Thank you for being here today to commemorate Dad’s life and to show your support to our family. It means so much to me, and to us. I’d like to share some fond memories I have of my father. It should come as no surprise to any of you, but this is a bit long. Music *Dad loved big band music. With the exception of songs of praise, I can’t think of a time when I witnessed my father singing or listening to music that wasn’t big band. He liked nothing more than to sit outside on a summer’s evening in the back of his apartment building, listening to the radio. I have such a vivid image of him in my mind, sitting there in a woven lawn chair, with his radio perched inside on the ledge of his bathroom window, playing through the screen, as he enjoyed the twilight air. *Dad also had a lovely singing voice. Over the past ten years in Long Term Care, we heard repeated reports of his regaling the staff and residents with songs. Even after he had lost the ability to speak in full sentences, when I sang part of a song to him, he could finish it. *In his younger years, Dad actually landed an audition for a recording studio. Alas, nerves got the best of him. Decades later, his eyes would well with tears as he said “I choked." I could see the 'what if' thoughts and regrets in his eyes. Who knows, maybe Dad could have been the next Canadian Idol! *Dad had not one minute of musical training and yet in hindsight, I realize he had taught himself to sightread to some degree. He explained to me how he simply paid attention to how the notes on the staff went up or down, and by how much, and judged accordingly how to modulate his voice. Collector *My father was a collector. He saw potential uses in so many things. If you were looking for a particular thing, chances are that Dad would have it. When I was setting up my first apartment I mentioned needing a kitchen table. Dad said ‘wait a minute’ and out he pulls a very nice wooden kitchen table from his hall closet. When I joked about what else he might have stuffed away in that closet, he rolled out a washing machine, complete with a manual wringer. *Dad loved to collect small things too. Bread ties. Rubber bands. Condiments. Wet naps. And he stored them all in re-used milk bags. One of Narius and I’s favourite laughs about Dad was having taken him to a Chinese restaurant. At the end of the meal they brought us the hot towels, scented with lemon and wrapped in plastic. He accepted his from the server and then said to us “What is this?” We replied, it’s a hot towel, for your hands. He said “Oh. Can’t put this in your pocket.” As though a hand towelette that couldn’t go in your pocket bore absolutely no value! *You may have known that my father liked to collect books. He had a couple thousand of them. (99% of these were purchased at the March of Dimes charity shop, for 5 or 10 cents each.) He might not have read all of them, but he had read many of them. Dad had a remarkable ability to read and retain information. He was so encyclopedic that his good friend Cliff nicknamed him “the professor”. *When my friend Jenn & I were enrolled in a Shakespeare credit at Queen’s, I knew to skip the 80.00 set of Shakespeare’s complete works offered by the campus bookstore; we drove over to Dad’s bookstore, where of course he had two sets of the complete works of Shakespeare, and we were welcome to take both. *When Dad made his regular rounds of the used shops and weekend garage sales, he always kept his eye out for things that other people might need. And so for example, when he saw a set of children’s encyclopedias, he would pick it up for the young boy in his congregation that he thought it would be just perfect for. *Nearly every time Dad saw you, he would have something for you. As a younger person, the fact that your Dad is constantly bringing assorted items, often from a used store was cause for eye rolling. As a young adult you and your roommate think it’s pretty awesome that your Dad randomly drops by with chocolate bars. As an adult you realize they are tangible expressions of love, a reminder that he is thinking of you—all the time. Teacher *My father was a teacher, and perhaps my very first teacher. He took great pride in having been an instructor for the military, and having received training in how to teach. How interesting to note how far a person can go and how intelligent they can become, with only an eight grade education. *In many of my memories of my father, I hear a teacher’s voice. He would teach me lessons about things big or small, and he always phrased them like a lesson, usually with a sequential steps or a pattern of deductive logic. He lectured me on the steps to properly scrub my hands. He showed me how to collect the fallen seeds from marigolds to replant next year. He reasoned with me about how it couldn’t be possible for God to have had a creator himself, therefore solidifying the lesson that God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omnipowerful, in a way that a four year old could understand. Giver *Dad was incredibly generous. He would give you the shirt off his back. Really! He literally tried to give me the shirt off his back at least once, when I had complimented his shirt. *Despite the fact that Dad grew up in a time when 5 cents would buy you a movie ticket to a double feature he didn’t hesitate to make sacrifices to provide Sara and I with special experiences or luxuries such as big school trips, modeling classes, new bikes, back to school