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VAUGHAN, Joan Pamela - 1952-2009 - Passed away at her residence, North Bay, Monday, October 19, 2009, beloved wife of Dr. Ed Vaughan in her 58th year. Joan and Ed met in Red Lake, Ontario, in 1974 and moved to her lakefront home in North Bay in 1977. There their children Brad, Melanie and Erin, all delivered by Ed, made their lives complete. There was no greater loving mother. Joan was the loved daughter of Malcolm and Isabelle Wilding and dear sister of Ian and Douglas Wilding. Joan embraced the outdoors; skiing, snowshoeing, swimming, etc. She was an avid gardener and traveler. She made wonderful crafts and folk art. She loved her circle of friends and the happy times they spent together. Three years ago, Joan built her dream home on Viceroy Road, Trout Lake. She loved being outside with nature and wildlife, sitting on the rocks by the lake listening to the wind in the pine needles. This was her place of beauty, her utopia. Funeral arrangements under the direction of McGUINTY FUNERAL HOME. No visitation and no funeral. Cremation at Forest Lawn Cemetery and Crematorium. As expressions of sympathy, donations to environmental concerns would be gratefully appreciated by the family. Special thanks to Dr. P. Cano, Dr. I. Cowan and the staff of the VON. SignGuestBook/Condolences/Donations www.mcguintyfuneralhome.com NO MORE TIME No more time for a guardian angel to embrace this land. No more your unwearied love, your gift of joy and caring. No more memories to brighten the day. No more a gentle soul. Gone the time to enrich your family and friends. Gone the time to leave the world a better place. You were my North and South, My East and West... My everything. No day will pass without your presence in the miracle of nature. Your spirit endures in your home and land. I will wander lonely in our place of beauty. When my work is done we will be together forever. Ed If I be the first to die, Let grief not blacken long tour sky. Be bold yet modest in your grieving. There is a change but not a leaving. For just as death is part of life, The dead live on forever in the living. And all the gathered riches of our journey, The moments shared, the mysteries explored, The steady layers of intimacy stored, The things that make us laugh or weep or sing, The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring, The wordless language of look and touch, The knowing, Each giving and each taking, These are not flowers that fade, Nor trees that fall and crumble, Nor are they stone, For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand. What we were, we are. What we had, we have. A conjoined past imperishably present. So when you walk the woods where once we walked together And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow, Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land, And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand, And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you, Be still. Close your eyes. Breathe, Listen for my footfall in your heart, I am not gone but merely walk within you. To all my friends and family Joan