Ronald Frederick Coles

We miss you, Dad, your smile, your whit, your encouragement, your love of tea, your provision, and the spring in your step. As we begin to analyze what impact you had on our lives, all the little stories surface. I will play a song from your life album, just a glimpse of who you are and what your story holds. We’ll see where the music takes us.

Dad’s story starts in London, England. Dad’s father, Henry Coles, was called “Harry”. He fixed radios. Dad’s brother, also called “Harry” had straighter hair than Dad and was older. His mom’s name was Jessie. We called her “Nanny,” and “Mum” was the spelling of anything Dad had labelled concerning her. She maintained a heavy accent throughout the years, unlike Dad. Jessie had 3 sisters, and 2 brothers: Jennie, Eileen and Sheila, and Percy and Bert, in London.

Jessie and Dad grieved as they first lost Dad’s father, then Dad’s brother five years later. Dad lived in London through WW II. Even though the air raid sirens blasted, they did not always go down to the underground shelter. He remembers being on the top of a building as the war planes blazed above his head.

Dad recalls being sent away from the city into the countryside as a child for a time and that fruit was scarce. Having a single working parent, Dad didn’t always get up for school so he missed part of his education.

Jessie met and married George Gillies, a Canadian soldier at the time, and came over on the “Aquitania” to Halifax, Nova Scotia, through Pier 21. The next leg of the journey was a train ride all the way to North Battleford, Saskatchewan. He was just about 13 years old.

Dad involved himself in all kinds of sports and recreation. Photos show him in baseball, tennis, skiing, and curling, as well as hockey. In later years, he developed his sport hobbies and love of being outdoors, he walked, washed the car, mowed the lawn, played golf, and continued to curl.

Dad enjoyed being social. He went to a nearby church for a youth choir group where music started to become important to him. In midlife, he picked up a guitar. He enjoyed dancing with Mom. He made mixed tapes off the radio, and recently reclaimed playing records.

At 21 years old, he finished school (lots of catch-up from childhood and his new surroundings). Upon a suggestion, Dad decided to take up a career as an RCMP officer after trying out a few local jobs. He was stationed mostly in BC, with one posting in Yorkton, Saskatchewan. He met Doris Griecken in a cafeteria line, on a course for Ident, in Ottawa. Dad was smitten with Mom, and she became the love of his life. They married on January 29, 1960. His last posting was in Richmond, BC. He retired from the Mounties after 25 years, but still needed to find work to support the family. So, he scoured for a job, and found a position as a sheriff with the BC Courts. This was a difficult transition. Dad had to train, running the track with a stopwatch to achieve a desired time. He was much older than others applying, but he made it. He enjoyed the courtroom part of his job. The long drives to and from Vancouver were wearing on him.

Dad’s parenting style was the "softie" at our house. If you wanted a yes response, you asked Dad. He liked to keep photos in his wallet and top dresser drawer of us kids. He gave simple gifts. He made the news once and called just in time for us to turn on the TV to see him dusting a licence plate. Only one chance to see that. No VCR's or ability to rewatch anything unless it was a rerun.

Dad made his holidays our family trips, minus Mom and Dad's second honeymoon to Hawaii. As a family, we ventured down to the States: California, Nevada, and Arizona. On one trip we went all the way to Tijuana, Mexico. Dad did so much driving. There were flat tires, mirror adjustments, tent and tent trailer set ups and take downs, signal light checks, and plenty of neck rubs.

He leaves behind...his children: Ron (Candace), Brad (Alysha), Lisa (Gordon), Krista (Steven), and his grandchildren: BRAD - Justin & Sheena LISA – Rachael, Naomi, & Mateo, KRISTA -Thane & Haydn, and his great grandchildren: JUSTIN - Calysta & Jordan.

Dad made visits out to see each of us as we spread out our wings and took flight. He watched children graduate, marry, and have their own families. He provided advice, and stayed in touch. Dad walked both of his daughters down the aisle and was the first person to hold the last grandchild born, Haydn (my daughter). He followed our ups and our downs. He celebrated and he grieved. With our battles, he cheered us on.

When Mom and Dad decided to retire, they bought land and built a house together on Vancouver Island. I remember Dad trying to frame a tricky corner fireplace. This location didn’t remain their retirement property. They returned to the mainland and searched out the perfect spot deciding Chilliwack was the place. They rented, and then bought a house when they found the right one. Their final home was in a seniors' gated community in Chilliwack. In each home, we were always welcome to visit and stay.

Dad was not a Christian man for most of his life. In his last three months or so as his health deteriorated, his life was as he himself described, “Very hard”. He mourned Mom deeply, but he maintained the ability to go on with his children as caregivers. He was open to hymns and prayers and spiritual happenings within and around him. He could express his grief and carried Mom with him.

As Dad did struggle with short term memory loss, I imagine he didn’t know what was going on medically for himself at times. He did what his body would allow him to. He got used to having medical staff in the hospital look after him, instead of being in his own home environment. While Dad was still alert and responsive, he continued to kid around, laugh, and facial grimace over hard things to hear or experience. When asked, in his extended days of hospital beds, boredom, and medications, he took up the cross of Christ as the healer for his situation and healing. His situation continued, but he had a way through it. With a new directive, he knew he could pray and be effective where he was at. He knew he was loved, and that the phrase he had chosen for the grave marker was safely stowed away and tucked into place: “TOGETHER FOREVER”. When Mom was passing, her hands began to swell and it was decided to take the rings off her finger. Dad quickly gathered her wedding ring into his clutches for safe keeping. He placed it on his pinkie finger, and there it stayed. When Dad’s hands began to swell and it was decided to take off the rings, they were taken off together and given to me for safe keeping. Together they remain.

Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.SallowsandMcDonaldFuneralHome.com for the Coles family.

Memories shared from Ron Jr.

Hello. I am Ron Junior, the eldest son in the Coles family. Thank you to everyone for being here today in North Battleford to remember our dad, Ron Senior.

The past 18 months in the Coles family has seen us weather the storm of significant life events, namely the passing of both our parents, Mom in March 2021 and Dad just five months later in August 2021. Our two beloved parents departed, in such a short space of time, leaving a void that can never be filled.

We are here today at this Celebration of Life memorial service to remember Dad, and yes, it’s currently August 2022, and so it has been a year since he left us. Initially, we had plans for Dad’s memorial to go ahead in Chilliwack in the fall of October 2021, but COVID-19 came around and hit some of our family members. So, this created road blocks to the original memorial we scheduled. We repositioned, bounced back, and here we are today to pay tribute to Dad.

Thank you to everyone that worked on setting things up here in North Battleford, Saskatchewan. A big thank you to my sister, Krista. She is always the reliable, dependable person that is crucial to setting things like this up. Thank you to the Territorial Drive Alliance Church, Pastor Dirk and the church staff and members that are assisting today.

Now, let’s remember Dad.

Dad was a father who was PROUD of his kids; at the same time, Dad was a father that his kids could be PROUD of.

When Dad was growing up in North Battleford, Saskatchewan, he was into sports. Dad played hockey and baseball when he was younger. Dad was also into curling and golf. It was good for his two sons to have such a sports-minded father and apparently we had that sports gene passed on from him into our DNA.

