Bruno's Bench

Yesterday morning, the first of my days off this week, I woke to the dreary sound of a Vancouver winter downpour. This was especially disappointing as this was the day I had agreed to visit Bruno's bench with a dear friend who knew Bruno intimately, his wife Brigitte.

On November 11th of this year I wrote a blog in memory of Bruno, and to my surprise, a friend of a relative of the family in France read the blog and forwarded it to Brigitte, who was still here in Vancouver although I had not been able to find her. I received an email from her son telling me that the family had read the blog, and the same day another email from Brigitte.

After hearing from them I surfed the net to find out more family info and found that they had dedicated a bench to Bruno, in his memory. And so, for nearly two months now, I have been planning a visit to Hastings Mill Park to visit Bruno's bench.

The fact that the family had dedicated a bench in Bruno's memory delighted me, as the words "Bruno's bench" have long been a part of my vocabulary.

I had an earlier version of this bench with me for many years, which was constructed, painted a dark sky blue, and given to me as my first and only piece of furniture in a newly rented room on West 2nd in Kitsilano in 1978 when I was working in the old Greenpeace office at 4th and Arbutus, by my good friend and the designer and builder himself, Bruno Castellan. My décor was Bruno’s bench, and a mattress on the floor and a magazine picture of a gorgeous woman in a bath on the wall.

For several years Bruno's bench served as my table and writing desk. I ate, kneeling down on a pillow beside it, and I wrote my poetry and songs on it. This was not an act of devotion to my friend, but simple necessity as I had little money, travel plans, and no inclination to plant roots.

Once we connected via the Internet, Brigitte agreed to accompany me to Bruno’s bench on a bright and sunny day when our schedules didn’t conflict, and it seemed that despite the rain, this had to be the day. We came close to postponing when I called in the morning, but then agreed to "brave the elements" in honor of Bruno.

We arrived at the park together in the pouring rain, umbrellas aloft and dodging deep puddles and muddy patches and made our way to the bench. It was too wet to sit, and there was a trough full of water in front of the bench where the ground was indented by the feet of many who had sat in this spot. So we walked around behind the bench and talked, and I rested a free hand on the back of the bench.

It was quite chilly in the rain, but Brigitte and I had a lot of ground to cover and we talked non-stop. From time to time I looked out over the bay towards Bowen Island where it seemed that a rift in the clouds was developing. Steady rain had been forecast for a full week but then Brigitte said, “It’s stopped raining,” and folded her umbrella. I could barely believe it, and had not noticed until she said something, but I followed suit.

We decided to walk back through Jericho Park still sharing many memories involving Bruno and the spirit of his love and friendship. By the time we left the park the sun was beginning to emerge from the clouds, and by the time we finished our coffee at Yoka’s on 4th, we walked out into a clear and sunny day.

Today, it seems to me that Bruno’s spirit had accompanied us through the rain and aided in parting the clouds just so we could realize our hope of a sunny day visit to his bench, dedicated to his memory by family and friends in memory of "et tous nos bons moments ensemble" or"and all the good times we had together"!