And it's spinning around
In love with the sound of its own voice
And its toughest skin has been stretched so thin, it's invisible to us
And if I forget will your hand be soft and guide me through it?
And above all the rest I can't seem to pound my fist in deep enough...
There is no end without you
There is no end without you
There is no sun to keep us warm in the winter
Without you
I am... I am... I am... without you
It is with the heaviest of hearts that we share the devastating news that Ruthann Thompson (born in London, ON and recently of Cambridge) has passed away at the age of 58 after a brief but valiant battle with cancer. As husband Dan Currie has long said, Ruthann has always been a true angel on Earth and her passing will leave an unfillable void in the lives of her family and countless friends. Ruthann will be particularly missed by husband Dan and his sons Ryan and Adam; her brother Dave and his wife Krista; their children Kennedy (her husband Zachary) and Mal; Uncle John and Aunt Anne, many cousins, inlaws, and so many friends. Rest in peace, sweet angel, you’ve earned it.
Ruthann grew up as a resident of London’s Byron neighbourhood where she met lifelong friend Julia who writes, “When friends become family. That’s who Ruthann has always been for me. For fifty years since meeting in grade four Ruthann has always been there. Through all the kid stuff: hanging out with her and Leslie everyday watching soap operas after school, weekend sleepovers, playing poker an entire summer on her family's back deck and countless trips to Sauble Beach. I can’t remember a moment growing up without her. Later on our friendship changed but never ended. She became my daughter Reece's Godmother and special pet sitter for Storm (no one was more trusted). Family trips to the cottage and elsewhere included Dan and Blue. Never far from my heart and always that phone call away. Terry, Reece, and I will miss you every day.”
As Julia noted, Ruthann spent her summers at the family cottage at Sauble Beach with big brother Dave, their now deceased parents, Bev and Jim, and cherished Grandma “Haha” Topham. Speaking for the Tophams, cousin Shannon writes, “Our cousin Rudy was more like a big sister. We’ll always treasure her love for family, her laughter and beautiful memories of piggyback rides, riding her gold cottage bike, and seeing her ‘cool’ friends. Christmas gatherings, post-dinner singing, and special guest appearances from Mrs. Beasley, Williamo and Jeffrey Peabody brought endless laughter and made those family moments unforgettable. Rudy’s loving and supportive nature made her our true rock—a rare gem—one of a kind cousin and niece who is so loved.”
Ruthann spent many hours babysitting for the Crinklaws during her early years, and in high school, used the money she earned to travel through Europe. Building on this interest in child welfare, Ruthann studied Child and Youth Care at London's Fanshawe College and spent the first part of her career supervising youth in open custody at Community Homes in London. Longtime friend and former coworker Sally writes, “Ruthann, dubbed Rudy by Program Coordinator Michael C, devoted herself to working with Young Offenders for many years, seeing hope where others might have seen only hardship. She believed in second chances, offered encouragement without judgement, and helped countless young people find a better path. Her legacy lives on through the lives she changed and the hope she inspired. Beyond her work, Rudy treasured her friendships. Some of the happiest memories are of the spontaneous road trips taken to various Blues Festivals with Tim or Errol driving and Odile, Sally and Rudy having the time of their lives in the back of the van. Those journeys were always filled with much laughter, endless conversations and unforgettable moments. Rudy was also blessed to work alongside wonderful colleagues—Kathy, Derek, Smitty, Barry, Shift Partner Jeff O, Mary, and countless others who became lifelong friends. Together, they shared more than a workplace; they formed a family grounded in respect, laughter, compassion and a shared commitment to caring for others. Rudy leaves us with a beautiful reminder: a life is measured not by the years we live, but by the love we give and the people we lift along the way. She will be deeply missed, lovingly remembered, and forever carried in our hearts.”
This line of work would prove to be too heavy for Ruthann’s loving heart, and at twenty-seven years old, she decided to move back home with her parents and reinvent herself by studying Massage Therapy at the D’Arcy Lane Institute. Ruthann spent her single years chasing the sun on fun girls trips from Playa del Carmen to Maui, and of this period her best friend Jenny writes, “During her time in London and Strathroy when she finished her massage training and started her business, Ruthann had a lot of fun with friends, especially former roommate Debbie and her husband Steve, Laura, Steve Kraus, Gail and her husband Steve, their children Benjamin and Iris, me and my husband Jason, as well as our daughter Emily (Ruthann’s self-proclaimed BFF). There was never a song she wouldn’t dance to, a tune she wouldn’t sing so it would get stuck in your head or was always looking for an opportunity to do something fun, such as weekend trips to Kingsville (what was known as the center of the universe) and attend the annual Fireman BBQ. Rudy was very close with Laura’s parents there—they basically adopted her into the family—and she called them Mom and Dad #2 and continued visiting them even after Laura’s passing, far too young. She also called my parents Mom and Dad #2, as I called hers, and she loved joining my family at the Pinetree Harbour cottage for long weekends, watching out for the best porta potty to stop at near the halfway point of our long drive home. Rudy was always the life of any room because of how funny she was and the joy that surrounded her. She was the go-to girl when you were having a bad day because she would always find a way to make you feel better and hopefully that included some of her Christmas crack chocolate treats. There was never a dull moment when you were around her, thankfully.”
