Valerie Marie McCardell

Valerie,

First of all, Valerie had three names. She was Mickie from her childhood until we came to Canada. All of her relatives and old friends know her only as Mickie. When we came here she wanted to be Valerie. Do not ever, never, call her Val. Valerie is musical.

The other thing: do not tell her she should come down from the roof. She will tell you she cannot allow Mike to go up there because he’ll fall off. And Mike can’t go up there because she told him he’s not allowed to.

And do not tell her she’s a daycare worker. She is a teacher. She will take a stick and teach a kid how to write his or her name in the dirt, and then tell them to wash their hands because that’s what you do after playing in the dirt.

And do not complain about your life being hard. Because her life was hard and she did not, ever, ever, complain.

Everyone has pictures of their babyhood. Their growing up time. I have two pictures of Valerie. In both she is painfully thin, wearing a pretty dress for the picture. I don’t think she saw it again.

She and her brother David were left in Jamaica while first their mother and then their father went off for a better life in America. She was a teenager before she saw them again.

And do not complain to her about aches and pains. When she was seven or eight or nine she was stabbed in her leg with a broken bottle by another kid. It severed the tendons in her ankle. She cared for it herself. Wrapped it up in leaves. As she grew, her foot bent over and her ankle was touching the ground. Then an operation with a steel rod that went from her heel to her shin. It was not a good operation. Her foot was not straight. She limped and she was in pain. And she did not complain.

On the good side, she walked way faster than her husband. Even in pain. She joked about a husband who could not keep up with her.

When she taught kids to write their names in the dirt, it hurt her foot because the ground was uneven. She stayed up late cutting out pictures of ducks and elephants to tell stories about, and she got up early to get to work on time because she did not want the kids to be there without her. When she walked in some of them said: “Hello, Celery,” because they could not say Valerie.

Good night, Celery. Sleep well.

Love,

Mike

Valerie was wife to Mike, mother to Colleen and Sean, grandmother to Ruby and Zoe, a respected educator, and friend to many. After raising her children she earned a Bachelor’s degree in History from Simon Fraser University and a Diploma in Early Childhood Education with a specialty in Special Needs. She worked in the field for almost 30 years. She was a generous and talented hostess, dedicated gardener, kind neighbour and loyal friend. Known for her creative spirit and always being fully engaged in life, she will be dearly missed.

In lieu of flowers please consider making a donation to the Terry Fox Foundation in Valerie’s honour.