THE LIGHT OF MARGARET ANNE DEMPSEY (A SHORT STORY)

Miles Patrick Yohnke
Apr 9
54 min read

Updated: 2 hours ago

By Miles Patrick Yohnke

"They say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time."- Banksy

In Loving Memory of Margaret Anne Dempsey (September 28, 1963 - August 8, 1988)

On Friday, August 8, 2025, I wrote a birthday letter to CTV Saskatoon reporter Stacey Hein, as she mentioned on-air the week before when filling in for Jeff Rogstad that it would be her birthday on that day.

I wrote to Stacey Hein that I'd never forget her birthday, as it coincides with an event in my life. And I told her the story. And how, I would like to tell you the story.

It was early afternoon, Wednesday, August 3, 1988, I was managing a stereo store in Saskatoon Saskatchewan called: "The Harmony Centre" and in came a female much my age. I was twenty-four at the time. I thought perhaps she was a year younger than me. She said: "I'd like to look at car stereos." I told her: "Great, we have them in our basement." And as we walked downstairs, she told me: "I'm just kicking tires. I just want to DREAM!" Thirty-seven years later, I can still hear her voice. How she phrased it. I can hear all the hope that resided within her.

I told her that was fine. I had the time. Up on the wall was this 4' x 6' picture of a new BMW M3 vehicle.

She said: "Oh, it would be nice to have a BMW."

I told her I had two BMWs. And it so happened both were in our two-bay garage out back. Would she like to go see them? "Would I," she said. And we went out back. And I showed her. One, my prize BMW had a $10,000 dollar stereo in it.

I never turned it on. Nor did either of us get in either car. We both stood in that two-bay garage, next to the BMWs for nearly two hours. I cannot remember any of the conversation--as her cascading light--much like God's own light deafened the dialogue. I do remember her saying she had accepted a teaching position in Red Deer Alberta for September, and that she was volunteering that summer at Hastings Lake Bible Camp near Edmonton Alberta. That she was headed back there in a few days.

She said: "I guess I should go. This was very nice." I told her the same. That this was lovely. And she was on her way. She left the store the same way she came in.

The following Wednesday, August 10, 1988, I was going through The Saskatoon StarPhoenix newspaper, and to my harrowing surprise I came upon her beautiful face in the obituary section. She was killed in a car accident on August 8, 1988 (8.8.88). I would come to learn the name of this illuminating light - Margaret Anne Dempsey.

I kept her obituary. And 8.8.88 has been lodged in my memory ever since.

Time passed, sadly, I lost her obituary, and over time I forgot her name, and I too kind of forgot what she looked like. But I never forgot how in pure wonder she said: "I'm just kicking tires. I just want to DREAM!" I never forgot the feeling she gave me in that concrete two-bay garage.

After sending Stacey Hein her birthday letter, I thought of my friend Terry Hoknes, that he had access to The Saskatoon StarPhoenix archives. I reached out to Terry if he could find me her obituary. And within an hour I had it. And it crushed me like it did thirty-seven years before. "Yes, Margaret Anne Dempsey. Yes, that's how she looked," I thought.

I just stared at it for some time. One reflects, as one does. Of then. The time that has passed.

We didn't have internet back then. And now I could do a search on her. And I did one. I found her tombstone. Where she rested. Seeing her tombstone, too, rocked my world. You see, she was born thirteen days before me. She was my age. Twenty-four. Her obituary never stated her age or birth. She was a Libra, like me. We were born just thirteen days apart.

I felt sad. She looked like she was buried in the middle of nowhere. And she has been there now for thirty-seven years. I just had to go see her. I just had to bicycle to her to say: "Thank You!" To say: "I've never forgotten about you!"

After August 8, 2025, and this plan of bicycling to her--I reached out to eighty-five-year-old, Murray Smith (yes, I have two Murray Smith's in my life). Murray Smith worked at the very same building Stacey Hein works in from 1968 to 1978, but on the radio side, Murray Smith was the early afternoon Disc Jockey for CFQC-600 Radio AM.

Murray Smith, who walks without any mobility aids enjoys looking into the ancestry of people. And I wrote down: "Margaret Anne Dempsey" and handed it to him. And Murray got busy. Murray found everything on Margaret's parents. Her grandparents, her great grandparents, everything going back hundreds of years. Murray went to many locations tracking all of this information down for me, including the university library, the downtown library here in Saskatoon. We'd get together or he'd phone me all excited like a little kid would with his findings. One of the reasons he walks and talks of a man much younger than a man of eighty-five is that very child-like excitement. Murray Smith makes a choice to live a full day. He never takes a day for granted. He knows full well the blessing of a single day.

I didn't have the information of the accident. For thirty-seven years I didn't know what really happened to Margaret Anne Dempsey. Was it a head-on car accident--as I had envisioned. Or was it a single vehicle roll over. What time of day did it occur? All the obituary stated was near Tofield Alberta. I told Murray that was the information I would like to know the most.

And Murray searched. Murray visited locations without any luck. But Murray will not accept failure. Murray will not rest until the job at hand is completed successfully. And he handed me two documents from June 10 and June 13, 1990, from the Edmonton Journal that had it all (please find them further down on this page). These documents were unsettling, and yet, provided peace to my being.

In the process of Murray finding me all the information I needed I was planning my bicycle trip to her resting spot in Asker cemetery, 27kms (or 18 miles) from Ponoka Alberta. That it would be five days and 1400kms (870 miles) there and back to Saskatoon.

Miles with Trek 800 Mountain bike with saddlebags. Photo by Indigo Brodie

I would leave on August 30 and return on September 3, 2025. I would take my 1990 Trek 800 Mountain bike fitted in the 'Sit-Up and Beg' riding position, with wide, smooth tires and saddlebags. That I'd bring food, warm clothes for evening - as I wouldn't be bringing a sleeping bag nor tent. I'd be sleeping on Mother Earth in the very clothes I was wearing.

I ventured out Labour Day Saturday and got nearly 50kms (30 miles) from Saskatoon when I had a rear flat. I don't know how to repair a flat. Or how to fix or change a tire. I have no mechanical ability. It's just not a skill set I have. And when I try, I just get upset. And I've come to learn to just let go and let someone else with that skill set do it. And I started walking back to Saskatoon. It was still early, very early. I was going to walk and see Kelly Bragg at Doug's Spoke and Sport. They opened at 10 a.m.

Kelly Bragg from Doug's Spoke and Sport with Miles

I had walked 25kms (16 miles) when Jackie, a young female RCMP officer stopped with her large SUV cruiser. "Looks like you need a hand. Where are you going," she said. In the cab of the cruiser, I told her the entire story. I told her all about Margaret Anne Dempsey. Why I was going. "I'm getting goosebumps," Jackie said. We talked about her job. She was originally from Ontario.

After her story, my story to Asker cemetery. I pointed to Cory potash mine, as we passed it. I told her my dad died there. I was five. I then told her about the bullying I faced in elementary school because of my 'Double Deficit Dyslexia' - the worst case of dyslexia. That paid professionals told my mother and I when I was nine that I wouldn't amount to much in life because of the severity of it. That I would always be a retard.

We got to Doug's Spoke and Sport at 8 a.m. (It opens at 10 a.m.) I told her I'd just wait outside. We sat in the cruiser and just talked. I asked her to please bring up yohnke.com and she did. And she had more goosebumps.

Then I told Jackie about the person behind yohnke.com Henry Buitrago. That his father was murdered in Colombia. Shot seven times in his back. That his brother was murdered as well. And that Henry almost experienced the same fate - but escaped. That he, his wife, and two little boys aged four and six came to Canada on April 25, 2007. With no belongings, no jobs, no family members or friends, and they didn't speak English they came to Saskatoon. And besides yohnke.com Henry was now the marketing and communications manager at The Chamber of Commerce here in Saskatoon. Then I pointed, just over there is Henry's wives' business. Jackie said did they have a booth on Canada Day? I said: "Yes!" Jackie said: "I bought a dream catcher." I said Henry's wife is Maritza. Jackie lit up. "YES, Maritza!"

A few years back, I told Maritza: "You don't sell products. You sell your very soul." Jackie said: "Yes, I felt her soul." I said: "We sell an experience." "I'm getting goosebumps again," Jackie said.