Also at this time, Ruthann began to be known as beloved “Aunt Rudy” to her brother’s children, Kennedy and Mal. No aunt was ever more loving, more fun, or more cherished. Mal writes, “To know my Aunt Rudy was to know what love is. She always made sure that the people around her were taken care of and felt the immense love she had for them. One of my favourite examples is how every year, she made sure that my sister and I had goodie bags of chocolates and treats for Valentine's Day despite her birthday being the day before. She wanted us to feel included and loved despite it being a day that was supposed to be about her. I’ll never forget the sleepovers in Strathroy where she would enthusiastically watch over my sister and me, and despite us being balls of energy and craziness, she never once made us feel like too much to handle. She accepted and loved us as we are and loved to celebrate what made us different, encouraging us to be our authentic selves in every aspect of our lives. She was always a beacon of what a good person is and has inspired me my whole life to show up for the people you love, and I hope to carry on her legacy by continuing to spread that love wherever I go.”
Ruthann would go on to have a nearly thirty year career as a healing professional, and it is a testament to her open and generous nature that most of her clientele over the years would come to call her “friend”. One such longtime friend and client Maria writes, “We met back in 1986 at Fanshawe College in the Child and Youth Care Worker program and instantly became great friends. Looking back, we were actually pretty mellow in college. Thursday nights were big nights of McDonald's for dinner!! After graduation, I moved to Hamilton and got married, but we managed to stay connected the old-fashioned way—writing letters back and forth for years before email was around, back when long-distance calls actually cost real money! Eventually, we lost touch for a bit (I had two children), but life brought us right back together when she took over massage clients for Diane. The moment we reconnected, we picked up exactly where we left off. Ruthann was an incredible massage therapist—in fact, almost our entire family went to her. You always knew you were in good hands with Ruthann; she had a calm, confident, and deeply caring nature that made you feel completely at ease the moment you laid down. For me, those sessions were always a double blessing: a chance to catch up on our lives and a safe space where we could solve whatever problems either of us was facing.”
Ruthann initially started her practise in Strathroy, where she was able to purchase her first house on her own, but after friend and fellow Massage Therapist Diane introduced Ruthann to her cousin, and subsequent love of Ruthann’s life, Dan, she started spending more and more time in his hometown of Kitchener, until eventually moving in with him in 2006. Ruthann took over Diane’s practice in Cambridge when she passed away, and soon added a second office at her friend Barb’s clinic in Elora. When Bev and Jim began to need more support in order to live independently, Ruthann and Dan purchased a home in Cambridge that provided her parents with their own living quarters. Speaking for the Thompson side of the family, cousin Michele writes, “Ruthann was not only our cousin and niece, but also a dear friend to our family. We will never forget her ability to make sure everyone was okay during the toughest times, even when she was going through difficult things herself. That was the kind of beautiful person she was—always caring, always thinking of others. We will cherish the memories of our childhood visits, family weddings, and all the special moments we shared together. Our hearts are broken, but Ruthann will forever live on in our memories, our stories, and our everyday conversations. Rest in peace, our beautiful cousin. We love you and will love you forever. Aunt Anne, Uncle John, Bernadette, Michele, Michael, and Terry Thompson.”
Ruthann and Dan both worked tirelessly to care for her parents in the home until Bev and Jim’s passing, and after Dan’s parents Joan and Jim then moved in, they spent years lovingly caring for them as well. Brother-in-law Mike writes, “Ruthann and Joan shared a common gift, engaging and connecting with family and extended family. No small feat given the size and complexity of the Buchholtz/Currie and Thompson clans. Rooted in their love for family, their engagement and interest was genuine and endeared by all.” Sister-in-law Cheryl adds, “Ruthann is one of the most compassionate people that I have met with her deep kindness and empathy to help others. Just a year and a half ago she discussed with me her desire to complete education to become an end of life Doula. She has a special way of making a safe space when we are together for both of us to share our thoughts and feelings. She was never judgemental.”
