William Pemberton
I'm not a religious person, although I'd say I'm spiritual and believe in the good workings of the universe. Hours before Will's death, I got a very strong "nudge" out of the blue. I prayed to whoever could hear me (universe, love, god?) that Will would feel safe, loved and peaceful as he journeyed into his final rest where there is no pain. The next morning, my mom called to say that he had passed early that morning.
Will's funeral was small due to Covid, but during the wake, many friends came by in staggered visits to say goodbye to Will. It's burned in my mind, seeing each of the children kissing the coffin goodbye and then processing out to the burial site. As my brother John led a final hymn, several people grabbed shovels - including the children - and helped to lay their dad to rest. Perhaps it was fitting, as my sister Mary said, because Will taught them all to work hard.
To say that Will was a great human being is an understatement. He was larger than life, and many people have said that he was the "most alive" person they have met. The list of his talents was endless - he taught himself to play the violin like a virtuoso, and could bring down any roof with his wild guitar-playing and powerful voice. He could read and write in multiple ancient languages and spoke only in Latin to his children for the first years of their life. It was common to hear little voices at the Pembertons, saying, "sic, papa (yes, dad)" or "salve, papa" (hi, dad) or "bonum noctis" (good night). On a side note, I remember my nephew Willie hearing his dad speaking English and saying with a look of amazement on his little face, "Papa, you speak English?!!".
Will farmed the land with passion and dedication in an environment that was pretty unforgiving. The Cape Breton countryside is difficult to cultivate, and the winters can be very harsh with East Coast hurricanes shaking the homes and crazy storms sometimes cutting off communities from the mainland. However, from growing potatoes, to raising Icelandic sheep, churning his own butter, and building traditional woven fencing, Will believed in what was beautiful and good. And he was dedicated to making the land a better and more sustainable place. The moment the Pembertons moved to Margaree, they were welcomed and soon beloved by their neighbours and new friends. And who could not fall in love with the Pembertons? They are a wonderful ecosystem of life, animals, projects, and creativity, and their children are amazing!! They have learned to farm like their dad, and they hunt and trap. Some of them sew their own clothes, build forts and shelters, and know more about the local Indigenous history than most adults. I never laugh so hard as when I'm hanging out with the Pembertons.
Beyond Will's accomplishments, though, he's been like a brother for over 15 years, and his love for my sister Mary stretches back even further. As a teenager, I remember walking in downtown Toronto with Mary, and in a fluke encounter, we bumped into Will on a street corner. I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw my sister! It was a mixture of awe and admiration. Several years later, they met again when they were both working in Peterborough. To say that Will won my sister's heart, doesn't do him justice. He captured it. He serenaded her under her window with the violin, brought down a whole pub with his rousing musical renditions, and warmed everyone's hearts with his cheery folk fiddling.
Mary and Will's wedding was epic too - just like their love. It coincided with an unusual storm that flooded the city of Peterborough. But it didn't matter -- their reception was held at the top of a hill in a nearby park. Despite the floods, it was a beautiful celebration, which ended up growing in size to include people who weren't officially invited, but joined the party!
Over the years, Will always had a kind and encouraging word for us. He inspired me to learn the fiddle, and my brother Ben to pick up the mandolin. Together the three of us played folk tunes for hours. As well, both my younger sister, Bramble, and I knew that we could talk to Will about anything. Not only was he a well-researched wealth of information on almost every imaginable topic, but he was kind and deeply caring about our struggles - whether it be relationship turmoil, philosophical questions, or just general problems that crop up in life. In my 20s, there were times when I felt very adrift and stayed at Mary and Will's more than once. During these times, they never judged what I was going through and didn't try to fix things. Mary would pour me some wine, and Will would sometimes join and share his own struggles, which made me feel like I wasn't alone.
I last saw Will in Ontario during a family visit on my way back from working on the East Coast. He was struggling with the cancer and in a good deal of pain. In one of my last conversations with him, he once again encouraged me and told me that good things were coming my way and to not let anything tarnish the good that had been or would still be in my life: "Don't let anything touch the good," he said.
Will was laid to rest in a beautiful green valley, close to the farm and to his kids. He is so deeply missed by us all, but I imagine him filling up the sky with his hearty laugh and merry fiddle tunes.
Rest in peace.
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