Kenneth Walter Furber

We are sad to announce that Ken Furber passed peacefully at home in his sleep on March 30, 2026. Ken will be deeply missed, as he was one of a kind unique person who had a way of getting under peoples skin. We are all going to miss Ken’s smile, he made our lives fuller, filled with laughs and witty retorts. Ken loved to write and share stories and as such the following are his words.

If you’re reading this it means I Kenneth Walter Furber (late of Sooke B.C.), have croaked, kicked the bucket, shrugged this mortal coil, gone to meet my maker.

O.K. I’m dead.

Born March 28, 1951, in Rossland B.C. I stumbled my way through 75 years. And it’s been an interesting time, like The Chinese curse.

I’ve lived or visited every province and territory but PEI, in this great country, a chunk of the U.S., some of the Carribean, a nibble of Northern Europe and a bite of South America (Cartagena). I had great parents Fred and Vi, now dead, a sister, Maureen, still kicking, three nieces/nephews, Velvet, Nikki and Matthew and a crap load of cousins (Furbers are a fruitful bunch) and nicer-than-I-deserved in-laws. Most of all, I was luckier than my weathered hide deserved to have the greatest wife (Dianne), son (Terrance) and daughter-in-law (Terrilyn) in the whole wide world. No, I’m not exaggerating. It’s documented. Look it up www.Iwouldn’tlietoyou.com

Interesting also, describes my work history to a tee. Besides 20 years as a small-town community newspaper reporter/editor, I also enjoyed time as a forest-fire lookout, 5 years in the Canadian Navy and 5 and a half years as a dispatcher/complaint-taker for the Burnaby RCMP. There’s a lot more I mention, because I tend to get bored (or fired), but I’ll leave it at that. I’ve been blessed to have lived most of my life in or near wild or semi-wild places.

There is nothing like the feel of sun on my shoulders, wind in my hair, or the sound of a boot crunching along a seldom used trail.

I’ve hiked from the ocean-side trails of Southern Vancouver Island to the haunting hills of Northern Ellesmere Island. (the frozen chosen know what I’m talking about here.)

Life could have been more interesting I suppose but I don't know how.

I want you to know I didn’t die easy, as in “don’t go easy into that good night”. I loved this life, and sucked every bit of goodness out of it I could. It’s worth fighting for.

I’d been aiming at a century, but reality, common sense, my love of beer and asbestos exposure came knocking.

Mostly it was the asbestos. Who’d-a-thought? Peritoneal Mesotheleoma had other plans. Look it up! It’s a fine lovely beauty of a disease. Deadly as hell and takes its time. Enjoys its work-it does.

At least I made it past 75. Many of my comrades in life did not. I’m grateful for my life and those I lived it with. They were gems.

Well, that’s it, my friends.

Remember, the meaning of life is to live it.

Simple as that. So get on with it.

In lieu of flowers etc. please do a random act of kindness for someone.

Catch you on the flip side