Tempus Accelerare: a screenplay of Brian's
Brian's MOC Trip Reports (samples)
BillEgible, LightSpeedChick and ShakyLegs on Brian's passing.
Credits for his work in film and on video games.
ElaineStatement.pdf (11K)
A
Silhouette in an evening storm
A runner up a hill on an English morn
For a little girl an airplane ride
A tall timber for two little guys
A wry wit and a mischievous smile
A booming laugh with an easy style
A listening ear, a guiding light
A Northern star in a starless night
A beloved brother, uncle, son and friend
To the mountain his soul ascends
From the UK service with Joan and Pauline Hogan and family.
Thank you all very much for coming: your love and support have been, and are, so very much appreciated. I ask you to join Joan and I in thinking of Brian's parents, Sheila and Frank, and his brothers John and Steven, and sister, Claire, who are devastated by this tragedy.
Brian was born in 1967.
I have happy memories of a holiday in Halifax, Nova Scotia in 1979. Sheila and Frank, Claire and Brian came to visit my family as we were living there at the time. This was the first time Brian and Claire had seen the sea! They loved it and it was obvious that Brian, as he leapt in and out of the water, would always have the great outdoors close to his heart.
He went through school in Montreal and was bilingual - a new concept in the early seventies. In the North American manner, Brian did two degrees at University finally studying film making - a subject he loved.
When Brian came to visit England, he came to stay with me in Yorkshire. We visited Bolton Abbey, Fountains Abbey, and I recall he climbed up Malham Cove like a gazelle, whilst I waited patiently in the car park! - His spirit of adventure and love of the outdoors was always there.
Last year I was in Canada and I saw him fighting to regain his strength after a horrific accident he had suffered whilst climbing. Brian had terrible injuries and had lost the sight in one eye: I was so full of admiration for him - because he was determined to get fit enough to climb again. He succeeded in getting to that state.
It is a big consolation to us that we know he was last seen doing the thing he loved best - Brain was in the great outdoors tackling a mountain.
We are here to celebrate his life: thank you once again for your love, care and support.
Sheila said:
He gave his body to the mountain
His soul to God
His spirit to all who loved him.
I hope his heaven is full of mountains...
God bless him.
Frank and Sheila Faughnan
Brian D. Faughnan, BEng, MEng, BFA.
Lost while climbing in Whistler B.C. July 13th 2002.
He leaves to mourn his parents Frank and Sheila Faughnan his siblings John
(Emily), Steven (Josie), Claire (Mike), his niece Lauren, and his nephews Tim and
Ben. He will be missed by his many friends and extended family.
He gave his body to the mountain
His soul to God
His spirit to all who loved him
Our profound gratitude goes to the members and alumni of the McGill Outdoors Club who helped with Brian's search and supported us, to the volunteer search and rescue team in Whistler B.C., and to the people of Whistler who have been very generous and kind.
The Brian Faughnan Memorial Fund, c\o 120 Windcrest Ave, Pointe Claire Quebec H9R 3W1 has been established to:
- Offset some of the search costs, particularly for MOC members.
- Additional projects to be determined, which may include:
- funds to purchase additional MOC loaner equipment (FRS radios, GPS)
- support ongoing survival training
- development of an online trip registration service aimed at solo hikers. (possibly with corporate sponsorship)
Brian was eight years younger than I. For the years we had with him, he was my much younger brother. When I joined the search in Whistler, the RCMP thought I was Brian’s father. Eight years can be a long time, especially if one is prone to gray hair.
I remember Brian when I left home at 19. I went far away, and I would not really see him for many years. I think we knew that when we said good-bye. He was eleven then. I remember that he held my hands when we crossed busy streets, and that I was a bit embarrassed, but also grateful. I don’t know how true that memory is, but for years I have missed him holding my hand. Now I hold the hands of my sons, and that is precious to me. I think of Brian then.
After Brian was born, we received an honorary centennial letter. He was a ‘67 baby, born on Canada’s special birthday. That impressed me then. I thought that made him special too, and so he always seemed to us. Blessed. Last summer he and I decided I was the buggy 1.0 release, and he a much-improved version. He had many gifts, he was the beloved child. Beloved by his family, by his friends, by my sons Timothy and Ben and his niece Lauren.
What did I know of Brian the adult? Not so much, at least until recent years. We corresponded and saw each other at holidays, and sometimes we visited. We seemed to think quite a bit alike, but we lived far apart. It was a grace that he stayed with my family for a month in the summer of 2001. We had an easy time together, talking of many things. He mentions one of our conversations in a screenplay. I found that screenplay in Vancouver and I read it on the plane ride home. Someday soon I’ll put some more pictures and the screenplay on the website – you can read it there if you like.
In Vancouver, when he was gone, I learned more. Sometimes psychics would say they heard him, but I could not. His friends could speak though. With his family Brian was often quiet, even reticent, with a wry, sardonic wit. In that year that was a week, I learned he could be bold and boistrous, a clown and a leader, a flirt and a mentor. I learned of his life as a teacher, an explorer and an adventurer. I learned that for a grown person, an older brother tells only a part of a story.
In Whistler, and upon the mountain with Brian’s friends, he felt as though he was close by, though I could not touch him. I remembered then older parts of my life; as though in some other world I was traveling Brian’s path.
We looked hard for Brian those bright days on Rainbow Mountain, my brother Steven first alone, and then all of us together. We looked beneath rocks, in crevasses and open fields, in dense brush and beneath ice and snow. We looked from the air and from the ground. For every place we looked, there were a thousand others. We found nothing, and yet we did find him, or a part of him. His memory was among us. On the last day there, I said good-bye to the mountain, and to him.
So he has gone. An explorer, born out of time, between the great ages of exploration, he has gone too far ahead of us. It is a terrible thing to be without him. My son Timothy adored him. Even now, abruptly, he tells us “I really miss Uncle Brian very much”. So do I. So do all of us.
Our special brother, friend, child, is gone. His thoughts and dreams and works live only in us now. We each alone and together will find our ways to carry his memory. Holding a child’s hand, eating an apple, walking the mountains, seeing the summits, I will think of him. In new paths and old ways revisited, I will think of him. We go on, but Brian is, forever, 35.