To know Ruthann was to know love. She made it her mission to talk to neighbours while out walking lovingly spoiled dogs Kiwi, Blue, and Meeko—at least twice a day, in all weather—and she made true and lasting friendships along the way. For years, Ruthann attended early morning classes at the gym before work, and all who met her there were the happy recipients of her encouragement, good humour, and inspiration. Ruthann’s niece Kennedy writes, “I will forever be inspired by my Aunt Rudy, who did not know the meaning of the word quit. For years she woke up every morning to attend the early bootcamp class, first by herself; then after she moved to Cambridge, with my mom Krista; then after I moved back to Cambridge, with me too. Rudy dedicated her life to caring for other people, but she always did something for herself every morning before most people are out of their pjs. Some mornings were harder than others to not hit the snooze button—and no one likes doing burpees no matter what time of day it is—but Rudy was always there with the best attitude and the biggest smile in the room. I am so lucky to have spent nearly every morning with her over the last four years. Not just to be able to chat, giggle, share stories and push each other to be our best, but also to see how many people her big, beautiful heart touched. From bootcamp, to Mudgirl runs, to long hikes with the ‘dog parade’, Rudy always said ‘yes’ to life, to community and to family. I will carry her with me as I keep up her good habits, but there is a lot less sunshine at 6 a.m. without her.”
As Jann Arden said to Ruthann in a recent video, “Whatever your journey is about to be, know that I am right behind you. We are all right behind you. We are all walking the exact same road. The unavoidable road into something that is going to be a big surprise, it’s going to be a big surprise, and I think it’s going to be a good surprise.” As Ruthann precedes us on this unavoidable road, her family and friends remember her with so much love, welcome the end of pain, and know her love-filled journey can only lead to the biggest, best surprise; godspeed, angel.
Dan was a fierce advocate for Ruthann as they navigated the medical and hospital systems, and when she was released into his hands for palliative care at home, Dan took to those duties with incredible love and expertise. The last words are his: “I met Ruthann at a pool hall on a blind date that my cousin Diane had set up. I had fun that night having a couple of drinks, a few laughs and teaching Ruthann how to hold a cue. I often thought she may have been flirting with me by pretending she needed my help. She really was quite bad but I encouraged her with praise and how quickly I thought she was picking it up. We seemed to get along just fine. At the end of the night Diane and her boyfriend Steve offered to drive Ruthann home as the three of them lived in Cambridge and I was in Kitchener in the other direction. I gave her a small kiss on the cheek and watched her drive away. I kicked myself all the way home that night, I should have insisted I drive her myself to finish the date up proper. I felt bad and was sure I screwed it up. I didn’t think she would want to see me again and fearing rejection I didn’t want to call her. After about 4 -5 days the phone rang and it was Ruthann. She wanted to tell me how good of a time she had and to thank me for picking up the tab. We talked for a couple of hours that night and ended it up with having another date that very next weekend. On our second date to a 70’s Halloween party she endured meeting my sons Ryan and Adam, my Mom and Dad, a bunch of friends and even my Ex. I even bought her a mood ring. It somehow didn’t seem appropriate but I did it anyway. By the end of the week she wasn’t Ruthann any more she was Rudy to me now. I fell hard for her and quickly learned how special she was. I wasn’t going to call her after our first date because I didn’t know it was Rudy I had met, I didn’t yet realize Rudy was in there hiding behind nervousness and maybe a little awkwardness of a first date. I have spent the last few decades thanking God every day that she saw something in me that night and that she chose to want me to be a part of her life. She has made me a better man and I will always be grateful for the gift I was given. Ruthann lives in my heart and as long as it still beats she will always be with me.”
“Ruthann Margaret Louise Thompson”.
My mother wrote that on a birth certificate and immediately turned to my father and said, “Gee, that’s a mouthful to give a little girl, isn’t it?”
But my mother chose those names to honour people that she loved. Ruthann for Ruth, her mother. Louise for her beloved Aunt Lou. And Margaret for her other beloved Aunt Ollie—actually choosing Aunt Ollie’s middle name because Mum thought the name “Olive” sounded a little too old fashioned for her little girl. She chose the names of these people that she loved so that they would live on long after they were gone.
Ruthann. Aunt Rudy. Rudy. Even RA to some. But what’s in a name? Let me come back to that.
Anyone who knew Ruthann knew that summers up at Sauble Beach were a big part of our childhood. Every year, our mother’s boss would lay her off as soon as we were done school, and then Mum would load up the Buick with groceries and swimsuits, towels and my Grandmother, and with me, my little sister, and our dog Bullet crammed in the back, we’d head off to Sauble Beach.
Now Dad had to stay back in London to work, but he would drive up, right after they closed up the shop every Saturday night, and Ruthann and I would patiently sit on the split rail fence out front of the cottage and stare down the road, asking each other, “Is that him?” every time we saw headlights coming down the old gravel road towards us, disappointed every time the car kept driving right on past. And then Dad, after enjoying the weekend with us at the beach, would get up extra early every Tuesday morning to head back to London to arrive at the barber shop just in time for opening.