In God I Have Put My Trust - Psalm 56:11

God wanted me to have a flat tire. To have that experience with Jackie. Outside of the RCMP cruiser - I thanked her again. I hugged her. And as I did, I told her I loved her. And she said: "What a way to start the day - thank you!"

When Doug's Spoke and Sport opened, Kelly Bragg repaired the tire right away by replacing the tire tube. As he was placing his labour into my bicycle, I told him Margaret Anne Dempsey's story. That I was bicycling 1400kms (870 miles) over five days to visit her tombstone. He was so touched by it all. I said to Kelly: "Would you like to wave the $32 dollar cost. For I have little funds." And he understood and did so. Both Jackie and Kelly really listened. They were present. They were in the moment. Their empathy and compassion were on full display. Both were selfless beings.

Miles wearing his evening attire with his 1987 celeste green Bianchi bicycle

And I was out the door. I was now seven hours behind. Now HOT. A heat warning was in place. I got to the end of Saskatoon to only have another rear flat. I now knew that my saddlebags were far too heavy. I wasn't running over anything to warrant a flat. As I pushed the bike back to Kelly and Doug's Spoke and Sport - I thought I'll go tomorrow. On the 1987 celeste green Bianchi. I'll take the Banjo Brothers backpack - I'll wear that. I'll carry far less food, but I'll manage somehow.

When I got back to Doug's Spoke and Sport, Kelly felt terrible. I told him not to be. It's all good. I told him: "It's got to be the weight." Please just repair it again and I'll just push it home. And once again, Kelly did. Kelly's kindness really helped me through that day of Saturday, August 30th. So too, Jackie's presence. Jackie and Kelly would tell you I was very Zen. Your very Zen because you're drawing from the light of Margaret Anne Dempsey. You can push your bicycle many miles because you have life. You can see nature. You can see everything around you. And you can hear. Hear the crickets. Oh, there were so many crickets.

When I returned home. I started mentally preparing for Sunday, August 31st. I too was trying to figure out all I could bring in my backpack, so it wasn't too heavy. That it wouldn't pull on my neck and hurt my back. I packed and tested it a few times that Saturday. Jackie and Kelly, and their beings, their kindness that they showed gave me strength that they'll fully never know.

In God I Have Put My Trust - Psalm 56:11. I found myself repeating those words. Those words rest on Margaret's grandmother Anne Dempsey's tombstone. I had viewed her tombstone on the internet. And I too hoped to view it in person in the coming days, for she rests in Asker cemetery as well.

Sunday, August 31st came. And like the Saturday before, a heat warning was in place for the day. And I was out my door. And as I bicycled through the silence of Saskatoon--for it was the wee hours of morning - I had a more comfortable feeling within. This August 31st marked six years that my own beloved mother went to be with our Heavenly Father. Of the three bicycles I have, it was the 1987 celeste green Bianchi bicycle that was my mother's favourite. And the celeste green Bianchi is named 'Bridget Rose.' God had aligned me. Like he said, as I bicycled: "Child, I want you to leave this day, on this bicycle. Trust in me. I'll take care of you. I have a plan and an adventure awaiting you. People that you need to meet. And nature that will exalt your very being."

I passed the very same Cory potash mine once again. Look dad, see what your son is trying to do. Like the day before, I was Zen, but this was a little different. I was now on the right bicycle. I was leaving on the right day. And I bicycled strong, free - I was one with self. I was one with God. And I found myself singing in the bicycle saddle: "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine. Oh, this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine." And I knew how to turn that song into a poem for Margaret Anne Dempsey. I wrote the poem you'll find below all in my head as I bicycled down the highway.

As I was nearing Perdue Saskatchewan, I needed to take a 'Nature Break' as they call it in the Tour DeFrance. You can imagine what that is and what I was doing on the side of the highway. It was still the wee hours of day. No traffic. Just crickets and me. And in the distance was the CP railroad tracks. And a sign. A sign with a number to help the conductor navigate the train tracks. The number on the sign was '37.' God made me stop then. Not a mile before. Not a mile after. I'm stopping you here. 37. Thirty-seven years Margaret Anne Dempsey has been here with Me. I once again knew that this Sunday was the day that I was meant to leave.

When I got to the Perdue Co-op (convenience store and gas bar). I got out a pen and paper and wrote out my poem for Margaret Anne Dempsey on the businesses concrete steps that lead to its front door. The Co-op wasn't open yet. That was fine. I hadn't consumed much water in the first 80kms or 50 miles. I too packed a little glass container that would hold a small cup of coffee. I sipped what I brought with me. And I ventured into Biggar Saskatchewan and it's Biggar where my dad was born and raised and my grandparents and relatives rest in their cemetery. That 30kms or 18 miles between Perdue and Biggar is very hilly. And they've gotten the better on me in the past, but I stated in my mind not today. Today I would be my best for Margaret - for she too took this very highway a lot as well.

In Biggar, like almost all places I stopped along the way - I told them the story - why I was bicycling. All were so moved. I always received a free coffee to go. And my two water bottles received the water they drank, not tap water. I bicycled an extra distance to the Biggar cemetery to visit my relatives. I've now done this a few times in recent years. It doesn't get old or lost that you've bicycled 220kms or 137 miles round trip to be with them. It does feel surreal!

And back on the highway I went. Just flying down the highway. I asked God to empower me. To give me the strength. The speed. And He provided. The next town is Landis. The town my dear mother grew up in, I slowed down. I drank in every mile approaching the town. I stopped a few times as I neared it. I just looked at it. I pictured my mother as a child, running, playing, riding her bicycle in this community. It was so appropriate I was viewing it now on this day. This August 31, 2025 - six years with our Heavenly Father, she has been.

My mother was pregnant with me like Margaret Anne Dempsey's mother, Dorothy Dolores Dempsey. Margaret was the only child Dorothy would birth. And this too wasn't lost on my being.

Duane Gerein and Miles. Photo by Jackie Gerein

And I carried on to Wilkie Saskatchewan. I thought I'd look up a dear friend of mine in that town. He grew up in the town over, with my relatives, my dear aunt and cousins in Scott Saskatchewan - Duane Gerein. Duane and I were dear friends in those awkward teenage years. From twelve to fifteen. Duane would come into Saskatoon for a week in the summers and stay with mom and me. And I too would do the same at his folk's place. Both of us were learning the guitar together. Pushing each other. Supporting each other. I hadn't seen Duane since 1979. And when I bicycled out to Scott/Wilkie on May 29 - a round trip of 342kms or 213 miles in a single day. Duane made a beautiful comment on social media. He remembered me. Remembered that it was forty-six years since we last were together. I had to look Duane Gerein up. I had to thank him for it and his life. But he wasn't around. And I bicycled over to a convenience store to get more water. I returned back to Duane's place, just to try one more time before moving on and he was now home. He had returned home with his beautiful wife, Jackie. And we hung out in the backyard. And we spoke and acted like no time had passed. But time had passed. I told Jackie and Duane what I was doing and why. And like everyone else, they were deeply touched. You see, Margaret went to be with our Heavenly Father weeks before Jackie and Duane got married on November 19, 1988. The next year, they had their own daughter, and in 1992 and 1997 two sons. Duane made a career as a funeral director for over thirty years there in Wilkie. Life went on for them, like it did for me. And here we are together in their backyard. It was hard to leave. We hugged. And like Jackie, Kelly, I told them I loved them.

And I was once again off. Now to Scott Saskatchewan just down the highway and to their cemetery. To view my aunt and cousins' tombstones. It was all surreal again. Like it was on May 29, 2025. That you came via bicycle. And here you are being able to be there. To view it all. And it's hard to leave. Once I did, you have to make that 6kms or 4 miles off the highway once again to the main highway. And just 30kms or 18 miles down the highway is Unity Saskatchewan. I've never cycled past this distance from Scott. So, it's all new. All new exciting experiences.

Unity has its own special story. You see, long before I came into the world my mother and father lived in Unity. They had their first son, Kenneth Yohnke. And on their third wedding anniversary, June 6, 1954, they had another son, my older brother Robert 'Bob' Yohnke. As I cycled to Unity I thought of my beautiful mother. They lived in Unity from 1954 to 1956. My mother was twenty-two to twenty-four at that time. Margaret's Anne Dempsey's very age. And as you bicycle. You just reflect on it all. You reflect on your own mother and her whole life ahead of her. Her family. And you reflect on the light of Margaret Anne Dempsey that has brought you here.

