Making It Possible #27 – Kathy Labbee

Born in Montreal and drawn west to Calgary in 1979, Kathy built a life around people, community, and curiosity. She was never someone to sit on the sidelines of life. She played badminton in the Mosaic Badminton League, competed in pool leagues, coached lawn bowlers, volunteered with the Bowness Community Association, photographed countless events for the Bowest’ner, and discovered a passion for bird photography that took her to parks across the city in search of wildlife and perfect light.

The things that always brought Kathy joy were walking, photography, and sports. Whether she was exploring a park in search of birds, heading out for a walk through the neighbourhood, competing on the badminton court, or spending a day on the lawn bowling green, she loved being active and engaged with the world around her. She had a natural curiosity and enthusiasm that seemed to turn ordinary days into adventures.

Kathy was one of a kind—an original.

She rode motorcycles. She loved music. Her vinyl collection was legendary among friends, and it wasn’t long before she would appoint herself DJ for the evening, flipping through albums with confidence and enthusiasm until everyone was tapping their feet, singing along, or finding their way onto the dance floor. Kathy didn’t just enjoy life; she invited everyone else to enjoy it too.

Her home reflected the person she was. The walls and shelves held the paintings and carvings created by her father, reminders of family, creativity, and the stories that shaped her. Scattered throughout were dozens of pixies and frogs she had collected over the years—whimsical, colourful, and impossible to ignore. Visitors quickly learned that every item had a story, and Kathy was always happy to tell it.

What many people noticed first was her camera.

What they remembered most was her ability to connect.

Kathy could strike up a conversation with anyone. Neighbours walking down the street. New members at the lawn bowling club. Children at community events. Complete strangers quickly became friends. Through her photographs she documented moments, but through her presence she created them.

She helped make community possible.

One of those connections began at a pool table.

When Kathy first met Jacquie in their pool league, friendship wasn’t exactly the first thing either of them had in mind. They started as fierce competitors—archrivals who fully intended to beat one another every chance they got. But somewhere between the matches, the friendly trash talk, and the years that followed, rivalry gave way to friendship. It became one of those relationships that could only have happened because two strong personalities kept showing up in the same place until they realized they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

That was Kathy’s gift. She had a way of turning acquaintances into friends and communities into families.

Then, in June 2025, everything changed.

After months of tests, Kathy received the diagnosis: ALS.

The news was devastating.

She learned that ALS would slowly take away things most people never think about—the ability to speak, to move independently, to do everyday tasks without help. Over time, she lost her voice. She lost much of the independence she had cherished throughout her life.

For someone who loved being in motion, loved walking, coaching, volunteering, bowling, photographing birds, riding motorcycles, collecting memories, and documenting community life, the losses felt overwhelming.

Many people would understand if she stepped back completely.

But Kathy had spent a lifetime finding ways to make things possible.

And she wasn’t about to stop.

At the Calgary Lawn Bowling Club, she could no longer compete on the greens she loved. Yet she remained connected to the people there. She followed club news through emails. She welcomed visits. She planned to return whenever she could to watch matches and cheer on friends.

The club responded in a way that reflected the community she had helped build. When members learned of her diagnosis, they chose the ALS Society of Alberta as the beneficiary of their annual Charity Day.

It was their way of saying: We are still with you.

Their president, Heather Mackie, captured it perfectly when she said that living with ALS is tricky to navigate, but Kathy is determined to find ways to keep doing the things she loves for as long as she can.

Determined.

That word fit.

Since her diagnosis, Kathy has become a source of encouragement for others facing the same journey. Her advice to someone newly diagnosed is simple and practical: learn as much as you can about ALS and accept all the help and support available through the ALS Clinic. She speaks highly of the ALS Society of Alberta, whose equipment programs and dedicated staff provide invaluable support to people living with the disease. She especially appreciated the Society’s coffee groups, where people can ask questions, share experiences, and discover they are not facing ALS alone.

Because Kathy’s story was never really about photography, lawn bowling, birding, motorcycles, vinyl records, or volunteering.

Those were expressions of something deeper.

Whenever she photographed a community event, she made it possible for memories to endure.

Whenever she coached a new bowler, she made it possible for someone to belong.

Whenever she welcomed a friend into her home, surrounded by her father’s artwork and a small army of faeries, she made it possible for people to feel comfortable and connected.

Whenever she took over the music and got everyone laughing, singing, and moving, she made it possible for joy to spread.

Whenever she stopped her car to say hello to a neighbour, she made it possible for people to feel seen.

And now, even as ALS presents new obstacles every day, Kathy continues to make connection possible.

Her voice may now come through a text-to-speech device.

Her mobility may depend on the support of others.

Her life may look very different than it once did.

But the qualities that made Kathy who she is—her warmth, curiosity, humour, stubborn determination, and love for people—remain untouched.

They still shine through every email she sends, every visit she welcomes, every update she shares, and every smile she offers.

Making it possible doesn’t always mean overcoming every obstacle.

Sometimes it means finding a new way forward when the old way is no longer available.

Sometimes it means accepting help while continuing to contribute.

Sometimes it means choosing connection over isolation, hope over despair, and community over loneliness.

That is what Kathy continues to teach all of us.

The thousands of photographs she took tell the story of Bowness.

But her own story tells us something even more important.

When life changes the rules, when challenges seem impossible, when a path disappears before us, there is still another question to ask:

How can we make it possible?