Sure, there were some other kids around at Sauble to play with, but often, it was just me and my little sister—running down to the water every morning, fingers-crossed that there would be waves to play in. Just the two of us building sandcastles with seagull feather flagpoles and huge moats that one of us would inevitably get buried in by the end of our day at the beach. And after dinner it was just the two of us trying to finagle a quarter out of Mum or Grandma Ha-Ha for the trampolines up at the “corner”. You see, when you spend every summer away from home and your friends and the kids you go to school with, your only sibling becomes your closest friend. And I have no idea how I got so lucky that Ruthann was that sibling for me; that life-long friend.
Now, Mum’s job at the time was working as a cashier at Taco’s Coin Laundry and Drycleaner in London. Because of this, she was able to get me my first part-time job there, washing the windows, filling the soap dispensers, and emptying the dryer lint traps. Sure, it wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but it was always very exciting whenever I found a bit of change in the dryer lint—because I was allowed to keep it! But one day I was totally shocked to find a man’s gold ring in one of the dryers, and then doubly surprised to find a woman’s gold ring in the one right next to it. Of course, I knew I couldn’t keep them, so I handed them over to my mother, who then handed them to her boss. But when several weeks passed and no one came to claim them, Mr. Vandervloet said I could keep them. And being a kid with no need for two gold rings, I kept the more manly one and gave the ladies’ ring to my sister Ruthann.
Now, this was a very long time ago, some time in the 1970s, so you can imagine my surprise when, just a few weeks ago, as Ruthann was bossing me around in her house and wanting to go through some of her things—telling me what to do with this or that—she opened up a jewelry box and handed me that ladies’ gold ring from the laundromat lint trap.
Everywhere she has lived over the years, through four cities, three dogs, two careers, and one Dan, Ruthann quietly carried that gold ring with her. Not a packrat or a terribly sentimental person when it came to “objects”, she nonetheless held on to the little gold ring that I had given her when we were kids.
Because that’s who Ruthann was: the heart of our family, the memory-keeper, the one who carried more than you ever knew.
Blood-donor, animal-lover, the first to contribute to a Go Fund Me or charity event, from working with troubled youth in open custody to her healing touch as a massage therapist, Ruthann’s heart was always on full display.
She was our memory-keeper in a special way: not only could Ruthann tell you everyone’s birthday or anniversary, she remembered that your son was waiting to hear about university admissions or your mother needed a hip replacement, and she would ask you about it, and more importantly she would care about the answer.
Care. And when it came to the care of our parents, she would come home from her full-time job and she would put in a second shift with them; caring for Mum in their home as long as possible before memory loss forced her into long term care, with Ruthann visiting her basically daily to make sure Mum was always doing okay. After Mum’s passing, Ruthann would again come home from her full-time job to put in a second shift caring for our Dad as his failing health required more and more of her time and energy.
And Ruthann complained about none of it; it’s what she was more than willing to do for the Mum who would take her to the beach for the summer and for the Dad who would drive in the dark to meet them there, who would leave three hours before his shift at the barber shop started on a Tuesday morning, not wanting to miss one minute with his family.
The heart of our family, the memory-keeper, the carrier; how do we learn to live with so great a loss?
You know, when I was writing this, I couldn’t actually remember the name of my Mum’s boss, the owner of Taco’s Coin Laundry. But the internet remembered. Just a quick AI Google search and there it was: Taco Vandervloet. I don’t know how many people alive right now remember Taco and his small coin laundry empire in West London in the 1970s, but the internet remembers. And I got thinking that if I were to write the name Ruthann Margaret Louise Thompson and publish this to the internet along with some of her best qualities, my dear sister—who was taken far too young—might have a kind of immortality. At least virtually. But as I look at all of you gathered here today, I know for a fact that Ruthann will enjoy a more genuinely human type of immortality.
I know for example as I look at our first-born, Kennedy Ruthann, that she will carry her beloved Aunt Rudy with her for the rest of her life. And: sorry, Mal, that we didn’t give you a piece of Aunt Rudy, too, but I also know that you, like everyone gathered here today who has experienced my sister’s gifts in life, as the heart of every gathering, the memory-keeper who made you feel seen, or the carrier who wordlessly eased the burdens of others, that you will hold her memory in your heart, and I hope, continue to be inspired by her giving example for years to come.
And if we all do this, I think that Ruthann will enjoy a well-deserved immortality in our memories as long as we are all alive.
Ruthann, Aunt Rudy, Rudy, even RA to some.
My little sister, my first friend, gone to join all those who went before us; never to be forgotten.