HOCKEY: Dad was a genuine hockey dad. He got his boys into minor hockey. He drove them to hockey games and practices, and he coached on some of the hockey teams that they played on. Dad could skate, handle a hockey stick, and shoot the puck. As a hockey coach, Dad skated right along with his sons during hockey practices at the rink, shooting hockey pucks, passing hockey pucks, and blowing the whistle for skating drills. Dad also wore a pair of the oldest hockey skates I ever saw.

I myself learned to skate at a very young age and somehow I could skate backwards better than others, so my go-to-position in hockey was defence-man. I learned all the skills of a defence-man, how to poke check and sweep check, how to body check, shoot from the point, and block a shot. I spent hours perfecting my wrist shot, snap shot, slap shot and backhand shot. But, occasionally I wanted to bring the puck from my defensive position all the way up the ice into the opposing team zone, doing my impression of a Bobby Orr rush. For a while I was having repetitive issues stick handling around or otherwise getting past the opposing team’s players, so I remember I went to Dad this one particular time for some advice on a technique to accomplish this. What he told me and what he showed me, HEY it actually worked. It was really great to have such a supportive father that was willing to participate the way he did and mentor us in sports and in many other areas of life.

My brother and I had a solid foundation of good hockey skills and we cultivated that by playing road hockey on our street almost all the time. Neighbourhood kids congregated in front of our house to play road hockey with us. Skating on ice was second nature. People would often comment that we were blessed with these natural hockey skills, but I think we had talent in this area because it was in our genes - courtesy of Dad.

I was good enough in minor hockey to wear an A for Alternate Captain and then later I graduated to a C for Captain. These were titles that I proudly wore on my hockey sweaters. The Rep team scouts came looking around for better hockey players and they came calling on me and wanted me to try out for the Rep team. Meanwhile, Brad was a year or two behind me in hockey. He played goalie position and we were on different teams and a whole division apart because of our age difference. But Brad actually made the Rep team in his division one year, and somehow there was this crazy exhibition game scheduled where our two different teams would be playing against each other. The ultimate hockey game: two brothers together on the same sheet of ice, but playing on opposing teams. I remember I got this breakaway and I was heading for the opposite net where Brad was in goal, and that’s the only part that’s a little fuzzy in my memory - whether I scored on him or he saved it. Maybe I missed the net. I’m pretty sure Dad was there at that game, and I can picture him in my mind, PROUDLY watching his two hockey sons in action.

I also remember this time when Dad and I were sitting in the viewing stands of the local hockey rink watching one of Brad’s hockey games. Dad asked me if I could go and get him a hot tea from the concession stand. I got the hot tea, in a white styrofoam cup with a lid on it. But I didn’t realize the tea was actually a coffee, as the person at the concession stand had gotten the simple tea order wrong. I gave the styrofoam cup with the lid on it to Dad and we continued watching the game. Dad removed the lid, took a sip from the cup, and nearly spit it out. Dad was a hockey fan, but he definitely was not a coffee fan. After all, he came from a British tea drinking background. Rather than throw it out, I took the coffee from him and gave it a try. I didn’t mind it, and from that point on I became a coffee drinker for life.

Of course, watching NHL Hockey Night in Canada on the TV at home together with Dad and Brad back in the old days with the classic (traditional non-expanded) line-up of NHL teams, now that was something priceless. You can’t get times like those back again. The cheering that was expressed and the commentary on the hockey game that was exchanged between Dad, Brad and myself was very typical, and exactly what you would expect from three dedicated NHL hockey fans. Of course, it was all part of the bonding experience that goes on between father and sons.

BASEBALL: Dad was also instrumental in getting me into minor baseball for a couple of seasons. I ended up playing every position in that game. At home, Dad was always eager to toss the baseball back and forth with me in the yard and we mixed it up, with improvised drills to improve my ability to catch the baseball in all possible scenarios. This was all beneficial for me - playing many positions like first base, second base, third base, shortstop, and fielder. I even played catcher for a while. Occasionally, Dad and I would go to a nearby park that had baseball diamonds where I could properly practise my batting. Dad would throw and I would hit. Then, there was this one day that he showed me how to specifically hold and throw the baseball to produce some spin on it and actually curve the pitch. I didn’t realize he knew this kind of stuff. I eventually moved up into the position of pitcher for a game, but the season quickly ended and that was it for my baseball pitching career.

MUSIC: Dad was the one who brought our first family musical instrument into the house, a ukulele. I know we kids had started playing those ivory-coloured recorders (a flute-like wind instrument) in our school music class, but now there was this ukulele, the first stringed instrument we had in the house. This turned out be the gateway instrument that led to other stringed instruments that would come into the family next, like the classical and steel-stringed acoustic guitars that would follow for Lisa and Ron. I also remember we borrowed a full drum set from someone and we set it up in the house for a while. Brad spent the most time playing on it. We did try out playing together as a family band but it never took off.

Dad would eventually take up playing the guitar when he retired. Later on, when I found out that Dad was actually playing guitar, he and I started playing guitar together whenever we managed to get together for visits, and both of us discovered we really enjoyed it. I frequently sent him guitar music books for his birthdays and we would often talk about guitar and music-related topics in our many long distance phone calls. I always wished I had had more time to play guitar with Dad. I enjoyed teaching him what I knew. We were always in practice-mode, rehearsing for our big duet. We were both lucky to have this common interest in guitar and playing music together. Something was definitely motivating us to connect on that level. It seemed like we were talking the same language and we understood each other better when we were playing guitar. There was a lot of smiling and laughing.

GOLFING & CURLING: These activities were definitely Dad’s favourites and he was always involved with one or the other. Golf season ran into curling season, which ran back into Golf season. If he wasn’t actually golfing or curling himself, he’d be watching golf or curling on TV. He’d often go golfing at the local golf course and take Mom along for company. He was regularly on a curling team in a curling league and he was usually the skip or captain of the team. There were many curling bonspiels and a few trophies. I think golf and curling are sports that require an awful lot of patience. Admittedly, they were not my style. However, I did start golfing a bit in junior high school and my first (and only) set of golf clubs just happened to be an old set of Dad’s golf clubs. Dad gave me some basic instruction and I also read a library book on golf for more information. I practised hitting golf balls at the school soccer field. I also played in one school golf tournament. After that, I never seriously pursued golf. But by that point, I had learned as much as I needed to, to survive golfing with Dad. We would go golfing together, off and on, over the years.

BOATING & FISHING: As far back as I can remember, Dad always had a boat. When we lived in Yorkton, Saskatchewan, when we were just little kids, Dad had a boat. As a family we were exposed to boating and to fishing, and as a result we became comfortable in and around boats and in and around the water.

