SENATORS’ STATEMENTS — The Late Honourable Todd Lewis
Inquiry--Debate Concluded
September 29, 2026
Rose pursuant to notice of September 28, 2026:
That he will call the attention of the Senate to the life of the Honourable Todd Lewis.
He said: Honourable senators, I rise today to pay tribute to a kind and gentle man, a colleague, a mentor, a role model, a friend, someone who joined us not long ago and who left us far too soon.
Three things stick out in my mind. Senator Lewis rose for his inaugural speech on Tuesday, October 28, 2025, to support my Bill S-230. As you have already heard, he had us in stitches within seconds of starting his speech, and part of it focused on Saskatchewan soils, in general, and his farm, specifically. He noted the health of prairie soils and, in particular, his own farm’s healthy soils. With that twinkle in his eye and a snicker, he told us that he had 25 feet of topsoil on much of his farm, something truly unheard of in much of the rest of this country.
When Senator Robinson phoned me on Saturday morning, August 1, I was at a tree farm near Wroxeter, Ontario. The nursery owner, Emanuel Martin, was pointing out the particulars of a new variety of tree he had for sale. It was called the Green Giant Cedar. After a good cry with Mary and collecting myself, Emanuel gave me one of those cedars, and he asked me to plant it, tend to it and look after it. Colleagues, I planted this Green Giant Cedar in a quiet grove on a special trail on our property in memory of another giant in my eyes, Senator Todd Lewis.
Finally, colleagues, I’ve shared with Todd’s family something that I found on, of all places, a wine bottle in a boutique winery in New York State many years ago. It was written by young Hannah Senesh, 1921-1944, a poet and playwright who spent her last years in the Jewish resistance under the British Armed Forces in World War II. Her words have, in the past, comforted me on many occasions:
There are stars up above, so far away we only see their light long, long after the star itself is gone. And so it is with the people that we loved — their memories keep shining ever brightly though their time with us is done. But the stars that light up the darkest night, these are the lights that guide us. As we live our days, these are the ways to remember.
I last saw Senator Lewis on Thursday, July 16, when we — his wife, Terry; my wife, Julie; Senator Robinson and others — had lunch on the Halifax Harbour front. At our goodbyes, he gave me a bear hug, saying, “Take care, Rob. Have a good summer.” Fifteen days later, he was gone.
I will miss Senator Lewis, a gentle giant like that cedar tree, and I will remember him as a mentor and one of those stars that will guide me going forward. To his wife, Terry; his daughter, Kim; his brothers, Rod and John, and their families; and his friends: May you find peace and comfort in the company of family, friends and very special memories into the future. Rest in peace, Todd.
Honourable senators, friends and members of Senator Lewis’s family, Senator Lewis was with us in this chamber for a short time, but he left a lasting impression on all of us who had the privilege of knowing him.
One of the memories that will stay with me is a visit to his farm near Gray, Saskatchewan, with my staff last July. That day offered a glimpse of the qualities that made Senator Lewis such a remarkable person and colleague.
We began our visit at the rink in Gray, which also serves as the town museum. It was filled with hockey memorabilia, decades of local history and all the signs of a community that looks after its own and takes pride in where it comes from. It struck me that there could hardly have been a more fitting place to meet Senator Lewis. He was a man with deep roots in his family, his community, Saskatchewan and the land he had farmed for more than 40 years.
That connection to community was reflected in how he lived. He served more than 20 years on his municipal council, sat on his local school board, volunteered as a firefighter and devoted countless hours to his community rink and hall. He spent a lifetime showing up for the people and places he called home.
At his family farm, Senator Lewis showed us his land and equipment. It quickly became clear that he knew his way around even the most sophisticated, high-tech machinery, yet he saw no contradiction between innovation and tradition. For him, new technology was another way of caring for the land, protecting its future and carrying forward a craft passed down through generations.
As a fourth-generation farmer, he was a strong advocate for Saskatchewan agriculture, serving as President of the Agricultural Producers Association of Saskatchewan, or APAS, and, later, as First Vice-President of the Canadian Federation of Agriculture.
He brought that practical perspective to the Senate.
I remember more than his accomplishments, though. I remember how warmly he spoke about his family and land. I remember his genuine nature, his generosity and, of course, his loyalty to the Roughriders. He had played for the Rams at the University of Regina, too, and seemed to carry that same pride and connection to Saskatchewan throughout every chapter of his life.
Crystal and Toby Frisk, who had a 40-year friendship with the Honourable Todd Lewis, described him as a humble man from a small town who was a leader, a gentleman and a pillar of his community. Crystal, who met Senator Lewis when they were much younger, said his “big smile and easy laugh made him a friend the moment you met him.” I can’t disagree.
I will also remember how warmly he spoke about his staff. It was a small but telling reflection of his leadership. He understood that good work is never done alone. Senator Lewis’s time in the Senate was far too short, but he gave us a glimpse of knowledge, practical wisdom and a commitment to Saskatchewan and rural Canada that he left with us to carry forward.
Before I sign off, I want to let senators know about this 25-foot topsoil. That came out of the big dig from the Wascana Lake in front of the legislature.
To his family, we’re deeply grateful that he shared himself with us, however briefly. He is still in our hearts; we will never lose him.
Honourable senators, you know what they say about a farmer: He has to be an optimist, or he wouldn’t still be one. It’s a way of life — no farmers, no food. We know all the cliches, but this one really captured Todd: You reap what you sow. It’s a golden rule, and it defined Todd. He always sowed with heart in hand, and he reaped the respect of all who knew him.
