My Dad, Ron Southernwood, was born in Estevan Saskatchewan Canada to my Grandparents Doris (nee - Jepson) and Oliver Golden Southernwood in 1929, and passed away yesterday January 3, 2007, of a heart attack.
Dad was an active young boy growing up, and loved camping and fishing trips all of his life. He was blessed in having four aunts (my great aunts nee Jepson - Hilda Vigsbol, Lil Jepson, Elsie Jepson, and Elizabeth Henderson) his maternal grandparents, and his Uncle and his family. They were all with Dad through his formative years. Grandpa Jepson would later become instrumental in Dad's life.
Dad joined the Air Cadets and I remember his thrilling story of a ride in a Tiger Moth bi-plane as part of his training.
His Dad (Ollie Southernwood) joined in the fight against the Nazi invasions, and returned after the war a changed and damaged soul. What he saw he could never deal with, and turned to alcohol to blunt the pain and try to forget.
Dad never shared this with me, but I learned from Aunt Hilda that Dad would often have to go to the local pub and pull his Dad out before the paycheck was all spent buying drinks for his buddies.
Grandpa Jepson took my Dad under his wing so to speak, he became a guiding influence, and gave of his skill and knowledge of Masonry and this would eventually become my Dad's skilled profession.
Not a mere bricklayer was he! My Dad was a stone-mason, and could take plain fieldstone, find its grain, and by chisel and mallet split that rock forming perfect faces for his work.
My Dad & Mom met in Estevan (Mom was from a little place near Lake Alma Saskatchewan) and they were married in 1957. It's so sad that Dad passed away on the 50th anniversary year of that union.
I've seen pictures of my Dad during his youth. One in particular, shows him as a dashing and handsome young man poised over a "billiard shot".
Dad's father also passed away in 1956 or 7, so I never got to see him.
I was born there in Estevan in 1958, but I suppose because of a scarcity of work, we moved to Moose Jaw Saskatchewan when I was 1 year old, and this is where my Dad lived the rest of his life.
I know there were many reasons for my Dad eventually becoming an alcoholic, but by the Grace of God, my Mom, and Reverend Ashwin, my Dad found sobriety when I was about 6 years old, and maintained that sobriety through God, and the assistance of AA. My Dad died a sober man, and for that I have much to thank him for.
My parents rented for those first few years but I remember the first house quite vivdly. The house was bought to fit our growing family, as my brother Rod was born in 1960. Then came Tracy in 1962.
By then the house was too small for us, and they bought the house that I would spend the majority of my childhood in. Laurie came along in 1964 and Jim (the surprise) was born in 1973.
My Mom scrimped and saved where she could. Dad would often have to work out of town during the week, and drive home for the weekends.
Despite the lack of money, we were always well fed and always clothed (my Mom's a GREAT cook), and although we never had all the flashy things that other kids would get, we got what we needed and even a few of the things we dreamed of from time to time.
Mind you, that meant a lot of sacrifice on Dad & Mom's part.
I guess not having everything we wanted, taught us to be grateful for and appreciate those things we got.
We were given many gifts as a result of Dad's sacrifice. I once added it up and figure they spent over $10,000 on my musical training alone.
The one thing that our family always looked forward to was the yearly camping trip. The first one I remember was to Carlysle Lake. We were in the old 56 Chevvy 4 door, and a tire went flat on the way. It was dark, and raining, and an RCMP stopped to light some flares and assist in changing the tire.
We got to the lake, set up the canvas tent in the rain, and then both my sisters proceeded to throw-up on the prepared beds because they had a flu.
Early in the morning my brother and I rose and stepped from our tent and into "boy heaven". That first step caused 10 frogs to jump, the next step 20, and the third 30 or 40. Dad took us fishing on the spring fed lake that was simply teeming with yellow perch. You could dangle the hooked worm and watch them bite 10-15 feet down, that water was so clean and clear.
After some seismic testing that spring closed up and the lake shrunk to a fraction of it's original size, so we started going to Meadow Lake Provincial Park, and continued going there every year as a traditional family outing (even when many of us had left home) right up until it became too difficult for Dad and Mom. Dad had suffered a massive heart attack about 8 years ago, but survived the ordeal with a valve replacement and a triple bypass.
Our family would also gather every Christmas, and this past celebration we were blessed to have everyone together for the first time in many years. All my brothers and sisters were there, along with all the grandkids.
There were 29 of us seated around that Christmas feast table, and after seeing the tears in his eyes as my daughter Katie played Christmas songs on the piano, I knew this was a special Christmas for Dad.
As it turned out it was also his last, but it's a blessing that we were ALL there to share it with him and Mom.
Dad leaves behind his wife Wanda (nee-Mickler) Southernwood, two sisters, Marge Hughes and Iris Eggen, 5 children (Tim, Rod, Tracy, Laurie, Jim), 11 grandchildren (Nicholas, Sarah, Mark, Denis, Jonathan, Alex, Braeden, Mila, Katherine, Nicole, Loren) numerous cousins, nieces and nephews, and many many friends. He will be sorely missed by us all.
If I have one regret, it is that I never had the chance to take Dad to a fly-in fishing excursion (one of his dream adventures), but as a good friend consoled me, when I next see Dad it will be in a very special place, we'll be flying in together on our own angel wings and the fishing will be as good as that first year in Carlysle.
I'm going to miss my Dad a lot until that time, but with God's help and the assistance of my family and friends I will make it through this tough time to the point where my grief will be gone and only the happy memories remain.
I am so grateful that I had that last chance just a week before his passing, to hug him and say I Love You Dad. THANK GOD for that!
And thanks to all of you for sharing this abbreviated journey of my Dad's life with me.