Fishing, in particular salmon fishing in the ocean, became a priority activity with Dad. His two sons enthusiastically followed him on this path, taking every opportunity available to go salmon fishing. We were serious about it and the art of salmon fishing was carefully studied. I remember there was this book on salmon fishing in the house that we all had to read and which we adhered to. How to tie the proper fishing line knot and how to set up the flashers, lures and herring bait correctly. How to maintain the salmon rod, the reels and fishing line on those reels. These were all important details that ocean salmon fishing demanded. I recall we participated in a number of fishing derbies. For a few years, we lived in Port Alberni on the West Coast of Vancouver Island, which turned out to be the ideal location because it offered us as much salmon fishing as possible. There were many fishing trips that would start out from home in the darkness at a very early morning hour. We would drive in the dark to the nearest boat launch and put the boat into the salt water. Soon enough we were actually fishing, with our fishing rods sitting in rod holders, our lines out at certain depths and slowly we’d be trolling along. We caught salmon, rockfish, and the occasional dogfish (a type of shark). We’d be out there for hours, with a packed lunch and a thermos of hot tea. Sometimes we didn’t catch a thing. But it was still fun being out there on the water. Each one of us would share the duties of driving the boat. Dad had trained his sons in small vessel operation and he completely trusted us with the boat.

There are a few funny salmon fishing stories. I remember this one time we had our lines out, trolling right alongside the many log booms, finding our way along the those booms in a combination of darkness and thick fog. All of sudden we heard this loud booming sound. It was a fog horn and it was coming from somewhere real close. We immediately looked around, but it was no use as we couldn’t see anything in the dense fog. A moment later, something did materialize in front of us. We realized we had just come up to a massive ship that was anchored in the water just ahead of us. We quickly took evasive action, making an immediate u-turn with the boat to avoid getting any closer to this giant ship. Another time, while we were fishing out on the open ocean in good visibility and good conditions, we noticed a large timber-carrying cargo vessel moving along at a pretty good pace, but it was way off in the distance. We didn’t pay much more attention to it, but a few minutes later, we noticed the wake it had left behind. It had created these very large waves and those waves were heading right for us. Dad responded immediately by turning the boat in the direction of those waves to take them head-on. There were 4 or 5 of these huge waves, one after the other, with each one striking the boat, washing over the bow, over the windshield, and splashing into the boat - soaking each of us. The worst part was the amount of sea water being deposited directly into the interior of the boat. We were suddenly taking on inches of water with each subsequent wave that hit us. We quickly realized our predicament and immediately started bailing with a bucket that we had on board. When we got most of the water out, we used a towel to mop up the rest. We then dried ourselves off and simply went back to fishing.

There were a few other incidents that tested us. When we first started out, Dad’s boat had just the one large outboard motor and there was no additional smaller back-up motor. Occasionally, that one large outboard motor would give us issues and it wouldn’t run or start. We tried but couldn’t fix it, and basically we were dead in the water. The only solution was to grab both of the oar-type paddles we had on board and wave them frantically in the air at other nearby boats. They would come over to us to see if we needed some kind of assistance. The end result was the other boat would tow our boat using a long rope all the way back to the boat launch. A couple of times, the situation was reversed and we were the ones helping someone out by towing in their disabled boat. We didn’t panic in any of these situations, we just reacted and dealt with the situation. Dad was not the panicking type, he always kept calm and figured out what needed to be done. In times like these, he was leading by example and therefore we learned from him how to handle adversity.

Of course, it is well known that Brad is the one in our family who ended up taking over the salmon fishing enterprise and he has become a master at the art of salmon fishing.

I should also mention that there were a couple of occasions when we took Dad’s boat out on fresh water lakes. I remember at some point we kids had decided to try water skiing and Dad was completely on-board with this idea. We purchased the required equipment including water skis, tow rope and life jacket. We went out to Cultus Lake and put the boat in the water. We watched a few other boats in the area that were pulling water skiers and studied how they did things. With Dad driving the boat, and I think Mom and Brad acting as spotters, I proceeded to learn to get up on water skis. After a few attempts, with Dad gunning the boat at full throttle, I finally got up on the surface and I managed to stay up. It was all about keeping your balance and keeping the ski rope taut, then cutting across the wake and the waves from the boat. Later, I learned how to drop one ski and ski on just one ski, slaloming back and forth on the surface of the water. This was a super fun time and it was only made possible because Dad was willing to explore this new activity with his kids. I think he even took a turn himself trying to get up on the water skis while I drove the boat.

I recall another time when we were running the boat around on scenic Kalamalka Lake, near Vernon, we had a very interesting encounter. Out by a spot called Rattlesnake Point, we saw this cool little cave along the steep rocky shore, located right at water level. So, we decided to manoeuvre the boat closer to the cave and shut off the engine. With the boat in fairly close proximity to the cave, we then proceeded to check out the cave from the boat while we floated there. We couldn’t see exactly how far the cave went in, so I decided it was worthy of some further exploration. I jumped off the boat into the water and swam the short distance over to the rock wall at the very beginning of the entrance to the cave. I managed to perch myself on the rocky ledge at water level and from there I looked deeper into the cave. At the very far end of the cave was a level spot just out of the water that had a whole bunch of rattlesnakes curled up there. I looked wide-eyed at those rattlesnakes for about 2 seconds, and then I had this sinking feeling that I hadn’t really checked the rock wall I was currently perched on for snakes. I also wondered if rattlesnakes could swim. In a matter of seconds, instinct kicked in and I instantly pushed off the rock wall and swam back to the boat as fast as I could, climbing aboard in record time. Dad and the others in the boat were kind of surprised and asked why I rushed back to the boat so quickly. “RATTLESNAKES!” I explained, “That’s why.” We all laughed at that and then carried on with our boating adventure.

FAMILY MAN: At his core, Dad was a reliable provider for the family. There was no baggage that he carried that spilled over into the family dynamic. He was simply a solid father that worked hard and brought home the bacon, as they say. He also brought home his work and there were countless hours he sat at the dining room table (his desk at home) and looked through these two special magnifiers, over and over, comparing piles of known suspect fingerprints that were on file, with the unknown crime scene fingerprints he had located with fingerprint dust. This was obviously way before they had invented computer programs to do this tedious task.

Dad had no vices. He didn’t drink much at all and he didn’t smoke. He wasn’t a gambler. There wasn’t any domestic drama or marital-type disturbances that went on between him and Mom that I remember. Dad was just a plain old dependable father to his kids and a good husband to his wife. Let’s face it, there are some men in this world in patriarchal positions that for one reason or another, have let their family down. The point I am making here is that Dad was not one of those types. He was the opposite, a guy with a good heart and with good character, who knew his role as father and husband, and he stayed true to that ideal. We were very lucky to have him.

HIS CAREER: Dad was a regular member of the RCMP and he told me the story of how, in the early years of his career, while working as a young constable in the small town of Lytton, BC, he had occasion to arrest an indigenous male suspect for something he’d done and Dad had handcuffed the guy and put him in his police car. Then, someone else came along and let the suspect out of his police car and they just took off. Dad thought he’d be in a lot of trouble for allowing a prisoner that he had arrested to escape. Fortunately for Dad, the suspect was not too bright and the guy came back to the police detachment office a short time later complaining that he needed a key to get the handcuffs off. So, Dad successfully recovered the prisoner and it all turned out okay in the end.