Todd was indeed an optimist. He believed in hard work, taking time to change minds and giving anyone and everyone the benefit of the doubt because that was the right thing to do. Todd believed that no act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted if you’re trying to help others understand your world and why that world matters to them.
He did that through APAS, and he did it here in the Senate. He even invited a former prime minister to come to his farm to see what a farm looked like and the importance of agriculture to Ottawa’s bottom line.
When Todd was asked to serve his country in this chamber, it was never about “should he” or “could he,” whether he deserved the honour or he could have an impact; no, it was about how to do it all: keep the farm running, be the public advocate he already was, make the trips, answer the calls and have the time to be a husband and a father, because those were job number one.
Todd was a guy you just immediately loved. You could stand in a line at the airport, have a nice dinner or just a quick catch-up between votes. He was comfortable, so he made you feel comfortable. His eyes were kind, and his smile was warm. He was a guy with a big heart. However, only a fool would mistake that teddy-bear persona for a softie, although he was that. He was smart as a whip and tough as nails. In Saskatchewan, a farm boy comes from hardy stock.
We often shared jokes about coming from a place where you can watch your dog run away from home for two weeks, and we smiled when someone who had once driven through on their way to Winnipeg or Calgary disparaged the flatness or the endless fields, claiming there was nothing to see. Obviously, they just weren’t looking.
As beautiful as Saskatchewan is, it can also be harsh. Character is defined by unforgiving circumstances. Even the simplest plan can be hijacked by a snowstorm in April or hail in August. The elements test you, and no one knows that better than a farmer.
Todd was a son of the land, and he was a steward of it. The highest tribute that can be paid is this: Everybody who knew him called him a friend, because he was.
Todd, you are and will be missed beyond measure. Our hearts are with you, Terry, Kim and the entire family. We will try and have your back, because we know he has ours.
Honourable senators and Todd’s family, I grew up on a farm in southern Ontario. As a teenager, I worked beside some of the most insightful and respectful men I’ve ever known. They often spoke of their youth and farming in the 1920s and 1930s. One gentle old-timer talked about his start in Saskatchewan, working to finally acquire a single horse and a one-furrow plow. By the late 1920s, he said that opportunity was everywhere.
It didn’t last, however. Saskatchewan farm incomes plummeted by 97% between 1928 and 1933. He left and never returned.
It seems that the lessons of the Great Depression were imprinted onto the genetic code of those who stayed — those who fought to survive and rebuild. Over the past 12 years, my brother Rich had the honour of getting to know the fine people of Gray, Saskatchewan, and the Lewis family, in particular. I’m going to quote my brother:
On rare occasion, it will happen, that you arrive in a place, however small, and are struck by its richness of community . . . its inner beauty.
Gray, Saskatchewan, with fewer than a hundred residents, is such a place . . . floating on an ocean of wheat and canola.
Gray is where Todd Lewis grew up, stayed and became a local leader. Gray shaped his good nature, his determination to solve problems and his reflex to always pitch in and help.
Todd brought those qualities to many provincial roles and, ultimately, to national ones, including here in the Senate, but, as we’ve all said, for far, far too short a time.
I’ll quote my brother Rich again:
Insight into Todd’s character can be found at the Gray Rink, with its November thru March natural ice pad, its Friday night community dinners that Todd, his family and neighbours would organize, cook and serve.
Everyone’s needs were considered, from those in wheelchairs to a well appointed colouring and play area for kids.
The ceiling of that main room evokes a prairie Sistine Chapel. On it is a map of the local land grid with the original pioneer family names stencilled in each quarter, and the subsequent owners below.
It’s a salute to Gray’s sturdy, resolute fore-bearers.
After 100 or more prairie winters, and so many quarter sections still with the same families, it’s also an indication that . . . those genes . . . and that will . . . perseveres today.
Colleagues, it’s the unrelenting kindness, the reflex to embrace the needs of every community member, the enduring respect for the sacrifices of those who came before and the commitment to helping one another, especially through the toughest of times — those values were the essence of the Honourable Senator Todd Lewis. He is and will continue to be deeply missed.
Thank you, colleagues.
Honourable senators and Senator Lewis’s family, at my first encounter with Senator Todd Lewis, in welcoming him to the Senate of Canada and wishing to establish my Saskatchewan credentials, I noted my son, Craig Berube — not the former Leafs coach; my son is still employed — attended Athol Murray College of Notre Dame in Wilcox, Saskatchewan, and, following high school, played Junior A hockey for the Hounds.
Todd’s immediate smile was as broad and wide open as the Saskatchewan sky. He said, “You have driven right by my farm.”
Thereafter, we would often be walking into the Senate of Canada Building together, and our conversations were similar — warm, friendly and a report on how the farms in Saskatchewan were faring. Sometimes there was a little hockey or football talk for fun.
Senator Lewis represented Saskatchewan. He was every Saskatchewanian. I have no doubt he had a friend, a relative or a close tie in every province and territory in Canada. There were no farming-related questions he would not answer with patience and grace, and there was genuine care and kindness for the person who was asking. Even the shortest conversations would include a genuine interest in how things were with everyone involved.
The loss of Senator Lewis is a loss to Saskatchewan, to our country and, most especially, to his family. I offer you my heartfelt condolences. My thoughts will be with you during this difficult journey of grief and loss. Please know that I am truly grateful for the short time I had to know him, and thank you for sharing him with the Senate of Canada. Thank you.
