When Bill Staubi received a Stage-4 liver cancer diagnosis, a timeline of roughly eighteen months was laid before him. He didn’t crumble. Instead, with a quiet resolve, he began to prepare – immunotherapy, funeral arrangements, informing loved ones, and initiating the process for Medical Assistance in Dying.
But a task loomed larger than his own arrangements: the fate of his life’s passion. For nearly half a century, Staubi had amassed a collection of 1,200 to 1,500 pieces of art. He refused to burden his son with its dispersal, understanding the weight of such a responsibility.
He began a meticulous redistribution, returning works to their creators, generously gifting pieces to the City of Ottawa and the Ottawa Art Gallery – where an exhibition, “Grotto,” now flourishes with his contributions. Others found homes with organizations like SAW Gallery and the Mississippi Valley Textile Museum, bolstering their fundraising efforts.
It was a monumental undertaking, completed just weeks after his projected timeline had passed. Even as the cancer spread, he continued, carefully placing each piece with the same dedication he’d shown in acquiring it. He even borrowed and rented art to fill the spaces left on his apartment walls, refusing to live entirely without the beauty he cherished.
Then, an astonishing shift occurred. As spring arrived, the expected decline didn’t materialize. His energy returned, the pain subsided, and the spots on his lungs began to vanish. Weeks later, the impossible: his cancer had gone into remission. The tumor had died, and Bill Staubi was, unexpectedly, still alive.
“It’s a very odd feeling,” he admits, grappling with the unfamiliar sensation of relinquishing the idea of his own mortality. He’s now medication-free, facing a future of regular monitoring, a future he never anticipated.
There was no dramatic reinvention, no sudden urge to chase a lifelong dream. “There was never some big thing that I had to do before I died,” he reflects. “I was just gonking along, and now I have to figure out how to go back to that.” Yet, surviving his own obituary offered a perspective few experience.
As word of his illness and his generous act of giving away his collection spread, a remarkable thing happened. Letters, calls, and messages flooded in, revealing the profound impact he’d had on countless lives. He was, in his own words, discovering how others saw him.
Recognition came from unexpected corners. He was named Ottawan-of-the-Day, honoured with the Meritorious Service Medal by the Governor General, and the Ottawa Art Gallery established the Bill Staubi Acquisition Fund to support emerging artists. Even everyday encounters transformed, as neighbours recognized him as “the art guy.”
“I got all the love you get at a funeral,” he says, “but to my face.” It was a testament to a life lived with quiet generosity, a life that had touched so many in ways he hadn’t fully realized.
Now, he’s slowly rebuilding a smaller collection, acquiring about fifteen new pieces in recent months. He has no desire to repeat the monumental task of managing 1,500 works, but his commitment to supporting artists remains unwavering. “It’s just who I am,” he says simply.
He never sought extraordinary recognition. “I didn’t think my life was anything unusual,” he says. “I was just doing what I thought you should do as a citizen.” But his story is a powerful reminder that even small acts of kindness can ripple outwards, creating a legacy that extends far beyond our own expectations.
And now, with a newfound appreciation for each day, Bill Staubi is embracing the simple joy of still being here. “It’s nice,” he says, a quiet contentment in his voice. “It’s nice to still be here.”