In Unity, I stopped at their Co-op which had an A & W joined to it. A & W was my quiet, nurturing mother's favourite place. My mother wasn't into fancy places and such. A & W hit the spot for her. "Umm good...," she'd say, as she took a bite of her French Fry. And on this day, which marked six years that she has been with our Heavenly Father, I thought I'd buy some French Fries. I asked a man, Bob as it turned out, if I could eat with him. "Of course," Bob said. I told Bob the story. I mentioned that Margaret was born on September 28, 1963, and I was born on October 11, 1963. Then Bob told me he was born on October 7, 1963. Indeed, God sure has a plan for us. The people will meet. It was now clear I was meant to leave all along on this day. Bob was a semi driver from Ontario Canada. And where was he going? Yes, Ponoka Alberta to pick up cattle. He was going where I was headed.

And we rejoice in Psalm 56:11 - In God I Have Put My Trust!

From Unity I was headed to Macklin Saskatchewan. About halfway to my final destination. From Unity to Macklin is the worst highway. 60kms or 38 miles of just the worst. Much of it has no shoulder. The pavement is broken up. And it is really slow going. Night had settled in. My lights were now on the bicycle. It was slow and hard navigating down the highway. You're already 220kms or 137 miles into it by this point. And about 20kms or 12 miles an RCMP truck pulls up beside me and rolls down his side window. And Mike, as I would find out later asks: "What are you doing? Where are you going?" We both stopped. There is little traffic by this point on this stillness Sunday night of Labour Day weekend. I tell him. "Why don't you put your bike in the back of the truck. It's far safer." And Mike drove me into Macklin and to the Co-op convenience store and gas bar just before it closed at 11 p.m. - so I could get more water.

I thanked Mike. We had an old-fashion handshake. And we were off. Me inside. Where I came upon two young baseball players, Conner and his friend both nineteen years of age. I asked about the Toronto Blue Jays baseball game. The score. The details. The Blue Jays won. My mother loved her Toronto Blue Jays. And it is this that I follow them. I still keep a score card and write everything in like mother did to honour her.

I told the two young men what I was doing and why. And both lit up like Christmas trees. And you savour their eyes. Their expression. That encounter. As your now headed to find a church, a place to lay your body on the ground to sleep. It didn't take long to find a place, as I bicycled in on the left was the St. Joseph's Health Facility. And behind it is a beautiful park filled with spiritual sculptures. And as I bicycled into the park, I got lost in the darkness of the night and the park - free of anyone knowing I was in there. I locked up my bicycle, my backpack now became my pillow, and I laid on the ground to sleep. I had a hard time settling down. Your heart is racing. You're excited about what you're doing. Where you're trying to reach. About an hour later, to my great surprise, and just like out of a film, their automatic sprinkler system started - getting my chest all wet. I got up. I move my makeshift pillow, my bicycle to an area of grass that the sprinklers weren't reaching and tried to sleep again. It's now cold. All the days but the last one were extremely hot, and the nights were bone chilling cold. I was shivering. Something I would experience a lot over the next four nights. I felt my pant leg, and then my jacket, and all my clothes were damp. Not from the sprinklers. At that point, in the shivering darkness of night - I didn't understand why. I thought this was silly. I couldn't sleep. I might as well get up and start bicycling - take advantage of the time - bicycle to the next town, which was just 20kms away or 12 miles and across the Saskatchewan border into the province of Alberta and the town of Provost. And when I got into the saddle and started to bicycle--I now understood why I was all damp. Fog was setting in but not bad enough to see down the highway. I had no idea of the hour I was in. I had to ask Conner about the score of the Blue Jays game as I don't have a smartphone. Nor a cellphone. Nor a watch. I was going much like our ancestors once did and by the position of the sun in the sky. I found myself not even checking clocks in gas stations and such along the way. I was one with self. One with the day. I was utterly present.

There wasn't a single vehicle nor semi in that distance and I arrived in Provost. I stopped at a bench outside of a business and tried to sleep but without any luck. More shivering. Now the fog was really settling in. I now couldn't even see the highway, though it was just 100 feet away. The business two doors down opened. And I walked in. I told my story to the employee, and the employee that wants to remain anonymous told me to go get myself a sandwich. That the person would cover the cost. And I did. I thanked the person. As it turned out - it took over four hours for the dense fog to lift. It was now after 10 a.m. and day two of my bicycle trip to Asker cemetery.

Miles in Village of Lougheed. Photo by Minesh Bhagat

Day two would be another adventurous one. It would be a heavy day where I would visit Lougheed Alberta, the last place Margaret lived. And the next town over, Sedgewick Alberta, was the last place of paid employment for Margaret, as she taught school at 'Central High Sedgewick Public School' in 1987/1988. And then onto Camrose Alberta where Margaret attended the Canadian Lutheran Bible Institute. It too was where Margaret's funeral was held at - the Messiah Lutheran Church.

Day two started off slow. It took me nearly 40kms or 25 miles to find my catalyst. And then I did, and then I too came into the nicest terrain I've ever bicycled in, even nicer to me than Banff Alberta, Waterton Alberta, etc. It had a high flat terrain, a plateau, if you will. Miles and miles of it. I truly gasped at the wonder of it all. I thought this is what Margaret viewed so much. I was now just flying down the highway. No signs of no sleep. I had asked God for strength - to empower me - and He provided.

It was in this section that I was now getting goosebumps. In some ways I just couldn't believe the beauty I was witnessing. Margaret Anne Dempsey witnessed this so often with her two beautiful eyes. An area like this--no doubt rubs off on your very being. I felt I was in God's country. Nature (God's original temple). The highway has sweeping lefts and rights and hills that you gather so much speed, and yet, the ground, the way it laid out, there aren't many hills to climb. And those small ones you've gathered so much speed that you climb them with ease. There was about 40kms or 25 miles of this. Just the finest bicycling terrain. And then came a sign 'Lougheed - 11kms or 7 miles.' I let out a shout: "MARGARET'S HOME!" I just couldn't believe the terrain she was living in in 1987/1988. And I even picked up more speed. I was just flying down the highway. And as I neared, I slowed down. I wanted to seep it all in. I wanted to see it through Margaret's amazing eyes. On the internet - 'Loughead' is small. Tiny. I had kind of dismissed it in my head before I had started this bicycle trip. But as I approached - Lougheed wasn't anything to dismiss. It was clean. The buildings had character. A lot of character. The little village was hip. I could see why Margaret would want to live here.

103rd Lougheed Agriculture Fair - August 8. Photo by Minesh Bhagat

A mile outside of town read a sign: "103rd Lougheed Agriculture Fair - August 8." It was another sign from God. That I was supposed to make this bicycle adventure to Margaret's tombstone this thirty-seventh year. Not after twenty years. Not next year. But this year. As you know August 8 was the date that sealed her fate. And here was a sign. The community that she last resided at was having their 103rd ag society fair on August 8th. More goosebumps.

August 8, 1988. 8.8.88. In Christianity, the number 8 is symbolically linked to the concept of rebirth and new beginnings. It is associated with the day of Christ's resurrection, which took place on the eighth day, also known as the "eighth day of creation." This connection to renewal and spiritual transformation makes the number 8 a powerful symbol of hope and divine intervention.

As I got into Lougheed I noticed a restaurant right on the highway, Midtown Pizza & Cafe. Its open sign was lit up. Remember, it was Labour Day Monday. I headed in and was greeted by the welcoming smile of Minesh Bhagat. Minesh right away got me the best water. I sat at table. I had to gather myself. Overwhelmed by it all, not to mention I had bicycled some distance. I grabbed a cold coke. Not something I'd normally drink, but it has the highest amounts of sugar. And my body was craving that for balance. And I had a second one in mere minutes. I told Minesh I had a story. When he had time to sit. It was coming upon 6 p.m. and his business was busy with phone-in orders. Making pizzas, etc. But Minesh made the time. And he was really present. He really listened. He listened to a life that lived here thirty-seven years before. Minesh was from India. His family, his ancestors lived there in the time Margaret Anne Dempsey lived in this very village. Minesh told me he lived in British Columbia before. That he still had property there. That he and his beautiful family had lived in Lougheed now a year and a half.

