Burgess Hamilton Weaver

Burgess Hamilton Weaver, 96 years of Weymouth North passed away to be with his lord and Saviour on March 11, 2026 at 7:55 PM peacefully at home cuddled in his bed holding his son‘s (Robb) hand. On this particular day he gave his loving wife of 73 years many many kisses while being visited by many throughout the day.

He was born at home in Weymouth North, Nova Scotia on September 12, 1929 and was the son of the late Charles and Ethel (Raymond) Weaver. He spent all of his life living and working for his family‘s future in many areas such as the wood industry, Connors Plant, backyard mechanics and many more enjoyed occupations. He was a firm believer in working hard for what you needed in life. He rarely indulged for himself as he believed only the necessities in life was what was important and most other novelties were a waste of hard earned money.

Burgess was a loving husband, father, grandfather, great grandfather, and brother to many who brought him constant joy and comfort in his life. He loved and cherished his family, and even though his last three months were his most difficult days, he still managed to smile, be positive and get through celebrations and family gatherings with open arms, hugs, kisses and a heart filled with love.

He loved going to church where he held a deacon position, working, camping, hunting, and collecting recyclables to return for refunds to buy all kinds of treats for his grandchildren and great-grandchildren as well as their pets for every visit with them. They would have pockets full of yummy unhealthy (lol) snacks which everyone of them absolutely loved.

Over the last few years he loved sitting in his chair, when he could no longer be outside too much, watching the birds feed, log trucks drive by and his favourite flowers which were tulips that grow in the spring or waiting for the rain to come so he could hear it dance on the roof. One of his most recent joys was visiting his sister Lennie as he hadn’t seen her in a few years so he brought himself some strength that day to get up, dress and get in the car to drive with us that two hour trip that exhausted him but was so memorable for him as well as he came back home with one of his other favourite things, his mother‘s homemade molasses cookies that his sister had made for him.

Burgess is survived by his absolutely adoring dedicated loving wife Helen (Amero); daughters, Debbie (Tony) Langdale, Carla (Mike) Druken and Pam (Steve) Thibault; sons, Robb (Jack) Weaver and Troy (Wanda) Weaver; his grandchildren, Nick, Lee, Kirk, Ryan, Franjoli (AKA. Tis), Acheon, Braxton, Zachary, Emily, Jacob, Julianna, Hailey and great-grandchildren, Cassidy, Dominick, Mason, Landon, Alexis, Aleia, Sierra and many nieces and nephews as well as being survived by brother, Penson Weaver and sister, Lennie McCullough and Judy Melanson.

He was predeceased by his parents as well as his brothers, Henry and Jimmy and sisters, Phyllis, Edna and Anna.

Visitation will be held at Calvary Baptist Church, Plympton on Tuesday, March 17, from 2-4 and 6-8pm where service will also be held on Wednesday, March 18 at 2pm with a short tea time to follow. There will be no burial as his wish is to be cremated and placed in the casket with his loving wife to hold for eternity on her departure to her Lord and Saviour.

Donations can be made to Calvary Baptist Church either by envelope or e-transfer in memory of Burgess to [email protected]

Over the last few years as most of you know his son Robb moved home with his partner to care for his parents and his father enjoyed watching their yard explode with gardens of beautiful flowers. In lieu of cut flowers we ask that if you do want to donate flowers that they be types of potted plants, bulbs, bushes, trees, or gift cards from plant nurseries, etc in order for them to be able to live on long after Burgess for Robb to make a memorial garden in their yard this Spring so his wife/family can visit it often to see as a reminder of the man who lived for his family to grow and flourish forever!

