Almost four months after an alleged drunk driver killed Justin Knackstedt, he was remembered in a ceremony that saw nearly 500 acres of pristine land dedicated in his memory.
Family, friends and fellow conservation officers gathered under a perfect blue sky just west of Pleasantdale on Sept. 24 to remember the 23-year-old Knackstedt, killed at the end of May in Saskatoon while volunteering to direct traffic at the scene of an accident. It was a selfless act that his mother Lori said was just like him.
"He was a person who would help anybody or anything," she said. "I remember going to Saskatoon in the winter when it was icy and some older people had wiped out into the ditch and Justin stopped to help pull them out. Nobody else stopped, but that was him."
Just a week before his death Knackstedt had learned he was to become a full-time conservation officer after three years of seasonal work. It was just the kind of break the nature-loving Knackstedt was looking for and it seemed like he'd found his dream job. In fact, Knackstedt was on duty the night he was killed, on his way to Blackstrap Provincial Park. His dedication and love for the outdoors was a constant theme at the dedication ceremony.
"Justin had deep passion for protecting resources in Saskatchewan," said environment minister Ken Cheveldayoff. "He respected the land and its resources."
Cheveldayoff and Knackstedt's family unveiled the memorial after a moving speech by Knackstedt's father Howard. In a poetic twist, the stone cairn and plaque will look over land where Knackstedt and his father hunted many times, most recently just last fall.
"It's a perfect spot," Lori said of the remote area where, in the early fall sun, trees burst with gentle hues of orange, yellow and red. "He loved this area."
It is a special place for the Knackstedt family. Howard remembered Justin bagging "the biggest moose I'd ever seen" only a couple years ago on one of their frequent hunting trips.
Another companion on many of those trips into the bush was Knackstedt's younger brother Dawson. Only 13, Dawson looked up to his big brother in the awestruck way that little brothers do. Of all the family members at the memorial Dawson was the quietest, almost silent and expressionless, but certainly not for a lack of pain. He's already said he wants to follow in his brother's footsteps and become a conservation officer.
"He totally idolized his brother," Lori said. "Every time Justin came home Dawson would jump all over him like a little dog. 'Justin, Justin, Justin, I gotta show you this, I gotta show you that!' He was just excited to have him home."
Dawson has been quiet in the face of tragedy, though his mother said there are times when the still exterior cracks, times when the enormity of what happened becomes overwhelming.
"He just doesn't say much at all," Lori said. "He's been pretty quiet about it, but the odd time you might see him going through his brother's stuff and he'll be very quiet." Her voice breaks a little. "Then he'll start to cry and go off by himself."
As for the rest of the Knackstedt family, they're all dealing with the loss in their own ways. They are following the court appearances of Blaine Thomas Taypotat, the man accused of killing Knackstedt on that night in late May.
It's an impossible process, one where the pain is as unpredictable as a prairie wind; sometimes it's soft, gentle, almost forgotten; other times it's harsh, unforgiving and relentless.
"They say it's supposed to get better over time, but there's times when it doesn't seem better at all," Lori said.
She and the rest of Knackstedt's family, friends and colleagues can comfort themselves with the knowledge that, long after they're gone, his memory will live on in the woods he loved so dearly.