I asked Minesh, if we could get in his vehicle, and go photograph that sign outside of Lougheed. Minesh said: "Sadly, I just don't have the time, I'm busy with supper hour." I understood. But then Minesh grabbed me, and we went out the door. We walked quickly to find a location that had 'Lougheed' on it to state I was there. To document the event. And we found 'The Village of Lougheed' building. And he took a photo of me with it. But then he grabbed me once again, and we walked - looking for a second location. We never found one--but he gave me a quick tour of the village. We were like kids those minutes. Minesh really cared. Cared about what I was doing--and why I was doing it. Back at his restaurant we hugged and said our farewells.

Miles at Central High Sedgewick Public School. Photo by Amy Jackson

6 p.m. Back in the saddle. With me bicycling down the highway towards the city of Camrose. But first the next town - Sedgewick. The town that Margaret taught at -- with her nurturing young minds -- instilling her enormous light that I felt and feel. And as I slowly bicycled by it--I thought of all the times she travelled that 12kms or 8 miles each way from home in Lougheed. There is a heaviness there in the saddle. A physical life that once was. You're trying to seep it all in so deeply. You're trying to see it for her again. Obviously, she can. She still sees it all - but from a heavenly seat. She can feel everything I'm feeling. My thoughts, and too, my emotions. Sedgewick Alberta passed and now onto Camrose. A city that played an enormous impact on her being. Of removing the falseness of self that I felt from her that very day back on August 3, 1988, in The Harmony Centre.

There on the highway, I came upon a sign that read: 'Holden.' It was an alternate route to the community of Holden Alberta. I thought Margaret would have passed that sign many a time. Not knowing that a resident of that community would physically end her life by accidently killing her in a head-on car accident. It was eerie seeing the sign. Thinking of it all. And I had to change what I was thinking about and return to the wonder I was feeling about earlier.

It was now dark. Labour Day Monday. Much traffic. The highway was a good one like it had been all day. You have your lights on the bicycle. You're lit up and well seen. And you can see the road well. But there is that feeling of a flat. Of running over something. But you say: "In God I Have Put My Trust!" Camrose is a city of nearly 19,000 people. It's a large centre. And I thought how am I going to find the Messiah Lutheran Church in all of this, and too, in the dark. I arrived in Camrose. And there always comes the excitement of seeing something new. And again, Camrose meant so much to Margaret Anne Dempsey--and the development of her being.

About halfway through Camrose God told me to stop. To go to the Fas Gas Plus gas station and convenience store. I went into the business. I was greeted by a smiling young man that was originally from Pakistan. I bought myself a litre of chocolate milk to take on some much-needed sugar and protein - to replenish and restore my being. Remember I've been in the saddle for two days without really any sleep and now travelled nearly 600kms or 380 miles. And like everyone else, he was moved by the story of what I was doing and why. I asked him to bring out his smartphone and to please give me the directions to the Messiah Lutheran Church. That I wanted to sleep at it. That it had significant meaning, as on Friday, August 12, 1988, they had Margaret's funeral there. He said, "I don't need to use my smartphone. The Messiah Lutheran Church is just around the corner. Just minutes away." And I couldn't help thinking: "In God I Have Put My Trust!"

911 Temperance Street - Saskatoon - The family home of Margaret Anne Dempsey

And he was right. It was just minutes away. It was so easy to find. But what also grabbed me - the church was much like St. Joseph church out my living room window. And St. Joseph church is the start of our Broadway Avenue filled with hip local merchants. And the Messiah Lutheran Church was the start to Camrose's downtown. Too, filled with hip local merchants. Margaret Anne Dempsey grew up in Saskatoon. She attended Aden Bowman collegiate just blocks away from my apartment. She attended the U of S. Just blocks away from where she grew up at 911 Temperance Street. And 911 Temperance Street is mere blocks from Broadway Avenue. I'm sure Margaret felt at home in Camrose. That it was similar to Saskatoon. I bicycled around the quiet downtown of Camrose before returning to the Messiah Lutheran Church and the entrance to their Sanctuary which would be my sleeping quarters for the night.

The light was still on within the church. Perhaps their cleaning service. I locked up my bicycle. It was up against their concrete wall. Mostly hidden from the main street that leads to their downtown. And I was tucked away behind that very wall. The entrance had carpet. I slept there. My backpack once again becoming a makeshift pillow. And I slept pretty sound. But times waking up cold. Then shivering. Asking God to keep me warm. Or allowing me to sleep through it. And He provided. Morning light came. And I was alive. I have to say the experience of sleeping like that isn't a bad one. There is a feeling of it all that you're really alive. That you're thoroughly partaking in the day like never before. I gathered myself. I bicycled around the downtown once again seeping it all in for Margaret and me.

I then found an A & W not far away. I went in. And I went to the washroom to groom myself. To make myself as presentable as one could in that situation. I was going to treat myself this third morning to an A & W bacon and egg classic breakfast with coffee. I had been donated fifty-four dollars. Forty dollars from the blind, ninety-year-old, Doris Merkosky. And fourteen dollars from another friend. That's all the money I had on this five-day trip. When my order came, I hear the table next to me start talking about the Blue Jays game. I asked them if I could join them. They were a little hesitant. I just stay down without them saying yes and just asked about the game. They lost. "Their bullpen lost it for them," they all said in anger and frustration - these Camrose locals.

This A & W was their morning gathering place. I was now in their space. "That's your bicycle out front?" they asked. I told them that it was. I told them where I came from. What I was doing and why. They laughed. "Your tires look bald," they all said. They weren't. They were new. Smooth. Smooth for a reason - less resistance. They were continental tires. The very same company that made great vehicle tires. All of them just weren't educated on bicycle tires and bicycles in general. They all had an underlying bigotry to them. A racism to them. I told them it was my first time to their city. That it was clean. That Camrose was beautiful. They replied: "You haven't seen all the areas." You could tell they disliked the Indigenous people. The new foreign people. Sadly, all cities, places have this undercurrent. It wasn't like they weren't kind. They simply weren't educated. Often this mindset is passed down from their parents. Their ancestors. Phrases like: "The only good Indian is a dead Indian."

I asked for directions to Ponoka Alberta. Ponoka (meaning elk in Blackfoot) is in a territory that was occupied and stewarded by the Cree people for thousands of years. The colonial settler town of Ponoka originated in 1891 as a waypoint for the railway from Edmonton to Calgary; the town was formally incorporated in 1904.

They told me just to take the road out front. To just follow it as it turned into highway 13 west and then into highway 2A. They told me to be careful not to get scalped in the next city of Wetaskiwin and the next town of Maskwacis. To be really careful there. And they all laughed once again. I thanked them for their time. I wished them all the best. And I was on my way.

Day three in the saddle. And day three hopefully would bring me to Margaret Anne Dempsey's resting place and tombstone in Asker cemetery. It was another beautiful morning. And they were right; it was easy to navigate and get out of Camrose. Outside Camrose to almost Wetaskiwin was road construction - which made it much slower. Just past Wetaskiwin I stopped. I placed my bike up against a lamp post. I stretched and drank some water. I looked to my right and out from nowhere came an Indigenous woman. She was walking down a gravel road towards me. I said: "Hi!" And she said: "Hi," back to me. She said my son and I were just hitchhiking to Calgary but couldn't get a ride. So, we set-up a little encampment in the bush. I placed my arm around her shoulder and said: "I slept outside a church last night. I entirely understand." And we both laughed. We were one. I told her my name. I asked her what her name was. She told me: "Dorothy!" "Of course you are," I said. Dorothy is Margaret's mother's name. I told Dorothy the reason for me being on a bicycle. And God wanted me to stop. For you to come out of the bush. For us to meet. I asked when Dorothy's birthday was: "September 16, 1969." Dorothy asked if I had any water to spare. I told her of course I do. I had two full bottles of water. I just needed one as Maskwacis was just 20kms or 12 miles up the highway. I then walked with her to her encampment. She brought out an empty water bottle and I filled it. We had a big, long hug. As I hugged her, I told her I loved her. And Dorothy said I love you as well. And I was on my way.