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For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Rhoda, Burgess is my uncle. Over the last few years, I had the privilege of helping care for him when Robb couldn’t be there. In the beginning, he was awake for a good part of the day, and we spent hours just talking. We’d reminisce about the past, and commiserate about the things he wished he could still do. One of my favorite memories he told me was of him and his brother Jimmy. He said they were forbidden to go in the road, but they’d sneak in the road anyway, but one day they got caught, and oh weren’t his parents mad. They went to grab a woodwhip, I pictured that to be one of those stringy flexible branches from a tree, but I’m not totally sure. He said when they went looking for a woodwhip, Jimmy ran right out to the opened field but he ran inside to a corner, and later on he laughed at Jimmy and said “you’re so stupid, running into the open field where every blow would hit you. I ran into the corner, so that every time they’d try to hit me it would hit the wall instead.” He laughed over that as though it just happened yesterday, and I would laugh right along with him because his laughter was so contagious. He was so proud of Robb and his gardens. He told me many times how much he wished he could go out and see them. He saw the pictures—but it just wasn’t the same as seeing them in real time. He’d watch from the window as Robb worked, and wish he could be out there too, but he was so happy Robb was enjoying what he loved, because that was his greatest wish, for his children to be enjoying life, and he couldn’t quite understand why Jack didn’t want to be out there too. He spent a lot of time looking across the driveway at his old homestead. I asked him once which house he liked better. He said he liked the one he was in—but it wasn’t the same as the one he built. He called it the old shack, and he’d laugh every time he said that. He built it himself, but he still couldn’t quit understand how he managed it. He poured every last cent into it. He’d work for $5 a day and pay out $6, but it was worth it and he was so proud when it was finished. He said He’d work for people and they’d have old boards that would have a spike or a nail in it and they’d tell him to take them and throw ‘em in the dump, and he’d take it and throw it in his yard instead. He said “I was a hoarder’, but they came in handy because he built a big portion of his house with the stuff that was meant to be thrown in the dump. He said not too many people can say they worked for $5 a day and built a house. What others saw as nothing, he turned into something. That says a lot about the kind of man he was. He told me once that he used to be a spring chicken, but now he was a golden chicken, and then he’d laugh because he said there was nothing golden about it, and he’d like to imagine that someone said olden chicken and it got mistaken for golden. I can still hear him laughing about it. He had the most robust laughter. When I was younger I was petrified of him, because he was so loud and gruff, but taking care of him I realized how wrong I was. He might sound gruff, but he was as gentle a man as they came, and I only ever saw kindness and love from him. I remember when my mom was in the hospital and we were uncertain of the outcome. I thought he was sleeping, and I was setting in the chair crying, and suddenly he spoke up and said “go be with your mom, I’ll be okay.” I said “no, I’m not going to leave you alone.” And he said, “what’s the worst that can happen?” I said, “well you could fall.” and he said “yeah. So what. If I fall, I’ll just be laying in the floor.” He was definitely not selfish. A few weeks ago he was setting on his bed, trying to work up the strength to move and debating on laying back down instead. I told him I loved him and missed him setting in the living room with me. He just grunted and said ‘What’s there to love?” But seconds later he was on his feet, moving. I think a lot of his last days when he was still forcing himself to move, even when he told me he felt like ‘packing it in’, was for others. He loved his family so much. I remember one day he told me he used to worry about them all, not sure what they’d become and then he started listing each child and told me how they were all faring in life. Was he ever proud of what they accomplished. If any of you ever doubted his love, I can attest to it. He talked about all of you like you were jewels in his crown. And I know the love was reciprocated too, by each of you in your own way even when you couldn’t be there all the time. Carla and Robb were more hands on. You know the saying you don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, that is such a true sentiment. I saw first hand how each of their children were like a cog in their life, and without one the whole thing would be thrown off. Carla worked tirelessly keeping it all afloat. I have a few pictures I stole of her, working over Burgess, trying to keep him as comfortable as possible. She kept their finances and medical appointments in order, while Robb micro-managed every thing else. There were times Loretta and I questioned what he was doing, but in the end it would always be the right decision. He certainly made Burgess a priority, and I honestly believe Burgess lived as long as he did because of all that. When ever I’d try to move Burgess from one place to another, or even just try to make him stand up, he’d say lets do one two three, because that’s what Robb would do with him, and he always liked Robb’s system better than mine. And Robb would watch us on the camera on his downtime at the restaurant, especially around meal time, and I’d hear the little bell on my phone go off that I set just for him so I’d know when he was writing to me, and I’d say “Oh I’m doing something wrong,” and sure enough there’d be some instruction for me, ‘give him fruit” “Is that decaf coffee?” “Don’t forget his pill.” “Make sure you write down what he’s drinking.” I think Burgess was a lucky man to have that much attention doled out on him. In his last month or so, Burgess’s care plan changed constantly, and me and my sister Loretta (who came on in the last 4 or 5 months to help out) would talk amongst ourselves and try to stratagize how we could make him more comfortable and ease stress a little for everyone. Even when we weren’t with him, he was the topic of all our conversations. Somewhere along the way, we didn’t just care for him—we fell in love with him. But it wasn’t hard to. Here he was, so sick… and he never complained. Not once. But even then, he still found ways to make us laugh. One day Helen and I were sorting through Helen’s jewelry—and there was so much of it, it took us nearly two weeks, this woman puts the jewelry stores to shame. Burgess just sat there watching us, and Shaking his head at the ‘mess’ and I said, “You should be helping us.” He said, “I’ll help… kerplunk, right in the garbage.” As soon as I’d arrive at the house in the morning I’d go right to the bedroom, and more times than not he’d weasel a few more minutes of sleep out of me, although Robb had him on a schedule. I’d say Robb’s going to get mad at me, and he’d say I don’t care what Robbie says. The schedule was for his own good since he was getting his days and nights mixed up at that point, but if Burgess didn’t want to get up there was no making him. I’d always say Okay I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, and I’d watch him on the camera and almost 15 minutes on the dot he’d throw the blankets aside and I’d rush in to help him. He’d grab hold of his walker and stand up, and pep talk his feet to get moving. “Come on feet,” he’d say, and then the whole way out of the bedroom he’d sing “Get out the way old man tucker, I’m going out to eat me some supper”. And every single time he came into the living room, the first thing he did was look for Helen. “Where is she hiding?” he’d say. After more than seventy-five years together… she was still the first person on his mind. And even on his last day, nothing had changed. She was still his focus. He called for her—and she came right to his side. And you could feel it… that love between them. It hadn’t faded with time, it hadn’t grown tired—it had endured. If anything, it felt even stronger in that moment. Because I think it had to be. Because letting go of a love like that, after a lifetime together…that must take everything you have. It takes strength and grace and it takes a kind of faith most of us can only hope to have. We should all be so lucky to know a love like that. He used to say to me when I was leaving, “I hate to see you go.” And for the longest time, I never really knew what to say back. But I do now. Burgess… I hate to see you go. You didn’t just pass through my life—you taught me so much, without ever having to say a word. You left a mark on my heart, and I will carry a piece of you with me, always. Where you are now, you’re walking strong again, and that’s the picture I cling to in my mind. That’s what gets me through this, my faith in knowing that you are in a far better place, pain free. Until we meet again… I love you. And I will miss you—more than I could ever put into words. Rhoda Hill

