Karen Busby and my Aunt Joan’s cherry cake

There are people who leave behind a litany of incredible accomplishments. And then there are people who leave a fingerprint on our hearts. Sometimes, a whole handprint. Karen Busby leaves both.

In the days since her passing, many of us have reflected on Karen’s extraordinary contributions to the University of Manitoba and to the many organizations across Canada. But just as often, I find myself remembering something more personal: her gentle, kind eyes and warm smile, her sharp wit, her resilience and determination - and, yes, her mouthwatering gluten free cherry cake.

Karen was a formidable advocate for justice. Throughout her career in the Faculty of Law, she challenged injustice wherever she found it. She played a meaningful role in advancing marriage equality in Canada: work that has shaped lives in ways both visible and deeply personal. In fact, as my partner and I prepare to marry in a few short weeks, we are heartily aware of Karen’s role in making that legally possible for us. She will be with us in so many ways.

Karen was also a trusted public voice. I’d often wake up to Karen’s voice on morning radio, providing thoughtful, balanced commentary on issues ranging from constitutional law to student well-being to LGBTQ2S+ rights. She brought clarity, compassion and conviction to every conversation. She was highly sought after by the media because of the trust they knew they could expect each and every time.

Karen’s influence extended well beyond the classroom. She was instrumental in establishing the UM’s Centre for Human Rights Research and Canada’s first interdisciplinary Master’s program in Human Rights. I had a front row seat as Karen helped bring together partnerships which led to the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation at the University of Manitoba. These are lasting contributions that will shape lives for generations.

She was, above all, a teacher. Even as she faced a progressive illness, she continued to show up for her students, carefully timing her medications around her teaching schedule. Her commitment was unwavering. She believed deeply in her students as future lawyers and as future leaders, and she challenged them to meet that potential.

Yet for all her professional accomplishments, I’m in awe of her greatest impact: her influence on the people around her. That includes friends, neighbours, colleagues, students and her family. She had a remarkable gift for making others feel seen and at home. I remember someone once referred to her as the Queen of the Small Touch. 

I was lucky to feel that care for years. She once asked me how I knew it was Christmas time as a kid? What signaled the holidays? I told her about my Aunt Joan in Newfoundland, who would arrive each Christmas with her famous cherry cake triple wrapped in plastic, wax paper and aluminum foil. Before presents, before dinner, there was that cake: a signal that Christmas had truly begun.

Karen never forgot.

Every year after that – and not just at Christmas – she would surprise me with a cherry cake made from my aunt’s recipe. It wasn’t just a thoughtful gesture. It was something deeper: a way of connecting, remembering, and caring. Earlier this month, my partner Michael and I spent an evening with Karen and her wife, Jan Lederman. We brought dinner, and Karen, – despite everything she was facing – insisted on being Karen.

There, on the kitchen counter, was her latest cherry cake. Her last cherry cake.

Karen did not separate her professional life from her personal one. The same person who fought for justice in courtrooms and classrooms translated that same passion to make sure her friends felt cared for. She could spend the day advancing human rights and the evening asking if you’d had enough to eat. She and Jan delighted in hosting and attending dinner parties where lively conversation was as important a menu item as a delicious meal.

She once offered a piece of advice that has stayed with me: when you accept an invitation, come prepared to be interested or interesting — ideally both, but definitely one.

It was more than a clever line. It was how she lived. Karen showed up fully, curious about others, generous with her ideas, and always ready to engage.

That was her gift.

When the University of Manitoba highlighted Karen through its 2012 Trailblazers campaign with the headline: I Am a Defender, the words could not have been more fitting.

Karen defended people.

She defended ideas and ideals.

She defended hope.

As Vice-President Emeritus, I have had the privilege of working alongside many extraordinary people. Karen Busby was among the very best.

The University of Manitoba is stronger because she was here.

Canada is fairer because she chose to fight.

And she will forever stay in the hearts of those fortunate enough to have known her. My life is better simply because she was in it. Her smile. Her joy. And of course, those cherry cakes.