Dad soon became a Forensic Identification Specialist in the RCMP. We simply called this the Ident Section. He was qualified as an expert when it came to Fingerprints, Photography, Motor Vehicle Accidents and Crime Scenes. He was often on call and he would get called out in the middle of the night to do his job which created some very long work hours for him. Despite this, he somehow managed to balance his work and home life.

PHOTOGRAPHY: Dad’s work in the Ident Section required him to be an expert photographer and as a result of his forensic-based training and his long term career, he developed very specialized skills in photography. When he was posted to the Vernon Detachment and I was a bit older, I was recruited or volunteered, I can’t remember which (it actually may have been Mom’s idea), to accompany Dad on his days off when he’d go into work to catch up on his workload. I would help him out at work… at first it was watching him develop film in the darkroom. Then, developing the actual photographs in the different trays of chemicals, putting these wet photographs on the conveyer belt (that led to the dryer), and drying the photographs on this great big drum dryer. I also became his measuring assistant when he’d take me with him out to certain accident scene locations where the accident had happened earlier on and the vehicles had already been towed away. But there were still the tire skid marks, gouges and other markings present on the road that had to be properly measured so he could do up a professional plan drawing of the accident scene. I would go to whatever spot Dad directed me to and hold up this very long measuring stick while he operated the transit and took the required measurements.

Dad also assisted me in setting up my own hobby darkroom around this time. It was in a cellar in our house and it had the red darkroom light and all the basic equipment needed to develop black and white photographs. Dad used Pentax cameras at work so I decided to buy myself a Pentax K1000 and I took up photography as a hobby, developing my own photos. Later, I would join the photography club in my school and took a number of pictures which ended up in the yearbook. One particular colour photograph I took of the Vancouver Sea Bus travelling in the harbour at sunset was entered into a photography contest and I managed to win a prize. Dad was a major influence in my photographic endeavours.

One special memory of Dad that stands out for me is getting fatherly advice from him in a private one-on-one verbal exchange that took place on the front porch of our house in Delta when I was about 18 or 19. I was unsure about whether I should pursue a career in law enforcement. This essentially would be following in his footsteps. He listened to me and then provided his thoughts on the matter. Coming from him, with his history of being on the job, I trusted in his knowledge and experience and appreciated his input that ultimately made my decision to move forward much easier.

Dad was in the RCMP for 25-26 years. In 1980, when Dad was retiring from the Force, I was just starting the RCMP training, carrying on the tradition that continued for me for another 35 years. Research done on our family tree revealed that we had a relative in England, Dad’s uncle, who was also a policeman.

SPARE TIME: Dad did jigsaw puzzles. Definitely a patience hobby. Boxes and boxes of puzzles filled a huge cupboard in their Chilliwack home. He mounted some of his favourite completed puzzles for display. I didn’t completely get the puzzle thing at first, but it was clear that he obviously got something out of doing this activity. Then, I did some research on the internet and I read about the benefits that are derived from doing jigsaw puzzles. They are good for your brain and have mental health benefits. Studies have shown that jigsaw puzzles can help improve visual-spatial reasoning, short-term memory and problem-solving skills as well as combat cognitive decline, which can reduce the risk of developing dementia. Who knew? Dad you were definitely on to something. I guess I’ll be going out and getting some jigsaw puzzles.

Dad was fond of going out dancing with Mom and he was not shy in getting up on the dance floor. I happened to witness this on an occasion not too long ago. Candace and I accompanied Dad and Mom to the Copper Room Restaurant at the Harrison Hot Springs Resort. That evening we had some dinner and there was live music and a dance floor. Dad and Mom got up and tripped the light fantastic. It was quite amazing to see that they still had what it takes.

Dad of course, loved of all kinds of music, whether it was a live performance, on TV, or recorded on tape, CD, or vinyl. He would even listen to a small tape recorder that he had recorded certain tunes on. He also had a small record player that he could play a collection of LP records on. He had a number of favourite artists, mainly in the country genre: the Johnny Cash, Marty Robbins, Glen Campbell, and Loretta Lynn, but he also liked Frank Sinatra. You could pretty much put anything on and Dad liked it. He was open to the music that his kids exposed him to: Elvis, The Beatles, Gordon Lightfoot, John Denver and many others.

I remember when I was developing my interest in hiking, backpacking, and camping pursuits. I somehow convinced Dad to accompany me on an overnight stay in the back country which turned out to be a primitive campsite by a wilderness lake. I’m sure Dad was just appeasing me and didn’t know what he was getting into, but we pitched a small cramped tent and got a campfire going, and dinner was cooked on a small camp stove. That night was cold. We woke up with frost on the tent, inside and out. This wasn’t exactly Dad’s idea of a warm cozy camping trip… but he went along with it. I guess I was trying to show Dad that I was capable of the future outdoor pursuits that I was going to get into from that point on.

Dad loved his sour cream glazed donuts from Tim Hortons, and he had to have his chocolate bars. He was the undisputed King of Tea and Toast in the morning. I’ll always picture him standing there at the kitchen counter near the kettle and the toaster, consuming his tea and toast right at that exact spot, instead of properly sitting down with them at the kitchen table.

Dad was born on August 16th, 1933. That makes him a Leo, astrologically speaking. That zodiac sign runs in our family. Besides Dad, his mother was also a Leo, I myself am, and my niece,Thane, is. Dad successfully reached his 88th birthday during his last days in the hospital. He turned that milestone age on August 16th, 2021. He passed away 9 days later on August 25th. I found it quite interesting that Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon, (and coincidentally another Leo), passed away on August 25, 2012 (the same month and day as Dad, but a different year). This most famous of astronauts passed away at the age of 82. Dad, on the other hand, made it to the age of 88, granted he did limit his walks to this earth.

Dad was heroic. He single handedly put out a fire in the house one time when we were kids. His reaction time was split second and he quickly and effectively put out a pot of hot cooking oil on the stove top that had ignited and caught fire. Flames were shooting up and you couldn’t use water on it for fear of spreading the hot oil and flames onto the stovetop and potentially further in the kitchen. He cleverly used the flour from Mom’s flour canister that was sitting on the counter and he smothered the fire out. He went into his “protect the family” mode and put out the dangerous fire and fuel situation before it could spread.

Dad stepped up to the plate when he was called upon to look after the day-to-day needs of his kids when Mom was absent from the house, which was very rare (such as being temporarily in the hospital for an operation or when she was having baby Krista). I remember Dad making bacon and eggs for dinner, which up to that point I had always thought was a breakfast.

One morning, in 2021, while I was staying and looking after Dad at their home in Chilliwack (because Mom was still in the hospital), I was already up making my morning coffee. Dad’s routine was quite the opposite. He typically slept in and did not get up early. However, on this particular morning, I suddenly heard Dad getting up and coming out of his bedroom. It turned out that overnight he had developed a major tooth issue resulting in a very swollen and infected gum. It presented on the surface of the skin as a huge lump or bump on his lower jaw. He had woken up and realized he had this painful affliction. He responded immediately by getting out of bed, marching like a soldier with a very serious look on his face, becoming fully wide awake, and without so much as a word to me, went directly to the phone book, scanning for the dentist’s number and started dialing. He reached their office and set up an immediate appointment to deal with this priority ailment. This all happened in a matter of a minute or so. It was just so humorous to me, and still is, especially if you knew how much of a non-early riser he was in the morning, and how slowly he normally moved in the morning after he got up. That was when I learned that he was capable of moving pretty fast for an old guy and taking action when motivated by a painful infected tooth and swollen jaw. I got him to the dentist appointment that day and it all ended well.

