Robert James “Bob” Bournique, 81, died Tuesday, June 27 due to Alzheimer's disease, after living a very full life. He was born on November 16, 1935 in Butler, Pennsylvania, the 6th child of Louis and Frances Bournique. As a young man, he served as a Navy pilot flying off the carrier USS Independence. He survived ejecting from his plane over the Mediterranean Sea in December 1960 when his engine quit and his parachute failed to open. After six years in the Navy, he completed a degree in Industrial Engineering at the University of Cincinnati. Then, after some years as a commercial pilot selling Piper airplanes, Bob became an FBI agent serving in Boston, Detroit (where he was part of the team working on the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa), and Marquette, Michigan.
It was in Marquette that he met and married his wife Caryl. In their 31 years of marriage, they opened their own home as a homeless shelter for five years, and adopted two children from Colombia, South America. Bob was a lector, eucharistic minister and 7th grade religion teacher at St. Michael's Church. In 1986 he completed the diocesan lay ministry training and became a pastoral associate at St. Mary's Church in Big Bay, MI where he was a monthly homilist. He volunteered at the Marquette Branch Prison and at the St. Vincent de Paul food pantry. His activism with the Marquette peace community eventually led to his resigning from the FBI for reasons of conscience. His final career path was as a licensed practical nurse for ten years, the occupation that he enjoyed most.
Bob was a lover of the outdoors. He hiked, biked, skied, snowshoed, camped, canoed and fished. He shared all these passions with his wife and family. Bob was also an excellent cook, famous among family and friends for his home-made pasta and pizza. His greatest passion, though, was loving and serving others. Numerous people were blessed by his generosity. His quiet personality was rooted in a deeply reflective and spiritual outlook that made him quick to respond to others' needs. His spiritual path included daily meditation both at home and at the Lake Superior Zendo. He often remarked that his prayer was "to become a better lover." Those who knew him described Bob as gentle, reflective, dedicated, sweet, and kind. At his last residence, Taos Retirement Village Medical Center, he was known for his bright smile.
Bob's greatest joy was his marriage to Caryl and their life together, especially becoming parents and then grandparents. He delighted in time spent with family and always made that his priority. It was in order to be part of the lives of their grandchildren that he and Caryl moved from Marquette, MI to Taos, NM in April 2011, shortly after receiving the diagnosis of Alzheimer's disease.
Bob was preceded in death by his parents, two older sisters (Mary Lou Campbell and Virginia Thompson), a younger sister (Frances Gay), and both his brothers (Louis and Jacque). He is survived by his wife Caryl of El Prado, NM; son Fabio of Marquette, MI; daughter Esperanza of El Prado and three grandchildren—Frankie, Hope and David--each of whom brought joy to his heart and smiles to his face. He is also survived by three sisters: Ann Bykowski of Red Hill, Pennsylvania; Barbara Richards of Lake Wales, Florida; and Bette Bournique of Costa Mesa, California, as well as by 14 in-laws who consider him a brother; numerous nieces, nephews,great nieces, great nephews; and countless friends.
Celebrations of Bob's life will be arranged in the coming weeks.
Thursday, June 29, 2017
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
A Collage for Bob's 70th
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Shocked and Disbelieving
Today, at about 2:50 pm, surrounded by family and friends, Bob died in my arms. Tonight I walk about the house knowing it's true but disbelieving. Memories rush over me. I almost hear the slap of his slipper on the tile floor. I see him bent over, tugging on his shoes. His smiling eyes gaze at me across the table. How I wish it were still true.
Monday, June 26, 2017
Love, Light our Way
Late last week, Bob developed two infections. Over the weekend, he struggled mightily and has responded somewhat to a course of antibiotics. But the respiratory infection (and/or possibly lung cancer) is still causing him a great deal of discomfort, especially from hard, tortuous coughing. He has eaten very little the past several days, and can barely take the smallest sips of water. He rallied a little bit today, and was mostly awake during the several hours of our grandson Frankie's visit. He even managed to get up in the wheelchair for a couple of hours, to cruise around the facility for about 20 minutes, and to eat half a bowl of chocolate ice cream. But then he wound down and slept fitfully the rest of the afternoon. Pain medication finally helped relax him around 6:00 p.m. The time is upon us to make him as comfortable as possible and to celebrate in his hearing all the love and joy he has brought into our lives as well as the love with which we surround him.
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Questions with No Answers
How did this happen? How could it be that Bob walked into the nursing center with me last Monday, and now needs the assistance of 2-3 people to get in and out of bed or the wheelchair, or to use the bathroom? His hospice nurse said to me a few days ago that she was so sorry, that had she realized this would happen she never would have recommended I take advantage of the 5-day respite. I could only tell her what I keep telling myself: We can't second-guess ourselves. All of this could have been on the verge of happening and may have occurred when he and I were home alone. And I believe that. Still, I can't help wondering did this hasten his losses (which are inevitable in this disease) or did his placement on Monday save us from having some sort of "catastrophe" happen at home? We can't know the answer, and in a way, it doesn't really seem to matter now. What does matter now is that he needs me more today than at any time in our almost-31-years of marriage, and that the loving bond we have is strong enough to hold us both through whatever lies ahead.
Saturday, June 17, 2017
A Glimmer of Light
This morning I was given a glimmer of light in the bleakness of this past week. It's something to hope and pray for, and will be close to a miracle if it occurs. I was speaking with Jenny, the administrator of the Retirement Village where Bob is. I had called her to see what I need to do to make the transition from his being in respite (which ended at 11 am this morning) under the auspices of hospice and Medicare, into an ongoing and indefinite stay under "private pay." My thought was that perhaps a few more weeks, or a month, would give me time to sort out my options more carefully without feeling like I was under so much pressure.
Jenny told me that last night, until 12:30 p.m., she and Kip (director of nursing) and Sarah (business manager) had met together about how they might approach the VA for either a one-time contract to take care of Bob, or becoming a VA contracted facility for northern New Mexico (currently there are none in northern NM). I was pleasantly and humbly amazed and flabbergasted that these three people whom we hardly know have cared so much about us that they would give up an entire evening, literally working late into the night to try to help us be able to stay here in Taos.
Of course, they still have a lot of "leg work" to do, beginning Monday (although a staff member was already dispatched to the local VA clinic this past week with the mission of obtaining the proper contact information for this group to initiate their plan.) And, of course, the VA may not end up collaborating in this attempt. But the fact that these three are even working on this means more to me than I can say. There are good people. There is compassion. There are angels. May their kind and dedicated hearts be rewarded with success, on our behalf, and on behalf of all the vets in this area.
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