I was in Maskwacis in no time. I went to their Fas Gas Plus gas station and convenience store. They had two fantastic young Indigenous employees. I told them what I was doing and why. I grabbed some more water. Outside I removed many layers and down to my cycling shorts with cut-off jeans over top with my red cycling jersey that I have had since 1990. Ray, the Indigenous owner came out and we had a great talk. And I was once again on my way. Next stop, Ponoka Alberta.

It didn't take long and I was in Ponoka. It was early afternoon by the placement of the sun in the sky. My first stop was another Fas Gas Plus gas station and convenience store. And more water. I asked two wonderful people for directions to their Lutheran church. And they said: "Look through those trees. You see the peak of that church? There it is." I thanked them and I was on my way. And by chance the lady that led the parish pulled up. I told her why I was here. What I was doing. She was touched by it all. She asked if I needed a lunch. That they had premade lunches to go. I said that would be wonderful. And I was on my way to find the Asker cemetery. I then stopped at their Petro-Canada gas station and convenience store. I was greeted by a huge-smiling man originally from India. I told him what I was doing and why. He told me that he too bicycled a lot in India. That he did 100kms or 60 miles a day. I asked him for directions to the Asker cemetery. And he brought out his smartphone. It was 27kms or 18 miles straight down the road we were on. Highway 53 east. He then showed me his bicycle that he had in India. A beautiful Surly that would cost about $3000 dollars here in Canada. He showed me many photos of India. All so beautiful. He asked if I wanted a coffee. "That would be lovely," I said. He made a fresh pot of coffee for us. Sometime passed and we hugged and said our goodbyes. We hugged so tight. And for so long. He didn't want to let go. And that would stay with me the coming hours - that connection we created.

I was now on my way, to my final destination: Asker cemetery. The highway was great. It was quiet like much of all of the highways that I had been on to that point. I would come to learn the Asker cemetery was very hard to find. I found the Asker church without too much trouble. But the cemetery wasn't as easy. I asked array of people. No one had heard of it. Finally, I came upon a lady from the area. She told me to follow the paved road the church was on to the end of the pavement. Then to make a left. Follow the gravel road for about a mile. You'll come to a 'T' in the road. Make a right and follow that gravel road. It will lead you up a hill, and on the right, you'll see the Asker cemetery.

The Asker cemetery truly was in the middle of nowhere. I was so grateful to have run into her. For without her - I don't know if I would have found it. Again, God brought her into my life just when I needed it. Now I was on my way. To the end of the paved road. I then pushed my bicycle down the gravel road, as I didn't want to chance a shape stone to create a puncture to one of my bicycle tires. I followed the directions she gave me. I was now walking up the hill. I was kind of in la la land, thinking I'd have to walk much further up this hill, but I looked up, and there it was on my left side. Asker cemetery. Just like it looked on the internet. "I MADE IT. I MADE IT. I MADE IT," I said to myself. I couldn't believe it. Nearly three days. 700kms or 435 miles.

Oh, you can't imagine the feeling. There it was: Asker cemetery. I suppose it was around 4 p.m. from the position of the sun. Hot, but bearable. No wind. Calm. I too was calm. Zen. Entirely in the moment. There is a lever you lift to open the cast-iron gate, the entrance to the cemetery. And what a privilege to be able to do it. I savoured it. I walked my bicycle in, and I closed the gate behind me. Not far away is a small single marble bench. I placed my bicycle up against it. I took my backpack off and placed it nearby. I wasn't in a rush to find Margaret's tombstone. I just slowly looked at everything. The very small cemetery up on the hill. The mere tombstones that rest. A farmyard rested in the valley in the distance. The moos from the many cows. I then sat. I just looked around. I gathered myself. Here I am. Thirty-seven years later. Here I am. I'm so close to Margaret Anne Dempsey once again. And I sat. I reflected on our time. And all the time that had passed. All the August 8ths. And now we are here.

Finally, I went to look for her. And there she was: Margaret Anne Dempsey. I hugged and kissed her tombstone. All of this time. There I am.

The eighty-five-year-old Murray Smith told me before I left, she was where she needed to be - with her ancestors. And I would come to learn he was right. She wasn't in the middle of nowhere. She was where she needed to be.

Margaret Anne Dempsey had removed the falseness of her being when I met her. And because she did, I felt her light which carried me to that day.

Because Margaret Anne Dempsey had removed that falseness of being she was totally present. She was entirely alive. And Margaret Anne Dempsey will always remain alive. And I was dead with my two BMWs back in 1988. I had bought them because of paid professionals telling my mother and me I wouldn't amount to much in life. And I needed to manage a store for self-worth. I needed a BMW for self-worth. And another BMW, as I had to show the world, I had value. But it was a false life.

To my credit. I didn't brush off Margaret Anne Dempsey when she told me she was just kicking tires. I didn't brush her off. I was present. I made the time for her. But there was much falseness of being that I would have to remove after her physical departure. I had her light to show me. I too had God's light.

Margaret Anne Dempsey was one with self. She never boasted about God like many church goers. She had moved past all of that. She was quiet in that manner. She was just one with self. And because she was--she was the purist light. I can still feel it. Isn't that something? And we all need to do that. To align ourselves - to remove that falseness of self.

As I was one in the cemetery I reflected on my first taught of seeing her tombstone on the internet. That she was in the middle of nowhere. That few people would visit her. That she wouldn't be remembered. That her life would be forgotten. That all of this time had passed.

But I came to realize there that too was a lot of 'me.' I came to realize that it didn't matter if anyone visited her. She was where she needed to be. That she had developed her brain. She had developed her being. She had removed that falseness of self. And because she had done all of that she was one with God. She'd never be alone. She'd be remembered eternally by all.

Margaret Anne Dempsey was heaven on earth. I felt in it that first week of August 1988. And I've always felt it. She was an experience. I had the Margaret Anne Dempsey experience.

Tuesday, September 2, 2025, I reached her tombstone via bicycle. Now the Tuesday sun had set. I curled up in front of her tombstone and slept. And Wednesday came. And there I was with her. In front of her tombstone. I didn't sleep much. In between the shivering I thought about everyone that attended her funeral. What the appearance of her coffin may have looked like. That it was below me. I thought of her beloved mother. Her glorious grandmother. I thought of all of her friends. Your grateful to be there. To be allowed there. To be present. To honour her in the best way you can.

And the best way to honour her is being the best version of yourself. Taking the steps, she did. Developing your brain. Removing the falseness of self. Margaret came into the store. But it was clear she didn't need anything. She had it all. She was one with self. It was hard to leave that Wednesday morning, September 3, 2025. I pushed my bicycle to the gate once again. I lifted the lever and opened that cast-iron gate one last time. And I looked one last time. I spent enough time in there to last a lifetime. The cows mooing. The many birds overhead flying south for the winter. It was all there in those precious hours. And how I walked the bicycle down the hill. I was empowered in ways I hadn't been before I entered the Asker cemetery. And finally, I reached highway 53 east.

I started to bicycle down the highway filled with so much. Then I heard a "click, click, click," coming from my front wheel. What was causing that? I stopped and looked. Something from the gravel road had got between my front tire and front fork. I cleaned it out with my apartment key. When it was all clear stopped a truck. Blair, as I would come to learn asked if everything was alright. He was afraid my chain had broken or something. I told him what was going on, and I was fine. He told me he was going to Bashaw, the next town. If I wanted to throw my bicycle in the back of his truck and ride with him. I said: "sure!" In the cab of the truck, I told him the story of why I was on the highway. That I slept in the Asker cemetery. Blair told me what Murray Smith had researched that people from Asker Norway had come to that region of Alberta and called it Asker County. Blair told me his ancestors came there from Norway a hundred and twenty-five years ago, just like Margaret's grandmother's family. I told Blair when Margaret was born, that she was just thirteen days older than me. That she was born on September 28, 1963. And I was born on October 11, 1963. Blair looked at me and said: "I was born on October 12, 1961."

There was a reason I had that material between my tire and front fork. God wanted Blair and I to meet. We got to Bashaw in fifteen minutes. It was 8:22 a.m. (his clock on the dash of his truck told me so). We said our goodbyes, and I bicycled into the Bashaw ESSO and was greeted by a friendly lady named Candy. Candy got me water for my water bottles. I told her the story of my coming to her community. We had a lovely visit, and I was on my way again.