Dad, in his last months, with a hip surgery already on his resume and a walking cane to assist him as he sort of did his shuffle walk, suddenly announced that he was going to go golfing in a local golf tournament that was being arranged by his own gated community. At the time, Dad had not golfed in a couple of years. He hadn’t even swung a golf club during that time. He hadn’t taken any of that into consideration and was seriously determined to go on that day. It took two adult kids, Ron and Lisa, to talk him down off the ledge (his plan). We had big concerns and visions of Dad falling and breaking the other hip. It was obvious that his passion for the game was still there, but he’d forgotten his body was not fully up for the challenge that his mind was contemplating. Initially, he was not accepting of the position taken by his adult kids and he did not appreciate the debate that was happening on this topic. Reluctantly, he listened to the merits of the positions put forth by his adult kids about the potential dangers of doing this, but you could tell that he did not buy into it entirely. Fortunately for us, he had forgotten about the tournament by the time the actual day came around.

Dad grew up in North Battleford, Saskatchewan. His mother, my grandmother, was known to us as “Nanny” (it’s a British thing). We spent a fair bit of time visiting these grandparents on Dad’s side. Sometimes as young kids, we would even stay with them for part of our summer holidays which was great because they had a cottage near the lake. I was wondering if there might be some further insight into Dad by reflecting on his mother. Anyway, with that in mind, I recall Nanny and her second husband, George, welcoming me into their humble North Battleford home on a number of weekends in 1980/1981 while I was in Regina, Saskatchewan taking my six-month RCMP training. I enjoyed those visits. Dinner was always cooked by George. Nanny was very PROUD of her firstborn grandson who was now a young adult and training for the Force. She introduced me around to all her friends. It was great having these direct relatives of Dad’s that were so unique and special. I was experiencing the town and the environment where Dad was brought up. Nanny’s heavy British accent always made me laugh and smile along with her, and I developed an appreciation for English humour and comedy. In fact, that’s how I got hooked on the TV series, On the Buses, with Stan Butler, the bus driver, and all the shenanigans happening within his family and at the bus depot. The English accents in that TV series and many other comedies are actually very comforting for me to hear, as it brings me back to memories of Nanny.

Nanny lived out the rest of her life in North Battleford and is buried there with George. It somehow seems fitting that Dad passed away in North Battleford which is the place where he was raised by his mother and George. Of course, Dad’s final resting place will be with his beloved wife, Doris (our dearly departed mother), and they will now rest together in peace, in Chilliwack, B.C.

Ron

Memories shared from Brad

Welcome to Dad’s Celebration of Life.

From the age of 12 or 13 Dad grew up in Saskatchewan and so it is fitting that we have his service here. Dad was a kind man who was patient, calm and did things in his own time. Dad developed interests in many hobbies while growing up. Photography, Music, Ice Hockey, and don't forget Golf. He also enjoyed an evening out dancing with Mom.

Dad loved his family and he mentioned it to us on several occasions. He became more huggable in his later years.

My memories of Dad are many. Here are just a few. During a trip to Saskatchewan, a moose came out and was running beside the car. I sat between Dad and Mom in the front seat. I watched the speedometer go from 30 to 50 MPH to pull away from the moose. Not easy with a tent trailer behind you.

As young kids we would notice how Dad was a cautious and safe driver. But as kids, we were concerned that we were going too slow in the car when he was driving. We would watch to see if vehicles were piling up behind our car. Even today my own daughter, Sheena, does the same thing to me. My, how things are carried on from generation to generation.

There are many memories of fishing trips in Port Alberni, Parksville and Campbell River. Also special are the memories at Aunt Margo and Uncle Ray's place, when Sean was a little tyke and Sugar, their dog, was there.

While Dad and Mom were living in Richmond, Dad and I went salmon fishing near the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal. We were all set to start the outboard motor and found that there was no key available. Dad had forgotten it in Richmond. So, I waited with the boat while Dad drove home to get the key. There is a lesson here which I have tried to live by in my own fishing outings. Make sure you don't forget anything.

But I found out that we are all human and we do forget things. While staying with Dad in Chilliwack, he had to go for a blood test. Once done and walking back to the vehicle, Dad made a B- Line for the Shoppers Drug Mart door by himself. I quickly followed him as he was still shaky on his feet from a past broken hip. When inside the store I asked Dad, “You looking for a chocolate bar?" Dad answered, “Yeah.” He was after his favourite, Jersey Milk.

Dad was known for his love of food, especially desserts, which he had for most of his married life. Dad and I enjoyed many desserts while I stayed with him in his last months in Chilliwack.

I enjoyed spending time watching the Turner movie channel and DVDs, and going for a daily walk with Dad. Dad passed on his love of hobbies to his kids. And so, I continue to enjoy a love of salmon fishing, boating and music. I know Ron Jr. continues to enjoy the outdoors, music and other hobbies which Dad passed on.

Dad even participated in his sons’ ice hockey teams. I was only 6 to 8 years old at the time. I can remember Dad and Mom tying my skates at this young age. They were ice hockey parents for years and that was certainly dedication to their kids.

Dad and Mom sitting at the dining room table working on RCMP files was a common occurrence, as Dad’s workload was heavy.

Saturday nights were Hockey Night in Canada. Dad would sit and watch the game with me while we had our hotdogs and baked beans. Going out to Vancouver Canuck hockey games and going out after the game for hot chocolate and a dessert at a coffee shop was another memory.

Going to the Drive-in was cheap movie entertainment for a family back then. I VIVIDLY remember watching The Legend of Boggy Creek (a 1972 American docudrama horror film). This Sasquatch movie was pretty creepy at night for a young boy. To this day I still go to the Drive-In movies with my daughter in Aldergrove.

Dad will always be in my memories. Thanks for passing on the love of fishing, Dad.

Rest in peace.

Written by Brad and Alysha Coles

Memories shared from Lisa

A Daughter’s Remembrances of Her Father, August 8, 2022 - Eulogy

It seems like a “deja vu” experience for the four of us siblings when we reflect that it was only a brief five months between Mom and Dad’s passings. Stark death was certainly knocking on the Coles’ family door in the year 2021.

But right now, I want to “switch gears” and celebrate Dad’s life with you…there is much to praise God for.

During those tender weeks of contemplation, I re-looked at the cards that I had sent Dad on special occasions. In a note from the Father’s Day card of 2020, I expressed to Dad, “We are truly blessed as a family to have a dad like you.” My card of Father’s Day 2021 read, “Thanks, Dad, for doing all you could to make a good life for me. Thanks for encouraging me to do my best, for making sure I knew how much you loved me, and for being someone I’ll always look up to…”

My earliest recollections of Dad are of sitting contentedly upon his knee. I always felt safe and protected with him. This paternal safeguarding came into play through his law enforcement career as he ensured that his RCMP firearm was always kept in a well-hidden and secure place in our house. A location where none of us children could accidentally stumble upon it.