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Lee Druken

Thank you all for coming...and I know that Burgess or “Grampy” as I knew him is looking down and sending his love to each and everyone of you. The family would also like to thank the girls who helped care for Grampy through his final days, especially Rhoda and Loretta who spent countless hours pampering him. Our family could not have got through this without your help.

We are all here because we loved Burgess Weaver. Although our relationships to him may differ, our love and respect does not. For me that relationship was grandson. For those of you who don't know me, I’m Lee, son of Carla and Mike. Carla being one of five children that god blessed my grandparents with.

I am here today because I love my grandfather. All my memories of him are warm and heartfelt. All of them. To be a grandchild to Helen and Burgess was a wonderful gift. Their love was unconditional, their support was unending, they taught us to be good people in gods light and to always treat others as we would want to be treated ourselves. Most importantly they were fun.

Burgess was a special man. Big in stature, strong as an ox, loud as a foghorn, but anything but menacing once you got to know him. He was a man’s man, earning a living labouring in the woods, working on vehicles, and the like. He loved nature. Appreciated the beauty in the lord’s creations. There was always more pets and animals at Grampy’s than you good shake a stick at. He taught his children the skills they would need to carry forward in their lives and pass on to their families. Whether that be teaching them to drive on pulp wood trucks, both his boys and girls, to hunting and fishing.

Grampy always taught me to be hard working. He had me on the side of the road as a kid picking up bottles and cans....you know to clean up the community, help the earth, and oh yeah to make a few bucks in the process. A habit he continued long after I stopped.

Sundays when I was a kid were spent at the Weavers. A family that I’ve been blessed to be a part of. Those Sundays were highlighted by a home cooked meal with my grandparents, my uncles Robby and Troy, my aunts Debbie and Pam, and their families. It was always a sacred day, a little loud at times filled with good natured teasing and laughter, but was always centered around family. After the chaos of the meal I remember sneaking away to join Grampy on the couch to take in a western or an Elvis movie and often a nap or two. All habits that I picked up from him.

Grampy was a role model for me. He was everything a good man should be... A loving husband, father, grandfather, and great grandfather. He was a giving friend, an honest man, and a man of faith. He loved his Lord and the Lord loved him. He spent his life working as hard as he could to provide for the wife that he loved and for those that meant the most to him, whether they were his kin or not. He gave of himself without hesitation, or any expectation of return. All he ever wanted was the safety and happiness of those that meant most to him.

Let us all remember that although we grieve for his loss, Burgess was blessed with a long and wonderful life filled with family and friends like yourselves. I will miss you Grampy....especially your homemade bread, sharing our birthdays, the Christmas trees you cut for my family, and you taking me fishing. But my sadness will never outweigh the joy and love you brought to my life. So until we meet again, I love you grampy and may god bless you, now and forever. I will leave you now with a poem requested by the family.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow.

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain.

I am the fields of ripening grain.

When you awaken in the morning hush,

I am the swift up lifting rush.

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am soft stars that shine at night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there, I do not die.

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Letter about Roger & Burgess

Roger and Burgess were great friends.

They worked together building this church

with many others, shared some good times,

They were buddies.

They became deacons at the same time.

Burgess, Roger and Harris.

We’ve had many functions here, there

was one where I decided to make a

lemon truffle pie, not your normal lemon

pie. I looked and seen Burgess coming

towards me, I smiled and said hello.

Burgess, he says Shirley, “what did you

do to that pie?” I said it’s a new recipe.

Burgess says Throw it away. I smiled at

him and said yes I will. And he left

with a big grin.

When Roger passed he came to me later and

said “I miss Roger.” That was Burgess,

man of few words, but they were worth a

million.

I will miss Burgess, he’s with his buddy

and many more who have accepted Christ

as their Savior, a glad reunion.

Burgess, a true friend!

Till we meet again.

By Shirley Manzer