Day 4 was another hot and windless day. And I was once again strong in the saddle. Flying down the highway. But it was different this time. It was all downhill. In the distance everything was downhill. It reminded me of the last time I bicycled to Alberta - 1990. Thirty-five years ago. And that plays on you. Margaret Anne Dempsey had already been physically dead. But what came to light in recent weeks that her court hearings, her final two occurred on the very day I left Alberta for Saskatchewan. I left Lethbridge Alberta on Monday, June 10, 1990. You'll notice below a story from the Edmonton Journal that Murray Smith found with that date. It just took me three days to get home to Saskatoon, June 12, 1990. And the next day, Thursday, June 13th, Ruth Ellen Gibson was acquitted. And here I was now back in Alberta - thirty-five years later via bicycle searching for her resting spot and tombstone. Indeed, God had a plan all along.

I had told Julia Cunningham that 2025 was going to be dedicated to her father Dr. Joseph Patrick Cunningham, who succumbed to cancer three years after Margaret went to be with our Heavenly Father in 1991. That I would do the craziest bicycle rides, just crushing anything I had ever done before in my life for her dad. But I hadn't envisioned what that would look like. And it all came together after a birthday letter to Stacey Hein.

And I turned that crank over on that celeste green Bianchi on that stillness of Wednesday morning of September 3, 2025, as I flied down highway 53 - I came to Donalda, and past Donalda it turns into much like Drumheller Alberta in ways. And I was going down the steepest of hills, and it felt like 'The Secret Life of Walter Mitty' and the skateboard scene. I was just twisting and turning down the highway at the craziest of speeds. It was so beautiful! I was so alive!

I then came into Forestburg, Alberta. It was just past noon. I didn't need a clock. All the kids told me. There is a gas station and convenience store just off the main highway and a school across the street. All the kids were out and many at the convenience store. They were all excited to see me. The bicycle. I told them I had come from Saskatoon. They were all blown away. I told them my age. That I was sixty-one. That I was their grandpa's age. All of their eyes were big like saucers. I told them what I did. Why I was here. They all pulled out their smartphones and bookmarked https://yohnke.com I told them God willing I'll get back to Saskatoon and write: "The Light of Margaret Anne Dempsey" and it would be released to coincide with her birthday on September 28th.

This trip was also turning into a yohnke.com book tour in ways. Each and every one that I was telling this story of my travel too were all bringing up https://yohnke.com I did this as the content is good. The content removes that falseness of being. Margaret was providing this nurturing to all we were encountering.

The kids seen my calves. They said: "They're a lot bigger than the professional hockey player, Conner McDavid." And the kids were right. You see you don't have to be a professional athlete to bicycle. You don't have to be a certain age. The reality, I'm in far better shape now in 2025 then I was in 1990. And it's by choice. Just like the eighty-five-year-old, Murray Smith. He chooses to be active. There is a great old saying: "if you don't use it, you'll lose it."

A bicycle ride at any length isn't a crazy bicycle ride. It's just our prescriptive. I'm just a person like you. If I can ride a bicycle this distance, so can you. Certainly, I understand not all people can. I think of my dear friend, Mike Segal in Houston Texas. Back on February 17, 1981, Mike entered a gas bar in the middle of an armed robbery. And he was shot in the back of his head and left for dead. But Mike Segal survived. And overcame many obstacles to have a fruitful life. So much so that the City of Houston declared February 28, 2008, as 'Mike Segal Day.' Because of that fateful night back in 1981 he doesn't have the use of his one side. Riding a bicycle isn't something he can do. So, I'm sensitive that not all can. But most can and should.

If you don't find time for fitness, you'll find time for illness - there is just no getting around it. Our Healthcare crisis is mostly self-induced by people not taking care of themselves.

It's one thing to watch sports, but it sure is far more enjoyable partaking in your own life. If that be sports at your community gym, activities at the local rec center, or anything else that gets you up and moving. Life is not a spectator sport. It's about getting engrossed in your own life. Not sitting on the sidelines, waiting for opportunity to come grab you by the hand. Not living vicariously through another's life. Vegging out on the couch, eating a triple bypass burger or mindlessly snacking on calorie laden, artery clogging, chemically altered food. Passive. Drinking, even tweeting about it. Spending countless hours on Facebook posting mindless, empty, trivial info about oneself or perusing other's Facebook page to read meaningless information about people you don't even know well. One must ask the questions, did all that posting and reading on Facebook improve my life? Did I learn something new, gain valuable insight, become a more compassionate and caring human being? To live one's best life, one must become engaged to something in their life.

Murray Smith said something to me that went over my head at first. He had to repeat it. He said: "I'll only need a cellphone when I go to prison." What a line isn't it? What a concept. My editor, Indigo Brodie told me to include it in this short story. To expand upon it. Prison cell. Cellphone. You see most live in a self-made prison. Always looking at their smartphone. A smartphone can be of great use and importance. Directions at a blink of an eye. Content like what is found at https://yohnke.com But for most - the content is pretty limiting that they look at. They're not using it to remove the falseness of being. To empower their very self.

When I was with the kids. It was their second day of school. A new calendar year. And I thought of Margaret. She not having the chance to teach in Red Deer. Which isn't that far from where I was in Forestburg Alberta with those beautiful children.

I was off again. Highway 53 is just beautiful. What a day. I then had to make a left at highway 36. And more of the same. Just beautiful! At the town of Killam, I had to turn right. And soon I was approaching Sedgewick Alberta once again. I thought of my hours earlier with the kids of Forestburg. That I should stop into the last school Margaret taught. It was just after 3 p.m. when I arrived. To be allowed in the school Margaret fostered education wasn't something I took lightly. I just pictured her with the children. What a privilege to be there.

In God I Have Put My Trust - Psalm 56:11

Certainly, everything aligned with this trip. There with the children in the new calendar year. Everything I had encountered.

And soon I was back in Lougheed Alberta. All those emotions arose once again. This being Margaret's last place she officially resided. And I was back at Minesh Bhagat's Midtown Pizza & Cafe. Minesh was in Edmonton getting supplies. His son took great care of me. I had the best burger of my life. Prepared by Minesh's wife. As I ate, I taught of Margaret getting supplies for the bible camp in Edmonton. But she never arrived. And I thought of Minesh. Him traveling to Edmonton for supplies. And as you eat you savour it all. Having food made by them. But everything in general.

Before day four started I asked God for wind. Wind on my back. Or no wind. But wind on my back would be nice to push me home. The first two days I rode I was riding in a heat warning. It was hot. But bearable. There was no wind to speak of. It really was paradise in the bicycle saddle. There was no rain. No signs of it. Three days filled with crystal clear blue sky. Threat of rain never crossed my mind.

Day four, like the first three days - I was so strong in the saddle. It was something for I had never really had a proper night of rest. You realize we are capable of enduring so much - if we make the choice to really partake in the day. To really embrace it and live. Day four I found myself saying so often: "I just cannot believe how great this is." I mean it was everything. God's landscape. As your bicycling you're picturing all you've encountered. Their eyes. Their welcoming smiles. The pitch of their voice. Their hugs. You can feel their hugs as you bicycle along the highway.

Much of day four I thought I could get home today. That I'd ride right through the night. Not stop to sleep. I felt so strong. So, one. And like day two - day four I was going through the same terrain - the nicest terrain I've ever encountered. I wasn't just seeing it for myself. But for Margaret Anne Dempsey. I too was seeing it for those like the ninety-year-old blind Doris Merkosky who has been blind since age five. After having a brain tumour. She too has never experienced the carefree wonder of riding a bicycle. Of having the wind go through your hair. Of having the sun upon your asking skin. And you truly ride. You truly slow down your own mind and think about all this as you go. You are so grateful to be out there on the highway. You're so grateful to be alive to feel everything you're feeling.

As I was approaching Provost Alberta, I still had this notion of bicycling throughout the night. From the position of the sun in the sky I knew it would be dark sometime between Provost and Macklin Saskatchewan. Through those 12 miles or 20kms - it's interesting how the texture of the paved road plays with your bicycling. With the effort required. As soon as I passed Provost I was back on bad pavement. Just a terrible highway. And I lost my catalyst just like that. I went from hero to zero in a blink of an eye. I really struggled that mere distance to Macklin. The idea of bicycling through the night disappeared just like that. Just getting to Macklin I welcomed.