Another instance comes to my mind. The Coles clan was on a camping trip when I was 8 years old. A black bear came lumbering through the campground sniffing for easy food, so Mom quickly secured it in the trunk. Then, she whisked 12-year-old Ron, 10-year-old Brad, and myself into the vehicle and locked the doors. I was trembling and anxious in the back seat, hiding with fear as the bear made its debut. Meanwhile, Dad was grasping an axe, bravely guarding Krista, a toddler, who was sleeping soundly in a playpen within the tent trailer.

I would be remiss if I did not mention all the hours that Dad spent at our dining room table working on files, checking fingerprints, or doing overtime. For me, though, I could see my dad face-to-face in our home during these times. I felt his presence as he worked, and I occupied myself with school homework, watching TV, or baking. After his service in the RCMP, I later learned some of the specifics on sordid and grisly cases that he had been called to. When this came to my attention, I just had to marvel at Dad’s steadfastness and unchanging disposition. He never became bitter or hardened by the evil or sinful side of mankind that he continually witnessed. Dad truly had investigative instincts which suited his occupation. I have this same bent toward investigating, analyzing, and researching, which intuitively emerges as I teach and tutor my students.

As I give thought to Dad in his retirement or later years, I see a kind of natural progression from these aptitudes to alternate activities that utilized these inclinations that he held. His scrutinizing work in the IDENT section flowed into examining the detail of puzzles. The expert marksmanship in shooting (in Dad’s own words, “top of his class”) gravitated toward a focus on precision in curling and golfing.

I consider Dad’s lasting legacy to be his photography, his countenance, and his musical side. Dad kept snapping pictures and developing them himself as a professional RCMP photographer. This transitioned into his time off as well. Many early shots he took look like formal studio poses of us children. We have Dad to thank for all the photographs and slides of our family’s journey and growth. This creative tendency was sparked in me also and I have carried on the photographer “role” in my own family. Mateo and Rachael have shown interest in operating a camera, too, and have taken it to higher levels in their own professions.

When viewing just about any photo of Dad, one of the first impressions one receives is of his smile. He has always had a disarming and radiant smile. Not only was his smile welcoming, but his temperament encompassed calmness, patience, approachability, self-control, friendliness and warmth. Dad and I had a closeness between us. I will attempt to describe it. I knew that he possessed understanding and compassion. We really “clicked” or saw eye-to-eye on this level. Dad may have been viewed as the “easy” or tolerant parent by some of us kids, but as for me, I recognized that our connection was at a deep level as father and daughter. The bond was strong. He was there when it really counted - with a ready answer. An example of his forebearance is when I was trying to problem solve math questions at the kitchen table, or stayed up late to try and decide on a life career. All the other family members walked away when their patience ran out, but Dad didn’t. Dad gave love freely and liberally. He and I were both considered to be the “huggers” in the family.

Dad was a romantic at heart. This was not only evident in his desire to dance with Mom, the love of his life, but through the movies he watched and the songs that he listened to. He and I really enjoyed watching musicals together such as The Sound of Music, Singing in the Rain, Fiddler on the Roof, and In the Good Old Summertime.

Music was huge for Dad. His own father, Henry, was a piano player. He introduced the ukulele instrument into his mother’s North Battleford home, as well as his own home as a dad. This occurrence spurred me on to taking a guitar course in junior high school. I recollect Ron repeatedly picking up my classical guitar to experiment on. Finally, Ron bought his own acoustic guitar since the sound was “better” in his opinion. Ron eventually attempted to convince Brad and I to practise with him as a musical group, like the TV series, The Partridge Family. Brad had an acoustic drum kit for a short time and there was even a tambourine for me or Krista to play. Even though these simple beginnings did not materialize into anything serious, Dad has given us an undying love for music - whether playing it, listening to it, or just appreciating it. It is encouraging to see that music passion surfacing in Mateo and Thane.

A very precious music memory of Dad and Mom that I have is on a particular mild summer Sunday we strolled down Wellington Avenue in Chilliwack, each licking our favourite ice cream cone. Right before us, on the sidewalk, sat a formally dressed man on a piano bench. He was taking song requests on the spot. Mom and I gave him a few hymn requests. He proceeded to play “Amazing Grace” and we sang along as far as we could. That unexpected encounter totally brightened our day.

I posed this question to myself: How was I first introduced to hymns? Church, of course. Yet, there was another influence. I recall as a girl receiving a record player and records as Christmas gifts from my parents. I set it up downstairs in the basement where my Barbie play area was. I played the record…Elvis Presley, my favourite singer at the time. I treasured the record, only there was a “hymn” included on the album which I wasn’t enthused over. I thought that it ruined the album. Little did I realize that one day down the road I would prefer to listen to Elvis’ spiritually meaningful hymns.

Since Dad’s soul has passed from this earthly life to his eternal existence, I have come across his personal music books. Notably, they include hymns and songs such as:

Put Your Hand in the Hand

Kum Ba Ya

When the Saints Go Marching In

Morning Has Broken

Everything Is Beautiful

All Things Bright and Beautiful

Sweet By and By

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot

Oh Happy Day

What a Friend We Have in Jesus

Just As I Am

Amazing Grace

This Train Is Bound for Glory

Daddy Sang Bass

Crying in the Chapel

From Graceland to the Promised Land

Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen

All Things Are Possible

Dad did play some of these pieces on his guitar when he was practising music with the grandkids.

Dad surprised me on one of the days that I was in the caregiver role in Chilliwack with him, in May 2021. We were both in the kitchen cleaning up after a meal when he began singing aloud, “It Is No Secret What God Can Do,” on his own initiative. I wasn’t aware that he even knew this hymn, written and composed by Carl Stuart Hamblen. Although it became number one in Country/Pop/Gospel categories in 1950, it is not as popular these days. Famous singers from the past, like Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Ernest Tubb, Jim Reeves, and even Anne Murray, have sung it.

Interestingly, Stuart met Billy Graham in 1949 in a casual setting, attended his tent crusade meetings, and subsequently turned his life of drinking and gambling over to Jesus. His conversion was at a low point in his life, drastically different than Johnny Cash’s transformation which happened in the 1970s when he had made a comeback and was at the top of his game. The writing of this suggested hymn was by a fellow actor, John Wayne, who realized that Stuart was serious about his faith and walk with Jesus.

So, as Dad was procrastinating about surrendering areas of his own life over to Jesus, he sang out these words (of the chorus) with real conviction:

It is no secret what God can do.

What He’s done for others,

He’ll do for you.

With arms wide open,

He’ll pardon you.

It is no secret what God can do.

The actual verses of the hymn read:

The chimes of time ring out the news;

Another day is through.

Someone slipped and fell.

Was that someone you?

You may have longed for added strength,

Your courage to renew.

Do not be disheartened,

For I bring hope to you.