wardrobes. Dad didn't have a lot, but what ever he did have he would share, and he was always willing to go without to provide his children with more. *Dad was also generous with his time and energy. The most memorable thing a parent can give a child. He tried to make our time with him extra special and I have so many happy memories of our weekends together. It seemed like he always had something special planned like a ferry ride to Wolfe Island, an afternoon at the local Amusement park, or simply walking downtown to pick out a little treat at “Biway” , or a book from the used store! We spent a lot of time together at the park, where he taught me how to play tennis and baseball, how to skate. Then of course there were our special summer vacations, including trips to Orillia to visit Uncle Don and Aunt Jeannette. Sentimental * My father was a very sentimental person. He always kept artwork and artifacts of his children up in his home. when I was quite young I made my father a friendship pin. He pinned it to his jacket, and wore it for years, if not decades. As coats and seasons changed, he simply transferred the pin. * He spoke tenderly of his sister Doreen, who lived with a developmental disability. * He spoke nostalgically of the group of Palestinian refugees he had the honour of supervising while in the Middle East. * Dad never tired of speaking and bragging about his children. One thing I can say for certain: you never doubted that Dad loved you. The past ten years have been difficult and trying, but I would not exchange them, given the chance. By the end of the 90s, it became apparent that Dad was not doing well. The only viable option at that point for a not-quite 20 year old, or a 16 year old, is to take a step back, to attempt to maintain some healthy boundaries. Teenagers are not equipped to know how to cope with a parent showing early signs of dementia. But there comes a time—there came a time, when it becomes our moral and social duty as a citizen and as a family member, to try and do something, anything, whether or not the person wants our help. When our family decided we had to intervene no one could have imagined the extent of Dad’s illnesses. We had to adjust our anticipated results, and learn to accept what was, rather what we had wanted it to be. And so, Dad has been in a nursing home for almost ten years. A terribly long time to be incapacitated. It has not been easy on any of us, most of all Dad. In the early days and years he was aware enough to know and resent the limitations. It was hard to bear witness to, but we stood fast in the knowledge that we were doing what was right and best for him. We would have rather have had Dad a bit angry, then not have had him at all. Buried in the trials there were treasures. I am so thankful that in these years he was able to participate in activities with his retired peers—bingo, parties, excursions. He was cared for, attended to, and part of a community. We have all been so appreciative of the wonderful, personalized care he received at first Bradford Place and then, Woodhall Park. On top of this, he was able to get to know his son-in-law Narius, and find a fellow Blue Jays enthusiast with whom he could ‘talk shop’ with. He was able to hold his grandsons. And I discovered an unexpected gift: a second chance to know and to love my father. What began as the most traumatic and painful experience of my life, has ended up as one of the most transformative and strengthening experiences. These past ten years have given me the chance to view my father in a whole new way, to experience the “twilight years” of his life. Freed of the fear and uncertainty that came with my father’s illnesses, I was free to just love him, as he was. And so, the past ten years have not been easy, no. But they have been nonetheless, ten years that we have had with Dad. Personally, it has afforded me some time and space to make sense of my father’s life, and to forgive. Last week, I heard a powerful quote: “forgiveness is letting go of the hope that the past could have been any different.” How true that is. And with that in mind, I would close by sharing with you: Lessons I Take from my Dad’s Life: Comical, Critical Spiritual.  Most of the best music was made in the first half of the 20th century.  Keep your old clothing; those rust coloured corduroy bell bottoms did become fashionable again!  Re use things. Who says a milk bag can only hold milk?!?  If you drive an unreliable car, take the back roads, no matter how long the trip.  Find treasures in second-hand shops.  Save things that may be useful one day, but don’t save too much.  Don’t try to replace people with things.  Be fully present in the life you have right now, rather than regretting the past or dreaming about the future.  Don’t ignore problems – yours or others.  If someone who cares about you tells you you have a problem, listen to them.  When someone you love is struggling with a problem, have the courage to try to get them help. If they can’t or won’t hear you, have the strength to be ok with that.  Be blind to colour.  Think of others, especially those in need.  Remember the widow in the temple and give according to what you have. No gift or offering is ever too small.  Cherish the mentally disabled for the gifts they hold within.  Sing. It’s beautiful, and it makes others happy.  See the evidence of an intelligent creator all around you.  Tell your children that you love them and are proud of them often.