As I passed a large hotel in Macklin, I thought of people sleeping in it. The cost. I just pictured someone paying $200 dollars for a night. And I thought how silly that would be. That you could be like me and sleep on Mother's soil, like our ancestors once did. That you could give that $200 dollars or whatever a hotel room costs to charity. And I found myself thinking of the spirit of Margaret Anne Dempsey, and her selfless ways.

I bicycled to the Macklin Co-op, but it was closed. I was going to refill my water bottles. I was still good. I could manage through the night. And too, that wind I prayed for had appeared. In fact, a wind warning was now out, though I didn't know it at the time without any devices.

In Macklin I slept in the same spot as I did on day one. The park behind the St. Joseph's health facility. It's a beautiful park filled with Christian sculptures. A paved pathway and so much more. When I reached it. I surprised a large deer. The deer also had that park in mind to rest at. Sadly, I scared it away. There is a marble bench. I tried to sleep on it at first. If you remember the grass is filled with an automatic sprinkler system. I didn't feel like getting wet again. But the bench was too short. I couldn't get settled on it. I then went to a concrete area that I could tuck away and not be seen. But it was too hard on my back. In fact, my lower back got hurt from it. I returned to the grass. Luckily this night the sprinklers didn't turn on. It was a night of crazy wind. I'm sure it reached 100kms an hour or 60 miles an hour. Things were flying around. Trees were breaking. What a night! I got up in the middle of it to go do a 'Nature Break' when I scared a rabbit out of its resting place. I love rabbits. But rabbits are a story for another time. And I returned to the ground that I came from. I prayed for sleep. Of course, your scared. Cold. And yet, you wouldn't change it for the world. And I did sleep. Morning broke. And I awoke. Macklin was still quiet. But large trucks were passing the main road that I was off of. Those large trucks were oil trucks. They were starting their day. And I gathered myself. Packed up my stuff. And got on my bicycle and battled the insane wind to the Macklin Co-op. There I went to their washroom. And did my hair the best I could. Groomed the best I could for now sleeping outside for four days.

Day five was about to start with the hopes of returning home to Saskatoon and the apartment I've lived in for thirty-three years. The Macklin Co-op provided me with a free coffee. I filled my water bottles. And I was now off to Unity Saskatchewan. 60kms or 38 miles. I bicycled most of it in the dark on day one before RCMP officer Mike picked me up. I forgot just how bad the highway was. This stretch of highway between Macklin and Unity was the worst on this bicycle trip. You're bicycling along the shoulder, then it's gone. The pavement of the shoulder is all broken up. In fact, it's not there. Just the sand beneath it. The highway lane, the white line, and then a shape edge of pavement is all that is there. And your forced onto the very same pavement as the vehicles go on. But there is little traffic. But you're constantly looking behind you. In fact, you go into the coming lane and go against traffic, as its safer. And the pavement of the highway isn't that great itself. You're constantly trying to find the smooth patch of road, as it's easy to bicycle on. There is less resistance to your bicycle tires. Thus, faster. And that wind. It was insane like it had been throughout the night. I got the wind I prayed for. It was coming from the northwest. On my left side and my back. But at the slow speed I was traveling, navigating this terrible highway, that northwest wind was really pushing my bicycle over. It was a real challenge to make it to Unity. And finally, I did. I got back to that very Co-op with an A & W attached to it that I meant Bob the first day. Their clock read: 10:30 a.m. I was so grateful to be there. And inside. A break from the wind. I could gather myself.

I went to the Co-op restroom. I looked in their mirror. Oh, my long hair. The wind sure had dressed it. I looked like I had been beat with a large stick. I sure did look like a homeless man. And my aroma? Well... no one made a comment. I washed up the best I could. I returned to the A & W for another A & W classic breakfast of bacon and eggs with whole wheat toast like I had on morning three in Camrose Alberta.

It was busy in the A & W and Co-op. Active of the living. And I welcomed it. I savoured my breakfast. So thankful for the meal. The nourishment. And I met many more nice people that were all interested in what I was doing. All came to learn of the life of Margaret Anne Dempsey.

And I was now off. Bicycling out of Unity registered like it did when I first came through it on day one. My brother Bob was born here. My parents, my family had memories of it. You seep all of that it. You try to see it for them. The highway was far better. I could reach higher speeds, and too, I had proper nourishment. I felt far better than the hours before.

Soon I was at the Scott access road. I stopped. I looked down the road that led to Scott Saskatchewan. I was grateful for my time there in day one. Being able to visit their cemetery. My relatives. A large truck was broken down feet away from me. Markers placed around it. Someone's day hadn't started off all that well. And there I stood. My bicycle between my legs. I just reflected on all my memories of childhood in Scott Saskatchewan. It's hard to leave. There is always a feeling you'll never see it again. In all of these travels. All of these areas are those same feelings. And you're seeping it all in the best you can. You're not just viewing it for yourself. But for those that came before you. You're honouring them as well.

It's interesting. With the northwest wind I found it hard bicycling at slow speeds. But if I could reach 35kms an hour or 22 miles an hour I got into a pocket sort of speak. At that speed the wind worked with me. And it was easier to bicycle at that speed than a lesser speed. And thus, I kept up that speed and rocketed down the highway. Not long and I was in Wilkie Saskatchewan and thinking of Jackie and Duane Gerein. And my time with them on day one.

Duane told a story I forgot to Jackie and me on day one. Duane had come in for a week in the summer in the 1970s. And he told of the story of me buying a strobe light. I still have that very strobe light packed away. I come upon it every once and awhile and wonder why I still keep it. Now I know why I haven't thrown it out. Duane said I was so embarrassed, I had no idea Miles was pulling out a large glass container filled with quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. That he was buying this $79.95 strobe light with a container of change. Duane said I can still picture the salesmen's eyes in Midtown Plaza and the record store we were in when he witnessed the glass container. It was at this time Duane left the store, like I don't know this person.

It's funny. I forgot all about that until Duane told the story. Subconsciously, I wasn't throwing out that strobe light - has there was a great story found in it. Music has always played a large part in my life. It's what brought Margaret Anne Dempsey and I together. With her initially looking for a car stereo.

Duane carried that story with him all these years. Now over five decades. Like my story with Margaret Anne Dempsey. We all have memories and stories. We really are all one people. One love.

With that strobe light - I was again reminded of creating an experience.

It wasn't just a strobe light - I was trying to create experiences even at the tender age of twelve and thirteen. It wasn't just learning how to play the guitar, to learn how to play a song - but how it would be presented. I wanted us to look the best we could. To have lights. Smoke. Strobe lights. To really take the listener - the person watching to a place of goosebumps.

And with Duane and Wilkie Saskatchewan on day one I was reminded of this desire I suppose I've always had.

And with all of this in my mind it didn't take long to find myself approaching Landis once again. The town my sweet mother grew up in. The town my mother played in. The town my mother learned to ride a bicycle in. And I thought of Margaret's mother, who on April 14, 1992, changed her name back to her birth name of Dorothy Doloris Dempsey. I know this as eighty-five-year-old Murray Smith searched it out. The selfless Murray Smith invested so much time on my behalf.

Your thinking of Murray Smith, and too, the Cliff Wright Library in Saskatoon that Murray and I spent so many mornings in. Having the brilliant staff members of the library scan files. Scan documents for you. All of them came to learn about Margaret Anne Dempsey. All came to learn about my attempt to reach her tombstone. All of them were excited about this coming trip. And you're thinking about them as well. That you have to reach your destination and get back for them. And there you are in Landis Saskatchewan contemplating it all.

