SHUTTLEWORTH, William “Bill”
January 9, 1946 – March 13, 2004.
Bill was born in Preston England, January 9, 1946 and came to Canada with his mother at the age of 5 months. Bill retired from the RCMP as a corporal in 1979 to pursue a career as a commercial pilot and flight instructor. Bill had a zest for life, discovery and learning. His passions were flying, photography, electronics, computers, shooting, geocaching, ham radio and animals of all types, especially his cats, Cardo, Missy Miss and Tia. Bill’s special talent and quest in life was to bring joy, humor and laughter into the lives of everyone he met and was delighted when he accomplished this. Bill passed away peacefully in his sleep on March 13, 2004 after a long and courageous battle with cancer at the age of 58. He is survived by his loving mother and father Joni and Dixie Shuttleworth, his sister and best friend Dianne, nephews Nathan and Joel Murdoch, niece Jillian Shuttleworth, Aunt Beth Shaw, and cousins Kerry, Pete and Sheldon Shaw and many, many friends.
At Bill’s request there will be no memorial service. In lieu of flowers those who wish may make a donation to the North Island Wildlife Recovery Center in Bill’s name.
Bill’s family would like to heartfully thank Dr. Kevin McNeil, Dr. Chris Edwards, the hospitilists group, Dr. Spry, emergency room nurse Lois, and the entire nursing staff of the 5th floor palliative care unit at the Nanaimo Hospital for the wonderful care and compassion they showed to Bill and his family. Thank you also to Dr. Brian Altenkirk and Dr. Morag Atherstone.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth and
danced the skies on laughter-slivered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds –
and done a hundred things you have not dreamed of –
wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
Hov’ring there, I’ve chased the shouting wind along,
and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew –
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
John Gillespie Magee Jr.