LETTER

Deep roots in the Parc des Cèdres Baseball park

 

My name is Patrick Forsythe. I am writing this letter to tell you a story that has great impact not only on me but the softball community surrounding Parc des Cèdres in Aylmer.

On October 10, 2013, my father died after a battle with cancer.  This was the most difficult day of my life, the culmination of many difficult days since we had first received his diagnosis 13 months prior.  Seeing the life drain from him day after day broke my heart.  My father had been an almost larger than life figure, vibrant and full of energy, always in good shape, loud, friendly and yet also flawed in a way that made him even more likeable.

I was raised at ballparks, watching my father play the sport he loved. He was a character on and off the field and this made him one of the more recognizable people around the softball community.  For myself, I made many friends there both as a child and as an adult; this was an important place in my childhood.  One of my father’s greatest wishes was to play ball with his son one day and that finally took place there, at Parc des Cèdres, when I joined his team.

I digress, but the backstory is important to the point.  My mother, sister and I returned home that evening, thoroughly crushed.  Eventually, I couldn’t make any more calls to let people know he had died, but here’s the thing: Our community is so close-knit that word spread like wildfire and we were receiving condolence messages, social media posts and visits at my mother’s house from people I had not told.  We heard that people were gathering at Parc des Cèdres, so my sister and I threw on a couple of my dad’s jerseys and headed down.

We arrived to a beautifully moving sight: Someone had placed paper bag lanterns in front of the backstop that spelled out my father’s name, anchored by his jersey number on both sides and a heart at the end.  Over time, people started filtering in as word spread. There were easily over 100 people at the park that night.  Knowing that my father had touched each of these people’s lives in such a positive way, the shared grief made the burden feel that little bit easier to bear.  This was not a gathering of friends, this was family being there for one another in a dark time.  I can’t think of a more fitting memorial to my father than the impromptu one that came to be that night.  It was truly a magical thing which speaks to how amazing this community is and how strong its ties to Parc des Cèdres are.

None of us really knew how to go about having the field memorialized in my father’s honour. Despite this, a sign had been commissioned, a sign that we hang and take down every night.  Reshaping the park doesn’t just get rid of a ballfield, it’s ripping the fabric of this community, it’s taking a piece of my father’s memory and legacy away, it’s destroying a gathering place where one of the closest communities in Gatineau gather every year to be around their friends and family. To you, this is simply Parc des Cèdres, but to us, this is Terrain de balle Fred Forsythe Ballpark.

Patrick Forsythe