And your off once again, Biggar Saskatchewan and the 'Yohnke' roots just up the highway. And it was then that I remembered part of Margaret Anne Dempsey's two-hour conversation with me. That she mentioned teaching in Sedgewick Alberta. That she lived in Lougheed. But I knew she grew up in Saskatoon. Saskatoon was still home. But she was creating new roots in Alberta. With her at the bible camp, and soon in Red Deer. I didn't know of Sedgewick and Lougheed back in that first week of August of 1988 when Margaret told me. I asked what highway she took. She told me she went through Biggar. And now I remembered telling her my dad was from Biggar. That he was killed in a potash mine accident. And then she said: "Landis." I told Margaret that's where my mother is from. And then Wilkie/Scott and I told Margaret of the many times visiting my dear aunt, cousins, Duane Gerein. That one cousin, twenty-year-old Brenda Gerein was killed in a head-on car accident just three years ago in 1985. That her physical departure had a profound impact on me.

Now I was remembering part of our breathtakingly beautiful two-hour conversation. That I too got so deep about life with Margaret Anne Dempsey. We had a shared road that we travelled. And I was now traveling it again for her.

Once in Biggar, I savoured it at their ESSO on the highway. They have a bench out front that reminds me more of a church pew. And I sit there. I have water. I gathered myself before bicycling again. On the bench I was reminded just how insane the wind was. And I was now off, just another 90kms or 56 miles to Saskatoon city limits. The next 18 miles or 30kms are very hilly to the next town of Perdue.

Once in Perdue I looked up eighty-three-year-old Lloyd Ingram. Lloyd Ingram is a story for another time. God willing in 2026. When I came through Perdue on day one it was still early. Lloyd and his family weren't up. Now, I caught the busy Lloyd Ingram at home. He asked where I was bicycling to now. I told him the story. That I had already been in the saddle five days and nearly 1400kms. I told Lloyd I'd be back in the coming weeks for a proper visit. We hugged. I told Lloyd I loved him very much, and I was on my way.

And soon the Cory potash mine that my dad was physically killed at when I was five years old was in the distance. On my right side. And as I passed it with it in the distance, I said to myself: "Dad, now a victory lap," and I eased up on the speed. I was going to slowly bicycle in the last miles or kms to Saskatoon in his honour. "Dad, look what we have done," I said. And a little later down the highway I let out a big exhale and I pictured my mother. I remembered my mother letting out a big exhale and looking at me when she did it. I had to think for a moment where she did that. And then I remembered. It happened as it turned out twelve days before she went to be with our Heavenly Father.

We were in St. Paul's hospital. We both were given the news she had just weeks to live. And we walked side by side through the hospital - like we had earlier, no walking aids, etc., for my eighty-seven-year-old mother, but after a great distance she stopped walking, and just looked at me (she was tired) and let out a big exhale. She looked at me with a look I'll take to my grave -- I can still picture her eyes -- she didn't say a word -- and we started walking again for we didn't stop long - just mere moments. Through my mother's eyes she was telling me like she had my entire life, we don't quit.

And on this bicycle trip to view Margaret Anne Dempsey's tombstone and remember her life. The very same bicycle trip that started on the sixth year of my beloved mother's physical departure we didn't quit. We got there and back. I was now through Saskatoon and reached the back door of my building complex. I was home once again.

Life is a blessing. You have time to really reflect bicycling out on the highway. And now after.

When I originally got my rear flat tire on that Saturday, August 30, 2025. If Kelly Bragg at Doug's Spoke and Sport told me - I just have to charge you the full cost of the tube and repair - I don't know if I would have gone on. As Margaret Anne Dempsey's life was based on selflessness. I don't know if I would have seen the point to it. Kelly Bragg's understanding - his empathy and compassion propelled this very bicycle trip.

And within this story of Margaret Anne Dempsey--we learn of many more beautiful stories of people. Why was I scared? Why are we scared? We have read. We have come to feel here in this short story that the whole at large is a friendly one. A deeply understanding one. In this story we learn of many nationalities all coming together as one people. As one love.

I've spoke of removing the falseness of self. What does that really entail? I mentioned my two BMWs. That I bought them more to show others I was a somebody. Because I was told by paid professionals that I wouldn't amount to much in life. I was hurt by their words. And indirectly I wanted to show them they were wrong. But BMWs don't make you a somebody. Nor does your income. It's what you become. Margaret Anne Dempsey had removed all of her falseness by the time I met her. That's a remarkable feat at any age let alone just at a tender age of twenty-four. Margaret Anne Dempsey truly had removed all falseness of self. I felt it then - thirty-seven years ago.

Eighteen-year-old Ruth Ellen Gibson made a terrible mistake late Monday morning, August 8, 1988, driving in her state of being. But like me with my BMWs and other mistakes throughout my life, we all make mistakes. What matters is we take ownership of them. That we come to understand why we made them in the first place. And we teach from them to help move society forward in a far more respectful way of living.

We have to get our lives to a place like Margaret Anne Dempsey where we place others before ourselves. Margaret was just twenty-four. Most twenty-four-year-old aren't volunteering their summers. Their talking about 'fun.' About vacationing. About partying. They're talking about self.

Margaret Anne Dempsey didn't need to physically die that August 8, 1988. She made a choice. She was good with it. She had freed her mind of self. Her sole goal was to enrich others like those attending the bible camp. She was alive. And she will always remain alive because of her choosing.

If you don't remove that falseness of self. That bigotry. That racism. That constant craving for possessions. That more and more. That BMW. That large home. Your never home with that falseness of self. You're already dead. And one day it becomes official. You have to remove that falseness for a true life.

You have to look within why you speak like you do. If you carry divide and hate towards other people. Other origins of people. Maybe you inherited that speech from your parents, from your ancestors. But you have to stop and say why do I speak like I do. It's obviously we are all the same. We all don't want to be scared. And why should we be? Just look at all the encounters I experienced. Almost each and every one came together. The ones that brushed me off - perhaps they had something going on in that very moment that made them that way. But we don't brush them off. We have understanding. Those at the A & W in Camrose also shown elements of kindness. Of love. It's in all of us. But we must remove the falseness of self. That jealousy towards others. That envy towards others. That defensiveness towards others. All those emotions are unhealthy ones. They are signs of a dysfunctional being. And you can truly remove all this falseness of being like Margaret Anne Dempsey shown.

In God I Have Put My Trust - Psalm 56:11 - you've seen that woven throughout the story. As mentioned, I first came upon that when I viewed Margaret Anne Dempsey's grandmother, Anne Dempsey's tombstone on the internet. And then in person in the Asker cemetery. You've read time and time again of signs appearing that aligns within this story. And I'm sure if you look within - you'll experience the same with your life.

In 2015, now a decade ago, I wrote a poem titled: "The Final Act" where I spoke of God being the consummate screenwriter. That he brings all his actors together, though often the script has not been completely understood nor totally read by the lead actors. And that do we truly understand every chapter carefully placed before us? Does one experience the true meaning, the true meaning of our life's story? Wherever you are, whatever you're trying to accomplish, be all there, be all in. Consume the total plot, this act that leads you forward, forward towards your own legacy. And draw from it - these tangible miracles, the miracles from within. Looking at someone. These cells of feelings, feelings coursing through them, never turning off, until the end. We matter, we all matter. To the depths of each one's soul, living in the eyes of divine connection. Do not take the person, the person out of personal, for it is all personal, each person. Be the director and producer of your own life's journey. Let your being reach, reach all. Pen your hope, led by charge. Let your story prevail.

I say this, as I think of the very store Margaret Anne Dempsey and I met in - The Harmony Centre. Margaret and my story started before our birth.

The Harmony Centre was renamed to that in the year 1962. The year before both of us were born. Bill Boklaschuk had a partner that started the business in 1946 as B & D Appliances. And in 1962 Bill Boklaschuk bought out his partner and renamed the business to 'The Harmony Centre.'

I'll be forthright. At the time I worked there I never realized the full meaning to the name - The Harmony Centre. I just looked at it and understood it at one dimension. Creating harmony through music. But in reality, looking back, subconsciously it was morphing me into this very being that I've become.

When I met Margaret Anne Dempsey, she had already found her center. She was living in peaceful harmony. It was only appropriate that we'd meet in 'The Harmony Centre.'

God has a plan for you. God has a plan for us.

And we return to Margaret Anne Dempsey. Nearly four decades later, I can still hear her: "I'm just kicking tires. I just want to DREAM!" Margaret Anne Dempsey's life was a DREAM! Margaret Anne Dempsey was an experience. Margaret Anne Dempsey was heaven on earth!

In Loving Memory of Margaret Anne Dempsey (September 28, 1963 - August 8, 1988)