We are here at the club, because Dad loved sailing. He introduced us kids to this wonderful hobby at the cottage growing up. Greg and I often teased dad about being a cottage sailor once we got into racing. One summer dad and Greg brought the hobie cat to the club and tried racing in the Wednesday night dinghy races that I already sailed in on another catamaran. My skipper would ask me where dad and Greg were going when they seemed to be vearing away from the course. The answer? Dad’s fun loving spirit prevented him from tacking just to go around the course when he had good wind and the hull flying!
I get it, we loved hanging off the hobie cat trapeze when we were little, sometimes hanging off both sides of the boat at the same time when dad would take a bunch of kids out during summer cottage gatherings.
One of my favourite memories is the time that dad and I took the Laser out in heavy wind at the cottage one evening when I was a kid, and we capsized and struggled to get the boat righted because it kept rolling and rolling. We laughed so hard each time we fell in the water again. Dad always had a way to laugh at the moments that would otherwise be extremely frustrating. Dad was a refreshing reminder not to take life so seriously – which got me through some difficult times when our twins were little. I would be trying to manage two slippery kids, one trying to climb out of the bathtub and the other trying to climb into the sink – and Dad would be watching and getting such a kick out of it – reminding me to see the humour in the situation (perhaps once they were both safe). I feel like Greg got that attribute from Dad, one I admire and wish I could embrace more often.
Dad was so creative without ever taking credit for it. As a kid, I needed to be an eagle for the church Christmas pageant (not sure why now??), and was expected to make my own costume. I had always thought of myself as an artist, but I was amazed at the creation my dad came up with using only cereal boxes, paper and tape…a real eagle head!
He was a DIY Dad, almost a jack of all trades, but with a wave of the hand to brush off the specifics or technicalities of how things should be done, never expecting anything to be perfect. He was great at “jimmy rigging” something to make it work, and came up with quite a few contraptions that I can remember him building from scraps we had around the house or cottage. He wasn’t afraid to take on something new, and worked hard at everything he did. He learned plumbing and carpentry, and improved his skills in retirement when transforming their cottage into a house, and most recently building a gazebo in their backyard just this spring.
I really appreciate the healthy lifestyle dad chose, setting a good example by only buying us all bus passes for the winter months when we were in school, and he himself biking downtown to work everyday the rest of the year. I did that same bike ride to work later in university when dad got me a job with him at the Bank of Canada. In high school, he was my morning alarm clock, and although he wasn’t a morning person, he got up to drive me to my sports practices at what we both considered to be an excessively early time of day.
Many of Dad’s hobbies were outdoors, and he instilled the importance of spending time in nature. He took me cross country skiing until I realized that my favourite parts were the hills – and then he’d drop me off to go downhill skiing while he hit the nearby cross country trail. But I tried to pick up cross country skiing again as an adult, and I would go with him up in North Bay on our seasonal holiday visits. Our family gatherings almost always involved a nature walk, something I still love to do with my friends and family. Dad also introduced us to camping as kids, and I often think of the tricks he taught us when camping now, like warming big rocks by the fire and putting them in the bottom of the sleeping bags to warm them up before bed. Our big camping trip out west when I was 12 years old is one of my fondest memories, although many of the photos emphasize my teenage angst at the time. When going through family photos recently, I realized that there weren’t that many of dad, because dad was always behind the camera, and made us stop way too often for the scenic shots.
Everyone knows dad loved music, as he was always the one swaying enthusiastically while singing in the church choir or while playing the piano. My parents loved ballroom dancing, and my dad would always get me to dance with him at weddings. I would try to follow his rhythm but I just don’t have it.
Dad encouraged my hobbies too, and built me a painting easel for the basement where I would spend hours painting. We shared books from the time that I could read, and passed our birthday and Christmas presents back and forth to read. My dad, mom and I spent most evenings at the cottage on the couch reading, which drove Greg crazy. We also did many puzzles together, which dad much preferred over the forced family board game nights!
Dad, the business man, was always thinking practically and logically – that’s where I get it. Once I turned 16, Dad stopped telling me what to do. I would approach dad with a decision I had to make, looking for advice, and secretly hoping he would give me the answer. He never did. Instead he helped me come up with the pros and cons of each option in the situation, never giving any indication which way he was leaning. Once I made a decision, he would then launch into all the benefits of my choice (and would have done so no matter what the decision). I really appreciated that parenting technique, even if not at the time.
After my parents split up, dad and I had weekly dinners to catch up and discuss all the things. He continued to be very supportive, but most of all, was always honest with me and didn’t try to shelter me from the hard truths of my mother’s illness at the time. He tried to prepare me for the reality of the situation, and helped me navigate life after she died. He was always there for me, and while he approached most situations in his business-like manner, he was also a really affectionate person and gave the best hugs.
I’m lucky to have spent so much time with dad as an adult. In retirement, when Dad and Lynn moved to Bonfield, they would still come visit often, staying with us for extended weekends almost once a month. They helped us buy our first house, and we built them a suite in the basement which made their stays more comfortable. We would also visit them seasonally at their house in Bonfield, and each time felt like a mini holiday retreat. The longer visits meant more real time was spent together, just living around each other.
I’m extremely grateful that Dad and Lynn decided to move back closer to Ottawa when our twins were born, not only because of their invaluable help at one of the most difficult times of my life, but also just for their company. We saw them almost daily for the first year and weekly after that, except for those first few long months of covid, until they could be in our bubble! Just this spring, while together at the cottage, I thought to myself how lucky we are that they are so healthy and able to be so actively involved in our lives. I’m glad that dad was able to live happy and healthy right up until the last month of his life, and that he didn’t have to go through a long drawn out illness, even though he was taken much too soon.
Dad always had an expressive face, from the smile that went with the laugh that everyone mentions, to the eyebrows-raised angry-face we knew so well as teenagers. I remember the look on his face when I announced I was pregnant after 10 years of saying I was never going to have kids. I could see that he was happy, and in disbelief, but he would never have let me know that he was hoping I would have children. He played such a large part in my kids lives and I’m extremely saddened that they won’t get to spend more time with him. They miss him deeply. In the hospital, when it came down to the last days when he wasn’t speaking, we could still understand him from his facial expressions. I’ll never forget the way he tried to blow me kisses by smacking his lips together when he could no longer tell me that he loved me.
I love you too dad, and miss you very much.
This is a lovely tribute for your Dad.. I expect you thought about what you wanted to say for awhile as it is very difficult to encapsulate a whole lifetime into a short summary, The important thing is that you highlighted what was meaningful for you.