January 21, 2010 is a date which will live forever in my heart…not because it is the day I got my first contract, or I met a special friend, or when I brought my German Shepherd home…but because my father, E. Max Hyatt, died.
He’d been suffering from Unstable Angina for about two weeks. And no, he wasn’t in the hospital. He didn’t like doctors and hospitals—not that I can blame him—he wanted to be with those he loved—his family.

I think the saddest thing of all, is he knew he was dying. For over a year he’d been trying to prepare me, saying things like “I’m not going to be around forever” and “You’ll have to take over when I’m gone.” Near the end, he told me point blank that something was trying to kill him inside. But I just didn’t believe it.

As children, we tend to think our fathers are invincible…and why not? They carry you on their shoulder when you’re little. They are so tall and proud when you do good, and a thunderstorm when you’re bad. A father’s respect is earned…not given unconditionally. They have a kind of wisdom not to be found anywhere else…and they seem to be able to take care any situation which might arise.

I too thought my father was invincible…he’d always been there for me through the good times and the bad. Why wouldn’t he be around for another twenty or forty years?

Around 6pm that night, my father called me into the living room. I knew he wasn’t doing well, he’d been very weak all day, barely able to move from the living room to the bed room without it costing him chest pain (in our tiny house). But still...

He told me to call the ambulance or he was going to die this night. I began to cry and so did he. We hugged each other. I asked him if he was sure, because I knew the VERY last thing he wanted was to go to a hospital and die among strangers. He told me to call.

So I did.

Strangely, I do not remember my thoughts as we waited, I think I was trying really hard keep strong and not fall apart when my father needed me most. The local Fire Department came first, two really great guys who I cannot thank enough for the way they treated my father, who was so very scared. Giving him the care, understanding and dignity he deserved. I thank them from the bottom of my heart for being there for us.

Then the ambulance came. Unfortunately, at the time, the ambulance drivers were on strike, and I don’t know if this is the cause for it, but I found the paramedics to be rude and cold as ice. I was so upset with them (and still am) for the way they treated my Dad, but of course I didn’t say anything, because my Dad came first!


I remember watching them as they helped him out of the house and down the stairs so he could get on the gurney. The way they strapped him in, jerking hard on the belts, it was like they were treating him like a piece of meat! I’ll never forget the scared look in my father’s eyes as he lay there at their mercy. Seeing this, I reached out and squeezed his slippered toe. He looked up at me, as if coming back to himself, and nodded. He knew I was there, that there was someone in this group of strangers who loved him…at least, I hope that’s what he was thinking.

I watched as they wheeled him to the ambulance and put him inside…

The doors closed.

And the ambulance drove away.

That was the last time I saw my father alive.

I cannot begin to describe how helpless I felt, how angry that I could not go with him. I had to stay behind to look after my dog (who’s never been alone) and the cats and the house…

But I let strangers take my father away, I didn’t go with him…it is a regret I will live with for the rest of my life...

Of course I called my mother, who left work and drove to the hospital many miles away. I will not bore you with the endless phone calls, the countless hours I paced waiting for my father to come home, waiting for my mother to tell me ev

E.B. “Max” Hyatt
1948-2010

It is with great sorrow that we announce the death of E. Max Hyatt, born September 5, 1948 in Lynwood, California. Max passed away suddenly on the night of January 21, 2010 at NRH. He is survived by his wife, Janice, and his daughter, Ingela F. Hyatt, as well as four cats, a giant German Shepherd and a plethora of fish—all who love him very much.


After serving four years in the Vietnam War, Max came to Canada, where he met his future wife, Janice, in 1970 in Toronto, Ontario. Having a passion for life and a zeal for knowledge, Max dragged his family all over Canada—living in a great many places—before finally settling in the mid-Vancouver Island area in 1983. It was not long after that he and his wife became the managers of Surfside RV Park—a renowned party park at the time—turning Surfside around and making it a family campground with a good reputation. During this time, he opened up California Care Car—a car detailing business—and was looking into investment opportunities. However, at the age of 40, he suffered a heart attack, which led to Max's semi-retirement and his new job—taxing his daughter around town.


On January 25, 2008, Max suffered a stroke which left him partly paralyzed on the right side of his body. Though he eventually had an 90% recovery, he continuously struggled with the various medical conditions which were caused by the stroke. But Max was a fighter, right up to the end.


Though a man of great wisdom—and often suffered for it—E. Max Hyatt lived life to the fullest...and will be greatly missed by family and friends.



All undone is no one though at
death's door he lie: some with good
sons are blessed, and some with kinsmen, or with
coffers full, and some with deeds well-done.

--Havamal

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