There is no night,

For in His light you’ll never walk alone;

Always feel at home wherever you may roam.

There is no pow’r can conquer you,

While God is on your side;

Just take Him at His promise,

Don’t run away and hide.

What God has done for others, He can do for us, too. In another hymn, Softly and Tenderly…, Jesus is calling us earnestly to “Come home” to Him. As a line of the song explains, “Though we have sinned, He has mercy and pardon, for you and for me.” The hymn writer, Will Thompson, asks us, “Why should we tarry (wait) when Jesus is pleading for you and for me?”

In Dad’s case, he put off getting into a “right” relationship with God until the last minute. It was down to the wire. What is it going to take for any of us to receive Jesus into our lives and when? A heart attack, a stroke, a tragic accident… An American author, Joni Eareckson Tada, who became a paralytic at 19 years of age following a diving accident, is known to have stated, “I’d rather be in this wheelchair knowing Him (Jesus), than on my feet without knowing Him.”

There were numerous “God-encounters” for Dad along the way in his life. Certainly grief as a young boy - losing his father and his only brother, and hiding out in London bomb shelters during WWII was a way to grab his attention. Once in Canada, he then had exposure to God through a young people’s group choir at Third Avenue United Church in North Battleford. As a married man and father, he witnessed his own wife, Doris, and also myself, his daughter, become a part of God’s family as Christians, in 1980. In the early 1980s, Dad and Mom, and I went together to Trinity Western University to watch the Joni movie which was about her authentic story of coming to Jesus after her paralysis. In 1984, while I was living in-residence at Vancouver General Hospital School of Nursing, Dad and Mom, and Krista joined me in attending the Billy Graham Crusade at the stadium in downtown Vancouver. There were also weddings and baby dedications that Dad attended. He had listened to me personally tell of my short term missionary service in 1987 and 1988. Dad was there at the church for the missionary commissioning service of Gordon and I to Russia in 1999.

In Dad’s later years, there are specific spiritual opportunities that also come to mind. He would attend Mom’s church as a visitor on special occasions. I remember attending the Christmas Eve service in 2018 with Mom and Dad. The sermon that Pastor Lunderby delivered had a salvation message that was so clear. I made the point of contacting Mom’s pastor a short time later to obtain a typed copy of the sermon for Dad to keep. I delivered it to Dad in Chilliwack and we looked it over together. I also gave Dad the gift of a Bible not too long after this; it sat in the end table, next to his recliner chair. Dad appreciated Pastor Lunderby’s presence and prayers at a very vulnerable time, the week that Mom passed into the arms of Jesus. After Mom’s death in March 2021, I recall Krista, Dad and I arising one Sunday morning to listen virtually online to Thane share from the Bible at a church in Saskatchewan. I also had time with Dad in his home before he left with Krista and Steven for Saskatchewan in June. Together we watched the actor, Steve McQueen’s life story and his Christian conversion before he died of lung cancer. We listened to a sermon on CD called, A Guided Tour Through Heaven, by a well-known radio minister, too.

As you can see from my extensive list, God can give us a limited number of chances to come to Him; but for clarity sake, they are not endless. The one true God’s invitation to salvation and family membership is not a “last rites” tradition, a “ticket to heaven,” or an “escape from hell,” as some of us may think. It is about becoming God, the Father’s son or daughter, a willing, obedient, and loyal citizen of His kingdom, agreeing with Him about our inherent sinful nature and receiving His forgiveness and new spiritual life in the Holy Spirit. An absolute “free gift” from Jesus without a “reward” that we somehow try to earn.

Before Dad or Mom became seriously ill, I had a chance to share a sobering true story with Dad. I read him an excerpt from the 2019 The Book of Signs by Dr. David Jeremiah. On page 151 and 152 it reads:

“Old Harry was a stubborn man. He had become a legend in the Pacific Northwest. Though he was warned repeatedly that his life was in jeopardy, he just laughed. Red flags and danger signs are often ignored, and Harry, well, he was just a picture of that kind of person. He lived at the foot of a quiet mountain.

At least, the mountain had been quiet for 123 years. Sometimes she stirred to spit cinder and ash or drool lava from her cavernous crater. Occasionally she looked down steep snow fields and rumbled a muted threat to the people who explored the lush forest and mountain meadows below. Some thought Bigfoot, the legendary giant beast, stalked her slopes. But Mount Saint Helens was seething inside, ready to unleash her force upon unbelieving admirers. She was awesome and mysterious, but only threatening to the few who understood her power.

In March 1980, an earthquake measuring 4.1 on the Richter scale registered near Mt. St. Helens in southwestern Washington State. Forest rangers were advised of possible dangers from avalanches which could trap skiers or climbers. Most folks were unconcerned. The mountain setting was tranquil as people anticipated a time for renewal. The earth was singing with new warmth.

Then on March 27th a ranger heard what he thought was a sonic boom. The mountain had erupted. Scientists rushed to assess the explosive potential of the mountain. They painted a frightening scenario of future destruction. People listened, but many could not comprehend a disaster of such magnitude. Old Harry probably read the news stories while he ate a solitary breakfast and fed scraps to his sixteen cats. ‘Nobody knows more about this mountain than Harry, and it don’t dare blow up on him,’ he bragged.

Days and weeks passed. Some became impatient with the geologists’ negative reports. People lost their concern of anything ever happening and wanted to get back to business as usual. Everybody heard the geologists say what they wanted to hear them say. They weren’t really listening to them at all.

When sheriffs’ deputies ordered all residents on the shores of Spirit Lake at the base of the mountain to leave for safety, Harry said, ‘I’m…living my life alone. I’m king of all I survey. I’ve got plenty of whiskey. I’ve got food for fifteen years, and I’m sitting high on the hog.’ Sunday morning, May 18, 1980, the mountain exploded and hurled pulverized rock and ash almost fourteen miles high. The force of the blast flattened trees, uprooting and smashing them like millions of dominoes spreading out from the crater. Steam, ash, and gases spouted from the incinerated vegetation. Mud flows flooded the rivers and transformed the beautiful mountain lands into a ghastly, charred landscape. The mountain’s vengeance was five hundred times greater than the nuclear bomb that leveled Hiroshima.

The warnings were over. There was no longer any time to run. No one ever saw Harry again.”

Dad used to tell me that he would be able to “handle” facing God himself one day, when the time came. Unlike Old Harry, Dad finally left his “mountain of resistance” before it was too late.

