It is difficult to put into words the relationship of a parent and child. It is a relationship that changes and grows over time. Head chef; first-on-the-scene paramedic; coach; cheerleader; chauffeur; bank manager; mentor; teacher; friend. My dad was all of these things and more. Growing up my dad coached many of our teams. He was an athlete and it was important that his kids learn the skills, confidence and sportsmanship that come with being part of a team. He took great pride in all of our athletic abilities. Baseball and hockey later turned into rugby and golf. My dad enjoyed watching Bill play rugby and attending the Lindsay Rugby Football Club’s home and away games. He loved to play golf and he and Allen spent a great deal of time on the golf course. I’m told he was becoming quite the lawn bowler lately and he and my mom both curled. Our house was always grand central station when we were kids and later as teenagers. Friends were always coming and going and my parents felt that based on the grocery bill, they must be feeding the whole neighbourhood. Everyone was always welcome and the front door was (and still is) never locked. There were many sleepovers, intentional and otherwise, and my dad never batted an eye. I think he loved having a house full of people and friends seemed to gravitate here. My dad was generous to a fault, and would give you the shirt off his back. My cousin Laurie once told me that she was stuck out west, had no money and needed to come home. My dad answered her call and told her to get on a plane and he would take care of it. My dad would always ask - did we need $20.00? We never paid for a meal when my dad was out with us. He covered many a round at The Grand and door-to-door canvassers did well to come by when he was home. It was very important to my dad to be a good provider. He worked hard, and often drove long hours to and from work. In the recession of the 1990s, when the construction sector had suffered major job losses, my dad too was without work. I remember he took a job driving a taxi in Lindsay, often into the wee hours of the morning. As you can imagine, driving a cab in Lindsay wasn’t the most lucrative of positions and the fares could be few and far between, but he did it anyway. It was important to him to provide whatever financial support he could to his family. Not many things brought more joy to my dad than seeing his grandchildren. We would try to visit every couple of months and spoke often on speakerphone. My dad would say, “Hiiiiiiii Lucas, it’s Poppa Stan. I have Milo and Max here and they say hello.” This would be followed by, “Hiiiiiii Baby Emily.” Liam always knew that Poppa Stan was good for a trip to Dairy Queen and a handful of change for his piggy bank. I have learned that it’s difficult to fully understand the depth of love your parent has for you until you have a child of your own. That, Stand in Front of a Bus, Go to the Ends of the Earth, Can’t Put Into Words kind of love. There is never enough time but I am grateful for the time we had. My dad watched us all graduate from college or university, walked me down the aisle and was around for the birth of his grandbabies. There is a lot to be thankful for. My dad lived a good life, and he had his house in order. We had said what needed to be said, and we loved one eachother and told one another often. I miss you dad, but I know we will see eachother again. Until then, I love you too.