The normal Sunday service was held at our church in Cundy’s Harbor that day. The only aspect of it that suggested this was not a normal Sunday was that it started an hour earlier than usual. Our pastor made certain that those of the congregation who wished to be on Bailey Island at 11:30 would be able to do so. After all, that day’s event on “The Rock” would draw people from all over town and then some. Rain or no rain, a crowd was a certainty.
It was a damp, gray day in late August when close to 500 people gathered in the late morning rain to say farewell and Godspeed to one of their own. From as far away as New Zealand they came. Every relation, by blood and by choice, friends, co-workers, casual acquaintances and lost loves, drinking buddies and blood brothers, they all came to share their grief and their love of one unique man. Many would describe him as a huge heart wrapped in an even bigger body built for passing out warm bear hugs and tossing beer kegs farther than anyone else. Wes Gagne was, by far, my biggest nephew in many ways.
The small cemetery on Bailey Island was nearly covered by the crowd that huddled together for closeness and protection from the elements. Rain dripped freely from umbrellas and down cheeks as some struggled to hear through the crowd what was being said and others, closer to the speaker, both heard and felt the message. Several large awnings had been erected over nearly 130 folding chairs provided for the family and those for whom standing for the service would be difficult or impossible.
Cindy Baumgartner delivered a sensitive, personalized service, which concluded with an accomplished bagpiper in full Highland dress playing a stirring rendition of “Amazing Grace.” After the service, hundreds of mourners filed by the site to bid their goodbyes. One by one, handfuls of dirt and single pink roses were dropped onto the urn as the wet grass provided a satisfactory washing station for those with muddy hands.
People caught up with friends and relatives unseen for months or longer in the fast pace of life in the modern world. There were hugs and handshakes, joy and sadness shared in the rain before making the short walk or drive to Library Hall for refreshments and snacks. A number of folks stayed behind to load trucks with chairs and other items that would be returned to their owners. At the same time, there was the business of tidying up the site, replacing turf, and quietly staring at the ground where the remains of a young father had been placed just moments earlier.
It was there at Library Hall that the size of the crowd was most apparent. Approaching the hall, we saw cars parked along both sides of the road from BIGS to Mackerel Cove and beyond. Many people gathered in the field before the hall and a large number in the driveway. The front lawn was packed, the back lawn full, and inside there didn’t appear to be room for even one more human. The line to sign the guest book had no end, and it was possible to spend hours there without seeing all who were present.
The extraordinary outpouring of support was not unexpected. Wesley’s lineage and connection to this town go back centuries, not merely a few generations, and his loss is keenly felt by a great number of people, not because of his ancestry, but because of who he was to so many. In addition to the loss felt by his parents and immediate family, Harper, his 6-year old daughter, suffers the greatest loss while not yet knowing its magnitude. A trust fund is being created for her. Contributions to the Harper Gagne Trust can be sent in care of Wayne Gagne, 6 Wildberry Hollow, Orr’s Island, ME 04066.
Wes’ roots here run as deep as the ledges. It is as fitting as it is sad that he rests upon them.
