Sharon Phyllis Corrin

I want to share how I felt she took on the world and all its challenges courageously. Then I want to describe her adventurous spirit — the spirit that brought her across Canada and then around the world with her soulmate, seeing everything everywhere. And finally, I want to speak to the irony inherent in the medical condition that resulted in such profound losses for her.

She was the daughter of Phyllis and Herb Tatton, and sister to Janet. She was a wife and companion to Walter Corrin, and later found the love of her life with Joe McMeeken. She was the mother of David and Brian — me. A beloved mother in law to Nancy Corrin, a loving grandmother to Ben and Katrina Corrin, and a cherished part of the McMeeken family.

She was a woman confidently courageous in just about any situation. She could talk to anyone and always made people feel heard in a caring, friendly way. Who joins Toastmasters for fun? That skill made anyone she met feel important — even though she was always, always, always filling the space between us. Hours on the phone could disappear so easily.

This special skill bloomed when the family moved from the farm back to Calgary so she could finish high school. She blossomed when you realize that the girl with huge winged glasses and teeth that needed braces in the worst way became a cheerleader in high school. Her friendly, caring way meant she wasn’t just a girl from nowhere Saskatchewan — she wasn’t just a cheerleader — she became the head cheerleader.

She met and married Walter Corrin after high school. They met in Calgary and worked together at the Bank of Nova Scotia, which has since become a tradition in our family. Regrettably, the relationship faced challenges that resulted in a breakup.

Sharon could have moved herself and her boys to Vancouver Island to be closer to her family and enjoy their love and support. She didn’t. She faced the breakup of her marriage, was tasked with raising two boys, and stayed where they went to school, keeping their lives as normal as possible. She courageously took on the responsibility of raising her boys on her own in her three bedroom condo at 998 Howie.

Anyone who knew her knew she had an adventurous spirit that meshed so well with Joe McMeeken — the love of her life and her kindred spirit best friend. It began in childhood: she spent a year unable to speak, so she immersed herself in fiction and non fiction books, which sparked her drive to see everything everywhere.

After high school she married Wally, and together they began her first adventure: seeing Canada. Wally worked for the Bank of Nova Scotia in computer banking, and they moved across Canada and back. I was born in Lethbridge, and David three years earlier in Edmonton. We lived in Winnipeg, then Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, across the harbour from Halifax. It can be said she lived in the Calgary spirit, had family throughout Saskatchewan, lived in Manitoba, experienced Ontario — seeing Niagara Falls and Toronto — and the Maritimes except Newfoundland. Then she crossed back across Canada to Coquitlam, B.C.

This was just the start of her adventurous spirit. She took a break in Coquitlam from her adventures to raise her boys.

But after she was free and found Joe, they shared a love for adventure. I could list all the places they enjoyed, but it would be far easier to list where she didn’t go. She was a divorced mother of two who never gave up her dream of seeing the world — and she didn’t. She made it happen with the best thing that ever happened to her: Joe, and the family who embraced her.

The irony, given her courageous, independent, adventurous, friendly, caring way, is that she was afflicted with Alzheimer’s — a disease that stole her voice.

I must be honest: at times I would call her Edith Bunker from All in the Family. Her stories had such rich detail, no matter how many times they had been shared before. Hours would disappear on the phone with her, listening to stories that I sometimes wished weren’t quite so full — but now I wish more than anything that I could hear them again.

The disease first stole her independence, which she fought with everything she had. She continued using HandyDART and spending time at Dogwood Senior Centre. She needed to be around people — that was her real superpower.

Her courage meant she was more concerned about whether she would pass the disease on to her children or grandchildren, and we never heard her complain. I often recall the big deep breath she let out when she discovered she had sporadic, not genetic familial Alzheimer’s. She could finally relax, knowing she wasn’t hurting her children or grandchildren — that would have destroyed her.

As the disease progressed, she lost the ability to feed her adventurous spirit except through the loving support of Joe. The greatest challenge was the loss of her ability to speak. A woman who shared her stories and built her relationships through words became lost — but she was always just a veil away.

I want to share a story from last year, when she had lost her ability to speak. We brought Roo, Katrina’s kitten, to visit Sharon when she was only a few months old. Sharon began saying “Roo” and tried as best she could to pet the tiny kitten climbing up her. Sharon never changed — she was just caged.

She was always there, but separated by the veil of perception created by her disease.

Sharon was a courageous divorced single mom who raised her two boys on her own. She was a confident, gregarious woman who always made everyone feel loved. My wife Nancy talks about how nervous she was to meet her for the first time — and how Sharon immediately made her feel welcome, heard, and loved.

Her adventurousness started with books about the world, and then with her first husband Wally she saw all of Canada. We even went to Oak Island to see the Money Pit before it became cool. She saw all of Canada.

Joe, her true love, whom she met later in life, shared her adventurous spirit, and together they left no stone unturned. They saw everything everywhere.

The disease couldn’t have been worse for her. It stole her mobility, her confidence, and her superpower — her voice. But Roo assures you she was always there. And we all wish we could hear her stories of adventure again.

There will be a memorial in Coquitlam on June 2 and there will be her internment on June 4 in Qualicum Beach. Please reach out to family if you like the details.