When Kindness Becomes a Legacy: Five life lessons from Kelly Walker

It was the most perfect dinner party.

We invited a mix of new friends. Ten of us getting to know each other as we dove into a proper McIntosh Farm’s Sunday prime rib roast beef. The house was full of warmth and vibrant conversation.

In our house, the kids all grew up knowing that if you played piano after dinner, you did not have to clean the kitchen. The most generous performer in our family is Shannon. She frequently picks a new piece on Sunday afternoon to share. That night was no exception. After dessert Shannon asked if we would like to hear a song. The response was unanimous. Of course!

What Shannon did not know at the time was that our dinner party consisted of several accomplished performers. A well-known actor, a cellist from the symphony and Kelly Walker – so Stratford!

An accomplished and generous musician himself, Kelly was beaming as Shannon played. At one point I saw Kelly’s husband Ray lean over and whisper, will you play? And Kelly just smiled with that abundant and so full of love twinkle in his eye and said: “I’m just enjoying this right now.”

Shannon played another piece and then it was Kelly’s turn. I had brought a song from Church that I loved and we all sang together – “One more step, we’ll take just one more step….”. We all muddled through it. Then Kelly was off – filling the house with music on my old “Honky Tonky” piano. The racy funny songs came first and then he dove into his love songs. All written for beloved Ray. There were tears. It really was magical. I’m sure many of you who have been lucky enough to know Kelly longer than me have had similar nights.

The next time I saw Kelly at the symphony, I got one of his big much cherished bear hugs and he said so warmly: "Wasn't it just wonderful the other night, all of us singing together?"  It WAS wonderful.

Nothing about Kelly ever felt performative. When he was talking to me, I always felt like I was the only person he knew in all the world. He was deeply curious and interested in how my family and I REALLY were doing and he never looked over my shoulder to see who else might be there. What a great example for us all.

Over the past 18 months my husband Rob, a few of our kids and Kelly and Ray have had a few more gatherings –  but not nearly enough. Professionally, we both dedicated our lives to helping people through transitions. Kelly wrote three books on subjects that I also write and talk about. We connected on that and I devoured his books.

Never one to make you feel small or silly, he thought it was marvellous that THIS 57-year-old has taken three years to struggle through grade ONE piano! I’m muddling through Silent Night right now with him on my shoulder.

When Kelly collapsed and died during a concert last Saturday night shockwaves rippled through this small town. Such a gargantuan presence gone in such a surprising and public way. I’m so sorry for all those who were there to witness such an unexpected and tragic event.

Kelly Walker

In his book, Dancing on the Ark, facing change in uncertain times, Kelly wrote about his uncle Jack Moore who danced well into old age as one of his heroes. Kelly wrote: “He and Aunt Win went dancing every week until they were very very old. He died living! What a legacy!” Well Kelly certainly died living, doing something he loved, sharing his talent, his heart and his soul.

I don’t want to intrude on the grief of so very many people who knew him so much longer than I have. We were just brand-new friends. However, I believe people come into your life for a purpose. I’ve spent the last two days crying and rereading Kelly’s books. And through his words Kelly has provided a great deal of comfort.

Here are just a few things I have learned from our brief friendship and his writing:

1. Find Your Heroes

We all have guides in this life. People older, wiser, who champion you and believe in you. People who set a good example that you want to emulate. In his book Kelly calls these people “Noah’s”. Like Noah and the ark. A humble, wise, resilient guide. A few of Kelly’s “Noah’s” were his father, Leonard Schuett, his uncle James Morgan, a “zany” woman named Dorothy Day and many others that he writes about.

The Noah of his that I found most inspiring is a woman named Regina who lived a life of abuse at the hands of her father, brothers and then her husband. But she clawed her way out, got a degree and became “strong, confident and free.” She raised her children and broke the cycle. Kelly writes:

“That is how it is done. Regina had become a Noah. She served him (her son) fuel for the many transitions he would have to face in the years ahead. She gave him energy and hope because of her own journey and then supplied him with further resources so he could figure out his way. Isn’t that all we can do? Light the torch and pass it on. Then hope.” – Kelly Walker

Kelly was light and he shared it to lift and inspire others. We can try to do the same.

2.      Dance to the beat of my own drum. I AM enough

“It took me longer to realize that I didn't have to be part of anything, to be who I was to be - for my own pleasure and for the good of the world. I had limited myself by not exercising my imagination or my power I slipped into other people's paths as being the only legitimate ones for me.” – Kelly Walker

New to my community and small town with such a vibrant social scene it is easy to slip into trying to turn yourself into a pretzel to fit in. I need to follow my own path. This is who I am. I shall try not to waver. I will attract and form friendships with people who share my values. We can all forge our own path.

3.      We are all a work in progress.

“I would hate to think that people would feel they should come to someone for help who was all done! I would rather seek counsel from someone I was certain was still working on his or her own life. To be all done is likely to be dead!” – Kelly Walker

I tell my clients all the time that we are constantly evolving and becoming the best next version of ourselves. Goodness knows the girl, mother and woman I was 30, 20 and 10 years ago is not who I am today.

We can call on more compassion and grace for ourselves and others as we continue to evolve and grow.

4.      Darkness and solitude have purpose

“Remember, it is in the dead of winter that the roots of the tree prepare for springtime.” -Kelly Walker

Times are dark right now. Especially here in Stratford. A giant hole has been left with the passing of Kelly. In his book Kelly encourages us to retreat, reflect, reconnect with ourselves and each other. Take a beat. Stop the hustle and breath, hug and take solace in the company of people you love.

Twice I have had breakdowns that reorganized my life and career – just like Kelly writes of. There is no shame in losing your way. I always emerge stronger and renewed when I honour the dark times. And yet, during it, I always feel like the world’s biggest failure.

Kelly’s kind words help us see that these times of solitude and darkness serve a great purpose. The light will return. We just need to be patient.

5.      I can be “EVERYTHING”

“I asked a little girl what she wants to be when she grows up. She ventured inside herself, wrinkled her brow, then threw up her head in the air and proclaimed in a loud voice, EVERYTHING!” – Kelly Walker

Sometimes I feel my desire to be “everything” is too ambitious. I hear my mother telling me to stay “humble” and then I become small. Through his writing Kelly provided us with encouragement to live a full beautiful life. It’s ok to want to be “everything”.

I am so sorry for your loss

Reading his books this weekend was an incredibly cathartic experience. It was like he was here, helping me to figure out how to live in a world without out him. And that sentence even seems kind of silly given the fact that we met at the symphony as chatty seat mates just 18 short months ago.

Kelly’s superpower was making you feel like you were the most important person in the room. He made you feel extremely special. And you ARE. It was real. Kelly led with immense love for all people.

To everyone in Stratford and beyond who loved him for so much longer and had a lifetime of Thanksgivings and dinner parties with remarkable conversations and music, I am so very, very sorry for your loss.

Perhaps Kelly’s warmth and love for humanity can live on in all of us. Or at least we can try.

Let’s take care of each other and lead with love. Like Kelly did.

Peace,

Kimberley