OBITUARY

Joseph William Cousineau

17 November , 195517 February , 2019

It is with a heavy heart, I announce the death of my dad, Joseph (Joe) William Cousineau. Born Nov 17, 1955 in Tofino, BC, he died unexpectedly on February 17, 2019 when his home caught fire in Warn Bay, Tofino, BC. I have no doubt he was welcomed into the mysterious unknown by many who passed before him, including his parents Fran & Carmen; brother Brian; grandson Lee, brothers-in-law Harold & Bill, aunts & uncles, as well as many good friends.

He is survived by me, his daughter Anamarija (Kevin); beloved grandchildren Amelia & Lincoln; stepdaughter Cindy; sisters Karen & Nina, nieces Kris & Denise; nephew Charles, along with many wonderful past loves, a large extended family & countless friends.

My dad was one of a kind, a modern day pirate, a West Coast legend; it's no secret he was haunted by voices only he could hear. Yet, despite his schizophrenia, Dad always tried to live life with the wind at his back & the throttle wide open.

He was a man of many hats, a "Joe" of all trades, a master carpenter, a deep sea diver, a small motor mechanic, builder of float homes, a storyteller, a carver, a cultivator of the rare Japanese tomato, a salvager, a bushman, a nudist, a fisherman, a sea captain, a fierce environmentalist, & a true survivalist. His zest for a life of freedom was unmeasurable.

He loved Clayoquot Sound, the ocean, collecting rocks, fossils, nature, fishing, sailing, Drum tobacco, calamari, date squares, hearing himself talk, floatsom & jetsom, beer, photography, gum boots, loud music, seafood, beautiful women, psychedelics, burgers, swimming, Chinese food, exploring, old wooden boats, long hikes in the bush, reading, walking on the beach, chocolate cake, sharing his stories, & of course me.

He disliked the after taste of a banana slug, asshats, western medicine, poachers, spelling, jail, dogs that pooped on his chopping block & chewed up his power cords, frequent baths, the voices in his head, pants with functioning zippers, people who litter, sandbars that come out of nowhere, tourist season, leaky boats, politics, asking for help, paperwork, rules & an empty glass.

My dad taught me so much about life, both with his presence & in his absence. He was an intelligent, kind, generous, adventurous, funny, helpful, fearless, resourceful, hardworking, charismatic, perceptive, loving & creative soul.

He will be missed but, I know " His spirit lives on in the howling winter gales, in the lumbering gaits of bears on the shoreline & in the cackles of ravens in the trees."

A Celebration of Life will take place at a future date. In lieu of flowers, I encourage you to commit a random act of kindness, make a donation to your local food bank, clean up trash off your favorite beach, or buy a buddy a beer in his memory.

Requiescat in pace Dad, until we meet again

  • DONATIONS

  • a non-perishable food item to a local food bank

Services

  • Celebration of Life will take place at a later date

Memories

Joseph William Cousineau

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Misty Lawson

11 April 2019

I have a lot of interesting memories of Joe and am often reminded of him by the beautiful pieces of wood that have his trademark all over them, from my dinner table that he cut from salvaged wood to the beautiful bench at Atleo that he built, he made good use of that bench and I was mostly happy to have him inhabit it except when he was having a wobbly pop and telling the tourists that he was a pilot, but even then I got a laugh.
He was very generous and would often bring us fresh fish or crab for dinner.
The sound feels different without Joe, a true unique human he was.
He is and will be missed.

Valerie Langer

10 April 2019

Annamarija you wrote a beautiful piece that captured your dad's essence so well. I have wonderful memories of the two years spent sharing a salvaged dock for our float houses, when you were just a kid. I met Joe when he and Dan brought the tugboat, flying the jolly roger, up to Sulphur Pass. I was trying to put together who this character was - the rough hewn, sensitive soul with a pirate flag on his salvage tug, shouting up into the verdant mountains "This place is sacred", then telling me a fantastic tale of something a rock had told him and laughing about it. He built the skeleton of my float house and decided to tow it down from northern Flores in such a terrific wind I thought it was going to fall apart. But it was built like him - strong as a bull. If there was one thing I had to choose that characterized him it would be his imperative to feed people. He'd show up with a fish (which he seemed to have an internal radar for sensing under the water) or with berries or with any of the many foods he knew how to find. He loved it when others ate well. That's a generous spirit.

Mike Dauphinee

9 April 2019

When Dick closed up the Loft, Olivia bought all the appliances, furniture, and fixtures and myself, my truck, and Joe were hired to haul all the pieces out of there. Lo and behold! In the basement we discovered four big cardboard cartons of wine, still hooked up to the hoses supplying the bar upstairs. Joe was delighted. Me, not so much. As I recall, there wasn't a whole lot more work done that afternoon, but the gang on Doug Mousseau's boat, tied up at the 4th St. dock, Joe included, had a wonderful day of it. I believe we got the rest of the stuff moved the next day. As for Joe, the thing I remember most was his incredible physical strength. If Joe couldn't move it, then it probably couldn't be moved.

Jane Woodbury

9 April 2019

Picture this, The Alley Way Cafe' 1992, in the height of TOURIST SEASON and the place is packed with out of towners, hipsters mostly. Joe is sitting with me at a table, smack dab in the middle of the joint. He's kinda sprawled out in a GREAT BIG way, with a voice to match. While leisurely cleaning his really dirty, west coast, bush guy finger nails, with a pocket knife, we talk CRABS. We were so relaxed...the strangers in town, not so much! HA!

I feel for you.

Christine Lowther

9 April 2019

Joe was often at the dock when I was coming or going, and often offering his help even just to tie up. When my glove fell off the ramp and started drifting away it was Joe who somehow got it back for me. You might not remember me, but I remember you and Eady with love.

Norleen Lillico

9 April 2019

I met Joe, Eadie and you, Anamarija, when I caught a boat ride up to the Bulson blockade. We stopped somewhere near Rolling Stone creek to pick berries. I remember him as a kind-hearted berry lover.
Much love to you, Anamarija

Susanne Lawson

8 April 2019

A big, gentle giant of a man who loved this coast. It is hard to think of this place without him as he was so much a part of it...a very big part of it. He would cut the most beautiful slabs of old growth wood and bring them to town to sell along with fresh crab he would offer you. He knew how to live on the coast in a good way, a real survivalist. He loved the wildlife, always looking out for the bears and forests. He knew instinctively the destructive forces at work. The voices he heard were often interesting...a touch of the visionary world that surrounds us which he would tap into and one would often wonder about. He loved to sit and chat when he was in town...he probably would not see many people often living alone up the inlet. He was generally a friendly giant and was a friend to many. So long Joe, sorry to see you go. Susanne

Maureen Reynolds

8 April 2019

Hi, I grew up w Joe even though I haven't seen him since I was a teenager I remember Joe fondly. On the worst days in the middle of winter pouring rain and look for a bright spot in the sky. Then jump in his car to find it the sun laughing away. Your Dad was a kind soul always a nice person to everyone. RIP My friend Joe