Here is Krista’s husband’s written account of this very pivotal day for Dad in 2021. Just over a month before he died, he experienced a “new birth” spiritually. This is Dad’s conversion story at the ripe old age of 87. Steven writes:

“On Saturday July 17th, during a regular visit with Dad, instead of listening to music, I asked him what he thought about his time alone. Dad said, ‘It’s hard.’ We talked about how being without visitors would be hard and how Mom had to do that…and how much he missed her. I told Dad about Krista’s own experience of being in this very hospital about a year earlier, and finding it incredibly difficult herself in her own set of circumstances. Leaning on God and crying out to Him was the only thing that got her through it. We talked about prayer. Then, I asked him point blank, ‘Dad, have you ever invited Jesus into your heart?’ He answered, ‘NO, no I have never done that.’ I then asked him, ‘Do you want to?’ While I was still asking the question, he said, ‘YES, I do.’ So, I said, ‘Great! Pray the words I say…’ We praised God, who is in heaven, asked for His forgiveness from sin, and then invited Jesus to live in his heart. Afterwards, I said, ‘Dad, I want to pray a prayer of praise and thanksgiving, too.’ So, I did. After that, I looked at him and asked, ‘How do you feel?’ He said, ‘Lighter, sooo much lighter.’ I told him that he would be able to see Mom and her siblings who have also accepted Jesus into their hearts in heaven. Dad then said, ‘Together Forever, Doris.’ He rested after that. I texted Krista, Thane and Haydn with the joyous news. Haydn responded before I left the hospital. Thane and Krista were at home having a conversation and responded while I was driving home. I was able to share with them at the same time. Then, I called Lisa and told her. The next day, I phoned Ron and Brad and told them as well.”

Jesus once told a parable that is recorded in the book of Luke, chapter 15, verses 1-7 (NIV):

Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear him. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the (Jewish) law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

Then Jesus told them this parable: “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbours together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not (think that they) need to repent.”

The Sunday before Dad passed from this earthly life, Krista placed her phone up to his ear upon my request. My parting words to Dad were:

“I will never forget you, Dad. This is goodbye for now, but not forever. I can’t wait to be with you and Mom in heaven with Jesus.”

Your Devoted Daughter,

Lisa

Memories shared from Krista

My dad loved me and I knew it. I don’t have a way to describe it, but I knew it.

Dad would bring me home little notepads used for fingerprinting. He made the effort to give me simple things to advance the cause for creativity.

Dad spoke to me and gave me cause to do things in my life. He taught me to drive, then worked with me to pass the driver’s license test.

He assaulted the huge land mass called our yard. Mowing over the years to present a family paradise; front and back greens for us, his children to play on, and later grandchildren continued the trend.

Dad bought a boat to waterski and fish from. A journey to go on in summer months always presented itself. California dreaming was the ticket. But in reality the trip was accomplished via the really, really long car ride through the States - until we got there. Stops were made for flats, mechanical repairs, unexpected stays along roadsides, and adventures through towing outfits that could quickly, proficiently and cheaply fix the car or tire - par for the course. Along the way, we developed the habit of camping, cranking up a tent trailer or pitching a tent each summer. We enjoyed the water, the sunny long days of summer and early fall.

A coconut came home with Dad and Mom from the Hawaiian Islands, on their long awaited second honeymoon. Dad returned with a tan and Hawaiian shirts to match.

When I was grown, done with Disneyland, the trips took form in Nevada and Arizona without all of us. Home trips to see us kids began as grandchildren sprung up and parents aged. All through this Dad supported Mom, and Mom supported Dad.

Many people settle down into retirement. But Dad and Mom were busy finding the ultimate retirement property, home or to build. This was their plan fulfilled until they could not care for all the aspects of one.

I remember moving out of the basement suite on the mainland, leaving Dad and Mom to move my furniture to their home on Vancouver Island. Dad tasked himself with mending two items that broke in transit, a framed mirror and a section of wardrobe.

So Dad was… Mr. Simple, Mr. Gift, Mr. Teacher, Mr. Mower, Mr. Holiday, and Mr. Build It and Fix It.

Dad supported our family all through that time with jobs that took him deep into traffic and the big cities. I don’t remember the smaller venues as much, as I was too little or not born yet when our family resided in these.

Dad researched finding a car for me. He listened to what kind I wanted and helped me finance that car, as well as two years of Bible school. He aided and abetted with care packages, letters, cards and a monthly allowance for me while there at CLBI in Camrose, Alberta.

I watched Dad care for Nanny (his mother) and I missed my parents when one or the other flew out to take care of Nanny or George at different times during their cancer battles and loss.

Oh heartbreaking the call I had to make to let them both know of my own cancer diagnosis in 2017. Oh the hugs from Dad as he began to miss us, with the miles between us as each one left home.

Oh the excitement of being in a house where a baby would be born, and holding that baby granddaughter minutes after she had arrived.

Oh to see Dad be the Proud Father as he offered to purchase whatever I wanted after delivery. Later that day, he brought me an ice cream twister reward - a simple gift.

In the same visit he fingerprinted his granddaughter’s little feet, the Ident Man.

Dad loved to take photos. This was another outlet of his character. It captured the moments in stills, the Photographer Man.

Music played at the Western Development Museum from the bandstand one visit, and we saw the Dancing Man. His feet and legs skipping in the grass behind us. Oh the battle later after a long life lived, grieving his soul-mate but still able to sing and tap his feet from a hospital bed, secure in where he was going - to meet Mom in Heaven.

Dad had struggles in his life. These served to make him stronger. As a child, I saw a bit of Super-Hero Man as he came home in his yellow stripes and badges. Dad met his second dad, George Gillies in London. George was all attired in his soldier’s uniform. I’m sure as a boy of 12, Dad must have seen many uniformed men in 1945 and prior.

Dad got very sick back in 2013 with blood poisoning. After this illness he was changed - weaker with some memory loss. He became a Simpler Man, but one able to start taking direction from a higher power and able to lean onto others for wisdom or help. No more dance moves for Dad, for a time came in 2019 when he fell and broke his left hip. He got back on the horse though, and rode, that is walked again, with the determination and stamina of a Regina-Stampede Man.

Then there were these two great losses: the loss of Mom and the slant of his health - two of the hardest losses. At this, Dad decided to change his loss for JOY and his mourning for DANCING. The Music Man eased his mind and his spirit with some songs from his youth and some songs from his LORD.

“SING PSALMS, HYMNS, SPIRITUAL SONGS AS YOU PRAISE THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART.” (from the Bible, in the book of Ephesians 5:19)

Krista

Memories from Sheena

Grandpa

My grandfather was a very loving man. He was a Calm, Quiet, Compassionate and Non-judgemental person.

I remember one time on the Island in Parksville we were visiting over the holidays. I was complaining about my hair, that it was too curly and thick. He turned to me and said, “At least you have hair!" We all burst out laughing. I will always remember that.

I was the first of five granddaughters. I was very proud to be his granddaughter. He was a good listener even though I would change the subject pretty fast.

When I was younger, I was very scared of the dark. Sometimes I would have accidents, but I knew that I could always go to Grandpa at night because he was up. He never scolded me or yelled at me. He never judged people. He accepted them as they were.

When my brother and I went over during summer vacations, we had fun. He would work on puzzles with me, play games or watch a movie. When Grandpa got older, he got into working on puzzles on his own. We had that in common. He also asked me throughout my life about my interests and hobbies. He was always interested in his family.

One thing my mom and I want to thank him for especially is his respectfulness toward our Faith.

Sometimes it's hard to express how much a person really means to you. I love you Grandpa and I always will.

I look forward to seeing him again as the Bible says in the book of John 5: 28 & 29, “Do not be amazed at this, for the hour is coming in which all those in the memorial tombs will hear his voice and come out."

Love, Sheena