William "Terry" Terrence Habdas

My father, William Terrence Habdas, known to friends and family as Terry, died on May 31, 2017. He died peacefully in Calgary following a horrific and yet unexplained incident in Honduras which resulted in a broken neck. More so than any person I have ever known, my father lived his life always in the moment—and to the fullest. His adventures took him around the world and led him through dangerous situations. Yet, he would have had it no other way. Let there be no doubt: he died too young. But those that knew him would agree: he would not have traded his adventures for a longer, more boring life.

My father was born in Blairmore, Alberta, Canada on Sunday June 4, 1950. He was the first child born to William “Cobbler” Habdas and Evelyn Mary Habdas. Later, his only sibling Brenda was born. He attended Crowsnest High School, but left without graduating in 1965. He later received his high school equivalency. He suffered a terrible car accident and miraculously made a complete recovery. He served time in the Navy. During that time, he was injured in a serious accident, but again made a full recovery. His time in the Navy was cut short due to a medical discharge.

My mother and father met while he was visiting Las Vegas in the United States. After a whirlwind romance, they were married in February of 1974 and settled down in a small home in Blairmore. I was born in 1976, and my sister Amanda was born in 1981. Although the marriage was initially a happy one—it was not meant to last. My parents divorced 13 years later in 1987. My mother, sister, and I then lived in the United States while our father lived in Canada. This arrangement made it hard to spend regular time together. Although my sister and I did spend numerous summers in Canada during our youth, things were simply not the same. My father went on to have two more children: Jaelyn in 1994 and Tyler in 1997. He never married their mother, and after a contentious break-up, they were left with a long-distance relationship with him as well.

My father worked as a coal miner for a number of years. He was certified for and could operate the heavy machinery like it was an extension of his own body. He worked as a lumberjack. He drove trucks. His search for better employment took him abroad. He worked in Canada, the United States, Central and South America, India, Russia, and other countries. Although he worked hard in all of his jobs, he also enjoyed the cultures and people he encountered. These adventures almost claimed his life numerous times. He almost died from malaria on multiple occasions. He faced tense situations with locals, and numerous accidents, some of which were quite serious. He did not die nor did he ever complain. Instead, he would return with adventure stories. Far too many stories to recount here, but, he ate exotic foods, enjoyed the company of exotic women, hunted for meteorites, found gold, and smuggled jewels from India.

My father had a love of music. This extended beyond mere listening: he was a singer and songwriter. His music was published and played on the radio. He loved a good game of pool, a round (or more) of golf, and enjoyed nights out trading stories with friends over a beer (or beers). More than anything, he loved the connections he made with his friends. And, from all reports, the feelings were mutual. The outpouring of love, support, and admiration from innumerable friends after his death was nothing short of amazing. He clearly managed to touch the lives of a lot of people.

He spent more than the last decade of his life living primarily in Honduras, helping to build and run the Rio Santiago Nature Resort. This eco-tourist resort draws people from around the world: seeking to see and photograph exotic wildlife. I believe these were the happiest years of my father’s life. When he would share stories, photos, videos, and talk about the resort and people he met there, I would see a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. His Spanish was nearly fluent by this point, self-taught. He had a wild Ocelot cat as a pet.

Yet, despite all of this, my father was never extremely close to his children. Out of all of the children, I likely knew him the best, and spent the most time with him as a child. He taught me about the outdoors. He taught me to hunt and fish. I drove my first car sitting on his lap. I have some very good childhood memories of my father. Yet, I also have some fairly horrible ones as well. I will say, that during a particularly difficult period of my life, he was there for me when few others were. I will never forget that.

As to his other children, I will not speak for them. But, I do know that he was not a frequent component of their lives. I believe strongly that his life would have been enriched had he been able to form better and closer relationships with each of his children.  He never got to know any of his grandchildren.  He had four: Tanner, Avery, Jacie, and Allie Grace.

My father was merely a man, among men.  He had faults.  Yet, in the end I believe his life reflected his will.  And, in the light of those that loved him, he was certainly a star in the company of heaven.  I loved him.  So, I say to him:

Though the veil of life hath fallen, may you be granted the accomplishment of your true Will; whether it be the absorption in the Infinite, to be united with those you loved, or to be in contemplation, or to be at peace, or to achieve the labour and heroism of incarnation on this planet or another, or in any Star, or aught else.

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