Corey David Hayes

February 27, 1972 - November 11, 2007

In loving memory of my brother, who lived his dreams and died chasing them.

Wherever you are now Corey, may the weather be bright, the seas fair and the fish biting.

I wish I had told you this more often in life, but I was proud of you and all you had accomplished. I love you little brother.

"A sibling may be the keeper of one's identity, the only person with the keys to one's unfettered, more fundamental self." ~Marian Sandmaier

"Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring - quite often the hard way." ~Pamela Dugdale

My Eulogy for Corey:

Corey was my brother, my friend and often the bane of my childhood existence, just as a brother should be. He had an energy within him that drove him to be forever in motion. There were only two things that could keep my brother still, being sick…and fishing. That energy was contagious, and when combined with his lopsided grin and laugh no one could deny him what he wanted; at least not for long. As I stand here today and look at all the people here to celebrate his life, I realize just how strong that drive was, that he had time to touch each and every one of our lives in a lasting way. They say that any two people in the world are connected by no more than six degrees of separation. Thanks to the energy and joy my brother had for his life and his work, his family and his friends, today we are all connected by only one degree of separation, Corey.

When he was fishing Corey was transformed, it was his calling, his passion and his joy. It was his centre, the one thing that turned a hyper boy into a statue for days on end, waiting patiently for the fish he knew was there; just beyond his sight. From the time he was old enough to bait a hook, he sought out fish in every ocean, pond, pool and stream, and when they weren't there he wasn't above introducing them just so he could fish. Even our own swimming pool was once stocked with trout he'd taken from Beaver Lake, slipped into a five gallon bucket and pedaled them all the way home on his bike, one at a time.

As I sat and tried to write this speech, there were so many memories of Corey that came flooding back to me. The sound of his almost maniacal laughter as he tried to recapture a runaway king crab as it went scuttling across my kitchen floor…Corey's contribution to Christmas Dinner the first year I had it at my home. I'll never forget trying to make gravy while dodging an angry crustacean with no interest in becoming part of the meal. There was the time he brought home a sea gull chick "that had just floated away from its nest mom." That we all helped to raise. One day Corey decided to teach Jeremy the rescued seagull to fly by taking him up on the roof and tossing him off. Fortunately, Jeremy spread his wings before impact.

He tackled life his own way, never shirking from hard work and forever seeking to be one with the ocean and waters that he loved. Those who loved him knew the risks of the life he had chosen, and we consider ourselves blessed that when his time came, it was not the ocean that claimed him, that he died in peace and without pain, never knowing the moment he moved from this life into the next one.

Corey packed his days with all the things that mattered to him, the ocean, hunting, friends, family; the ones he loved most. He was blessed to have so many who loved him, and it helps a little in coping with his loss to know that he will live on in the hearts and minds of so many others. He was gone so fast, so far from home, and as his journey back to his home and family has happened, so have each of us had to begin our own journey into a world without Corey in it. My world will be a little darker without his light, and lonelier without his laughter. He was my brother, and I will never forget him.

Corey doing what he loved most, being out on the water, catching anything that swam.

If you want to know more about what took Corey from us, or to donate in his memory, please go to http://www.sads.ca

contact Susan Hayes