David Frenette stood on the edge of the bridge overlooking the mouth of the Humber River, contemplating his next move.

He had just witnessed two other young men celebrating the hot summer day by jumping from the Humber Bay Arch Bridge, a sight that appealed to his risk-taking personality. At a scorching 30 degrees, Tuesday, Aug. 26 was a warm reprieve from an otherwise cool Toronto summer. The city had issued its first heat alert of the season.

The 20-year-old Frenette, who had been living in Toronto for only four days, was satisfying his burning desire to explore his new surroundings by taking a bike ride along the Martin Goodman Trail, enjoying stunning views of the park, the sunlight shining on the waterfront and the CN Tower in the distance.

As he pulled up to the bridge, its towering white pipes visible from the Gardiner Expressway, he spotted the men jumping into the water. The five-foot-ten Frenette, very fit with brown hair accentuating his blue eyes, quickly parked his bike, removed his T-shirt, and stood on the side of the deck. He had no intention of jumping; he was going to dive.

As he took his position, Krista Heier, a family physician and anesthesiologist, was coming up to the bridge on her rollerblades and stopped. She could tell by looking at Frenette, who was still wearing his belt around his shorts, that this was a spontaneous act. She also had a bad feeling about this.

“Later, I saw the signs that said ‘Danger. Do not jump from bridge,’” she told the Star.

But Frenette had seen that the other two men were fine. He was also an experienced diver and certified lifeguard. Water was his element.

“He was born a fish,” his brother, Joe, would later say. He dived into bodies of water all around the world, including once from a tall cliff in Australia, where someone had spray-painted the words “No Fear.”

“He felt fear, he knew fear, but he just didn’t let it control him,” said his father, Rob. “He felt pain, and sorrow and life’s challenges, but he always found a way to push past it.”

If Frenette was feeling any apprehension that day in August, standing above the mouth of the river in this new and strange and exciting city, he was indeed able to move away from it. Was he still thinking about his family? He had just texted his parents that morning, asking if it was OK to drill holes in the walls of his new condo and put up some pictures.

As the afternoon was coming to a close and the sun was shining brightly over the water, Frenette, with about a dozen people watching, did what Heier called a “beautiful flipping dive” into the river.

Then people began to scream. There was blood in the water. The two young men ran in and pulled Frenette to land. Heier, still at the bridge, called 911, but could immediately tell that things were looking grim. It was evident that Frenette’s head had hit something hard in the water.

While another man at the scene spoke to the 911 operator, Heier removed her rollerblades and socks and dashed down to Frenette. There was more screaming, with multiple people calling out for help. Mustering the kind of calm only doctors can in such tense circumstances, Heier held tightly onto this stranger’s jaw and kept his airway clear for what felt like at least 20 minutes until police and paramedics arrived.

Officers found his belongings up by the bridge, and asked Heier if his name was David. Heier then posed the question to the young man whose face was in her hands, and while he could not speak, he gave her a thumbs up.

“I had a bad feeling when I saw him, but then, when he did that, I thought, ‘Oh my goodness! You’re in there!’ ”

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Frenette was rushed to St. Michael’s Hospital. His family was brought down from Frenette’s hometown of Thunder Bay in a chartered airplane, as there were no more commercial flights leaving that day. And Heier was left by the bridge with a renewed sense of hope.

Spontaneity and a sense of urgency to go out and try new things, such as diving off a bridge, were some of Frenette’s key character traits. He was born five weeks premature. As a child, he didn’t walk to the park or down a grocery store aisle; he did cartwheels. Although he was the youngest of three, he was usually the one leading the pack, encouraging big brother Joe and sister Sarah to get out of their comfort zones.

He read voraciously, trained with the army reserves, was a self-taught piano player, and travelled the world with his siblings, hiking through the Rockies with Sarah, and exploring ancient temples in China with Joe. As he grew older, he was marked by a slight speech impediment that led him to easily latch on to those he felt were misunderstood or needed help.

Although his family started off with very little, his parents ultimately developed a booming engineering consulting business based in Thunder Bay, making him appreciate that some were more fortunate financially than others. His mother, Liana, said he would bring home high school friends who were less well-off, and his parents, in honour of their son, promised to support them in their post-secondary endeavours when they were ready.

While academics were not really his thing, Frenette thrived behind the scenes as a lighting and sound technician at school drama productions.

“He wanted to put others in the limelight, to give them their moment,” said brother Joe, who added it was also this desire that led him to enroll in journalism at Humber College, where he was set to begin classes in the fall.

“There was this big heart, a huge heart. A childlike, but not childish, appreciation for how important living a life well could be,” said Rob. “He never lost that sense of joy for playing with a puppy dog, or going to a playground, or jumping off a bridge. Part of David’s characteristics are shared by everyone in our family. We all believe that taking smart risks makes life worthwhile.”

David Frenette’s life ended on Saturday, Aug. 30. He never regained consciousness. His family is left to wonder what other adventures the son described as a “loveable rascal” by his father would get up to.

For his 21st birthday, on Dec. 28, father and son were set to travel to Antarctica with tuxedos and martinis, planning to make a toast with the penguins. Rob said he might still do that trip one day, but not any time soon.

Heier, who had left her coordinates with St. Michael’s, hoping to learn the status of Frenette’s condition, was contacted by his family. She visited them at the hospital the weekend their son and brother died. They thanked her profusely for her efforts.

“I just want it to be clear, there were others there helping me,” she said. “As a physician, I’m used to patients coming in already broken and needing help. I don’t see them going full of life and vigor and enjoying the day one moment, to badly damaged the next.”

For the Frenette family, their grief has been alleviated, albeit slightly, by the place of David’s death.

“It’s difficult for us all to accept that he’s no longer a part of our lives,” said Rob. “But having been to that bridge as a family, and seen how gorgeous the view is, we felt that if David could have picked his last day, he would have done the exact same thing.”