already seen a lot of the world together. Heʼd get so excited describing all the future adventures they were going to have

together. He was especially proud of the fact that they werenʼt interested in just laying on a beach somewhere — they wanted to get off the beaten path, get their hands dirty, and really challenge themselves.  I told Mike about this book that might be up his alley: “A Rough Guide to the Worldʼs Ultimate Adventures”. He drove me straight over to the bookstore so I could lead him to it. The book actually ranked the top 200 ultimate adventures in order of how challenging they were. Mike, of course, doesnʼt waste anytime flipping straight to the 5/5 extreme difficulty level, reserved only for the most experienced mountaineers. He flashes that trademark smirk:  “Yes.

This is exactly what I want”. I said: “Mike, you know, it might be a good idea to start at medium and kind of work your way up…” He just gave me this look like I did not make any sense at all: “No, trust me, Keishaʼs up for it”. He was always ready to dive right in.  But for all the incredible things Mike saw and experienced out in the world, one thing that never wavered was his deep and heartfelt connection to his roots. He loved it here:

I know, because Iʼd been trying to convince him for a long time that he and Keisha would eventually need to pick up and relocate (so that they could live down the street from me…). I worked on him pretty hard, too. But the last time I saw him, he confided something that I always suspected, but that he never really actually verbalized before: he said, “you know, I just

canʼt picture leaving again. I couldnʼt stand being away from my family”.  I wondered whether that was true or not, or whether Iʼd still be able to steal him away if I just kept at it. I think about the relationship that Mike had with his family…

When his sisters were younger, Mike would chase them around the house trying to press his bare butt up against them — they were screaming and giggling, and he was just relishing it. I remember

the look of measured concern that would come over him when boys started calling the house — first for Ricki, and then for Chayne.  Heʼd grab the phone assuming it was for him and then, once he passed it off, heʼd kind of eye them suspiciously as they left the room… I laugh when I think of how smitten he became with the boyfriends they have now. I picture Mike in the dressing room with his dad after one of the legendary father-son games that he cherished, the ones that he

claimed in his deadpan tone were “the highlight of his athletic career”. Or the look of cool satisfaction on Mikeʼs face when, as a kid, his dad would take him zipping through town in that hot little MGA convertible. Or was it an MGB? I donʼt know. Anyway, it was hot. Iʼd be like, “Dad? Why arenʼt you as cool as Dr. Westover?”… “I donʼt know, son.”  I picture Mike leaning over the kitchen counter, gobbling down a late night meal that his mom had whipped up for him on a

momentʼs notice, chatting candidly with her the way they always did– no topic was out of bounds. Or Mike beaming proudly as he showed off the photorealistic paintings his mom had made of him:“Iʼm always telling Char that she could be selling these for big money”. Iʼm not sure if he meant her painting in general, or specifically the paintings of him… And with all that in mind, I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I was never going to get Mike to move away. His family was too important to him. And to be honest, I wouldnʼt even have wanted to, because I know how happy it made him to be near them.  I think of how Mike prided himself as a rugged, macho-type guy:

He savoured every moment spent tearing it up with the boys out in the bush. And he spoke almost poetically about the satisfaction of working with his hands, witnessing the fruits of his own labor. Deep down, I think Mike dreamed of a world in which shirts were always optional…

He was a hard-nosed competitor, too — a real firecracker. As Keisha will tell you, he had a burning commitment to hockey: while most of our friends began to fade out of competitive sports, Mikeʼs skills and ambitions were only growing with each passing year.  He recently outlined for me his elaborate 18-step plan that would catapult him into the ranks of senior AAA hockey: all it would take was around six years of gruelling training and a few strategic free agent

trades. His friend Marc Alain teased him that he was a Disney movie in the making, which is funny, because knowing how Mike went after what he wanted, I think we have to at least

acknowledge the possibility that he could have been the first 40-year-old rookie in the NHL.

Still, I donʼt think Mikeʼs love of hockey was about dreams of the NHL — at least I donʼt think thatʼs all it was about. It was about the male camaraderie. Brothers in arms.

Mike also happened to be — and I mean this sincerely — really in touch with his feminine side.

And Iʼm not taking about all the moisturizers he went through, or the hours spent perfecting his come-hither gaze in the mirror (trust me, Iʼm not one to talk… I think we fuelled each other)… Mike was never shy to show his affection for the people he loved. My mom was pointing out to me that in every picture we have of him, no matter who heʼs standing next to, heʼs always got his hand wrapped nice and tight around their waste — right in there…

Mike never had any trouble expressing his feelings. I know how much he loved his family and how much he loved Keisha, because he would straight up tell me, and anyone who would listen, all the time. Heʼd practically sing it from the mountain tops.  When he described what he loved most about about Keisha, heʼd furrow his brow and sort of pump his hands back and forth (like he

did when he was really trying to emphasize a point). Heʼd say, and this is almost verbatim: “Itʼs not just because sheʼs beautiful, which she is, or because I love being around her, which I do…. itʼs because sheʼs the most caring person Iʼve ever met. Iʼll never find someone who cares more about other people than she does.”

For Mike, the capacity to care about other people was quite simply the most important quality that a person could have… Mike cared about people. He cared about everyone here so much…

And as painful as it is to say goodbye to him, Iʼm just so grateful that he

was a part of my life.

The sad truth is that the world is not nearly as bright without Mike in it.

But the world is so much brighter for him having been in it,

and our lives are so much better for having known him.

We love you, Mike. And we will always remember you…

(Kurt completed a Bachelor’s Degree at Georgetown University and is currently

in Law School at U of T)