"The Sack"

April 23, 2003

Thursday night, April 10th began like countless other return trips to the riding over the past ten years.  All the hurried, last minute details at the office on Parliament Hill attended to, Leah and I rushed to the Ottawa airport for the flight home. 

This trip was to be especially memorable because on Saturday, April 12th I was to be nominated as my party’s candidate for the fifth time since 1988.  Thanks to a terrific team effort by my supporters, staff and our guest speaker, Vic Toews, MP, the meeting was a great success, although events unfolded that prevented my attendance. 

Calling home from Vancouver we learned that all was well, the folks had been out for supper with friends, were playing some cards, but Mom assured us she would meet our plane at the Fort St. John airport as usual. 

The next morning we stopped briefly at the office before continuing home.  Rather than finding Dad at the breakfast table as expected we discovered him still in bed, comatose. 

Rushed to the hospital by ambulance, he never regained consciousness and passed away peacefully early Saturday morning. 

The next week was a blur of constant activity and little sleep as the family gathered from near and far to grieve and plan the funeral.  I had no idea there were so many details requiring immediate attention.

We wanted the display of memorabilia at the church to include things like a golf club, curling broom, and a deck of bridge cards to reflect the leisure activities he loved most.  A selection of pictures dating back to the photo of him in his World War II air force uniform were carefully assembled from the many family albums.  And there was much discussion around the kitchen table about what type of container was most appropriate for his ashes. 

Recalling Dad’s frugalness meant not spending hundreds of dollars on an urn that would soon sit empty.  Various suggestions were offered and discarded until we finally agreed on a burlap sack.  Over his lifetime, Dad had lifted and toted thousands of sacks containing seed of one type or another. 

First Leah and I would walk to the store to purchase the jute.  Then Mom would line and sew it into a small bag.  My youngest brother, Don and his wife Shauna, would use their computer expertise to design the appropriate iron-on label, and finally Jerry would bring some wheat from a bin at the farm to place around the plastic container in the sack.  It turned out perfectly.  Despite serious misgivings, all five of us “kids” were able to speak at the service and I think we would have made Dad proud. 

Sometime this spring my brother Jerry will take Mom up in his powered parachute to spread Dad’s ashes on the farmland he loved, overlooking the beautiful Peace River valley.

On behalf of my mother, myself and my family, I want to express my deepest appreciation to everyone for the incredible outpouring of support that provided so much comfort over the past couple of weeks.  Thank you.