Brian was never a man of half measures. There were no gray areas with him-he was either all in or all out. That’s how he lived his life from the very beginning.

There’s a picture of him as a young boy on a tricycle, and it says everything about who he was. While most kids would stick to the easy path, Brian found the steepest sloping sidewalk he could and practiced again and again until he could make it all the way down without falling-and then just kept going. That determination, that drive to push himself, stayed with him for a better part of his life.

He did well in school, always earning good grades, and he was very popular. But what really stood out was his competitive spirit. In the fall, it was football. In the winter, hockey. And in everything he did, he gave it everything he had.

In his 20s and 30s, he took up racquetball. At first glance, some might have underestimated him-he wasn’t especially tall, about 5’11”, and maybe carried a little extra weight. But that only made it more satisfying for him when he went out there and wiped the floor with his opponents, which he did more often than not.

Brian loved speed and challenge. In his late teens and 20s, he rode motorcycles and always sought out the most curved roads-the ones that demanded skill and nerve. He rode so hard he wore out three sets of pedals. That tells you everything about how he approached life.

He carried that same spirit onto the ski slopes in Jasper, where he preferred the back runs-the more difficult the better. Easy was never what he was after.

After high school, Brian attended NAIT, studying computer technology for two years. When graduated, he was recruited into the life insurance industry, where he quickly rose into management. He had a sharp mind, a quick wit, and a dry sense of humor that drew people to him. He built a successful career and truly enjoyed it for many years.

And when Brian stepped into that professional world, he looked the part completely. How he presented himself was extremely important to him. It was always the right suit, the proper tie, the perfect shirt-everything carefully coordinated-with impeccably shined shoes. In fact, it often took him longer to get ready and finish his coiffure than it did for me-and I was wearing makeup.

Some of his fondest memories were from childhood summers spent at the family cabin at Cochin Beach, Saskatchewan. Those were the kind of days that stay with you-swimming, jet skiing, boating, and just goofing off. He was lucky enough to continue enjoying that place well into his 40s, and it always held a special place in his heart.

If Brian had a motto, it would have been simple: bigger, better, faster. That mindset defined so much of how he lived.

In later years, when his health began to decline, that drive slowed-but what never changed was how much he loved his family. His grandchildren, especially, meant the world to him. He loved bringing family and friends together at the lake, roasting marshmallows for the little ones, and simply being surrounded by the people he cared about most.

In 1999, we moved to a new area in Edmonton, and that’s when we met our neighbors to the south-Jack and Marilyn Halliday. From the very beginning, we just clicked. What followed was 23 years of friendship-some of the best years of our lives. There were countless conversations over the fence, planned and impromptu gatherings, and a shared sense of laughter and connection that meant so much to us.

One memory that captures Brian so perfectly is a time when he and Jack were trying to get a fire going in the fire pit. It wasn’t catching fast enough, so-true to form, bigger, better, faster-Brian grabbed the Zippo fluid from the garage, poured it on, and they tossed in a match. The flame shot straight out the air hole at the bottom and nearly set their shoes on fire. And what did they do? They just laughed.

That was Brian. He lived fully, pushed limits, and found joy in the moment. It’s funny how the best times in our lives often aren’t fully recognized until after they’ve passed. But looking back now, those moments-those simple, shared, laughter-filled days-were everything.

In recent years, Brian faced the challenges of dementia-a reality that so many families are touched by today. And while that chapter was difficult, it does not define the man he was. For those who came into the family later and only knew Brian during that time, I wish you could have known him as I did-the man I met, the man I fell in love with, and the remarkable person he was for so many years.

For those who knew Brian before, or took the time to truly discover who he was, I hope that when you think of him, it will be with compassion in your heart-remembering the man he was before this terrible disease took hold.

I dearly miss “that” Brian.

Jeanne Laurie