On the day of the eclipse, April 8th, 2024, at 11:09 pm, our father, Edward George St. Hilaire, passed in peace and palpable love while surrounded by his three children, Darren, Lana, and Wanda. Dad was 85 years of age.
Ed’s French roots impacted the lives of his children and the inextricable DNA of our ancestors is woven through our perspectives on life. Edward is predeceased by his father Alfred Joseph St. Hilaire, his mother Elizabeth LeBlanc, his sisters Simone Glemas and Gilberte Perreault, and his brothers Paul St. Hilair and Gabriel Sinclair. Edward was the last of the St. Hilaire Seven thus ends an era.
In Ed’s early work life as a new father he became produce manager at Loblaws. He then spent the rest of his working years in printing sales. Ed loved the inner workings of a print shop and held veneration for the many types of paper that were used to create products for his clients. As a perfectionist, his attention to detail was surpassed by no one. Mid-career, he started his own printing sales business, Decco Commercial Vinyl & Printing.
From searching for the first crocuses of spring to mimicking the meadowlarks of summer, Dad’s deep love of nature imbued his children with curiosity and a profound reverence for planet Earth’s beauty. We all find solace sitting at a lakeside, around a campfire in the woods, or watching the first snowfall of winter. Dad’s awe of the natural was also passed down to his grandchildren and it is a pleasure to see their connection and respect for the animals, plants, and wonders of Gaia.
One of the rarities of Ed’s life was his insatiable thirst for learning. Many octogenarians are content with the knowledge they’ve gained over their lives, but this was not the case with Ed. He was forever reading articles, listening to talk shows, visiting the library, and asking his children endless questions about the nature of humanity and reality. Harboring a high intelligence, to the end, Ed wanted to improve his mind and relationships. He wanted to do better. Deeply philosophical, in lucid moments while in decline, he still articulated snippets of wisdom.
In spite of never leaving our continent himself, Dad followed our journeys to foreign soils with enthusiasm and genuine interest. He was content with armchair travel through our eyes and was as excited as we were about our voyages abroad. Above all, his favorite pastime was spending time with his adult children.
Ed had a mischievous and playful side, teasing and nicknaming. He loved repeating tired old jokes and one-liners and his laughter will never be forgotten. He leaves behind six grandchildren - Ty & Colby Sorensen and Addy, Adner, Jacob, & Juven St. Hilaire – as well as three great grandchildren - Aniah St.Hilaire and Shaedon & Jekari Baxter. He was always retelling adorable stories and repeating funny comments from the grandchildren and loved each ones’ uniqueness. With his extended family, Ed was famous for his marathon phone calls that meandered from one subject to the next. He cared to the core about all of the family and asked for updates on everyone; not only of his nieces and nephew and their progeny, but our mother’s family as well. He considered Mum’s British Boyton clan salt of the Earth people.
Throughout our adult lives, Dad would often make comments on things like the eye popping shade of blue we wore or he’d tell us we were having a good hair day, but he would also encourage us to pursue things we are naturally gifted at or drawn towards. Dad instilled in his children a sense of independence, non-conformity, and respect for the material. From him we learned the value of a strong work ethic and the sense of accomplishment of a job well done.
Music filled our home as children with Dad strumming his guitar, banjo, ukulele, or playing the fiddle while singing everything from Hank Snow to gospel hymns. His passion for music ran deep and colored every aspect of his life. We offspring inherited a musical thread that runs through our blood with music and song imprinted in our souls.
Without question or debate, Ed St. Hilaire’s most cherished value in life was freedom. Growing up in the small French community of Courval, Saskatchewan, his early life and teen-hood was one of a wild child. He reminisced frequently of the crazy things he and his cohorts would get up to and he could never digest the ever-increasing loss of freedoms he witnessed in our turbulent world. His fondest memories were of those carefree days and innocently reckless nights.
Edward and Dorothy married in 1960 and divorced in 1994, but as time passed, Dad spoke highly of his only wife’s redeeming qualities, her uncommon common sense, and in the later years he conceded that she was right about almost everything. He lived alone for many years afterward and played the game of life to his own unique beat. We find comfort in knowing he felt he had lived a rich and rewarding life and his Catholic upbringing left footprints on his path to God.
Sovereign for decades, when the prospects of recovering from sepsis meant living within the confines of someone else’s rules and regulations, he declined further medical intervention and chose to slip away naturally from this world. When questioned by the hospital professionals on his choices, he quoted a song he truly lived by“I did it My Way.”
In his last quiet days when words were few, his son Darren played from YouTube the old songs Dad used to sing around the kitchen table, easing Dad’s mind, body, and spirit. In his final hour, his children played the hymns he used to sing. As a single tear made its way down his cheek, Dad let us know he heard all. It was a sacred moment as he let go of this life to go to his next one while Don Ho softly sang “I’ll Remember You.”
And Dad, we will.
Until We Meet Again
Until we meet again,
we will remember all that you are.
We will see you in a field of Saskatchewan prairie gold.
We will feel you in an old song.
Your joy will find us with the beating of a butterfly’s wings.
Until we meet again,
the world goes on,
but we will remember all that you are.
When we sit under the willow, we will cherish her as you did.
When the haunting cry of the loon crosses the lake, we will pause, recalling you.
In the whistle of the wind, we will hear you sing.
Until we meet again,
Time will pass and detours will daze us,
but we will remember all that you are.
In the scent of the pines on a forest walk, we will reminisce of journeys with you.
When the world roars, we will remember your cries for freedom and peace.
With the strum of a guitar, we will hear your voice.
Until we meet again,
We know you are washed clean and made whole in the light of God’s love,
and we will remember all that you are.
Wanda St. Hilaire
It would be our pleasure if you felt comfortable using this space
to contribute your comments or stories as you remember Ed with us.
SHARE OBITUARY
v.1.9.6