Memorial Service

The following are memories and tributes of Tom by his Children and Children's Spouses.

Janet Taylor

Do You Remember?

Do you remember, Dad, teaching us how to ride a bike? With one hand on the back of the seat, you tirelessly pushed us around the front lawn. Then without us knowing, you let go, and we were pedaling all by ourselves. The bikes wobbled from side to side, but you shouted words of encouragement that kept us going a few more yards. Do you remember? I do.

Do you remember, Dad, when you came home from work each night and we all eagerly ran to greet you? You always had a treat for us. Sometimes it was a packet of Chuckles or Neckos or sometimes a pack of Beeman’s gum. You made a game out of it, and we had to search your pockets until we found it. Before you even had a chance to sit and relax, we jumped all around you, pleading, “Take us swimming! Take us swimming. Please!” Minutes later we all piled into the station wagon, some of us sitting on the tailgate with feet dangling over the edge, as you drove the short distance to the lake. As soon as we arrived, we kids all ran into the water with you not far behind. If other kids from the neighborhood were there, you became the most popular dad at the lake. Standing in water to your waist, you were surrounded by the kids who shouted, “Throw me! Throw me!” And you picked them up high out of the water, one by one, and threw them in all directions. They laughed and laughed and came back for more. Do you remember, Dad? I do.

Do you remember, Dad, our annual trip to see Santa Claus? We got all dressed up in our holiday clothes and rode the rapid transit into the city. You met us at the station and took us out to a fancy restaurant with white tablecloths. Then we went to the big department store and stood in a long line to see Santa. There at the end of a corridor in his throne sat Santa, big, fat, and jolly, and we believed in all of his magic. Next we went to buy Mom a present. The store was so festive with its bright lights and Christmas music playing in the background. The salesperson carefully wrapped Mom’s slippers or scarf or perfume in holiday paper. Weary, but content, we left the store and walked the 10 blocks or so to your office. You proudly showed off your children to your employees who spoiled us with their attention. Finally the day ended, and we followed you to your car. Many people greeted you along the way, and we thought that everyone in the city must know our dad. Do you remember? I do.

Do you remember, Dad, the summer days in June spent at The Cedars? You took all of us at once fishing in the boat. Sometimes you let one of us steer, and we headed to a place as you said, “guaranteed to have a school of hungry fish.” Each of us had a rod with a wiggly worm on the end, which you had baited. After lowering our lines, you patiently taught us how to hold our rods and keep the worm off the bottom of the lake. We kept our eyes glued on the red and white bobber, and when it bounced on top of the water, signaling a nibble, you told us step by step what to do. Then holding your hand over ours, you helped us jerk the rod to secure the hook and thus a catch. After we reeled in our fish, you netted it, and we watched as you expertly removed the hook, put the fish on the stringer, and lowered it into the water. We peered over the side of the boat to watch our fish, and we felt so proud. Of course, the next day we had fish for breakfast, and you always said, “It’s the best-tasting fish ever!” Do you remember? I do.

Do you remember, Dad, Easter mornings when we woke up and found a clue that the “Easter Bunny” had pinned to the foot of our bed? When we were really young, you read aloud each clue, which eventually led us to the dryer or bathtub where an Easter basket laden with chocolates and jellybeans lay. When we were older, the clues took us away from the house and we had to jump on our bikes to go to the lake or the mailboxes. Do you remember, Dad? I do.

Do you remember, Dad, walking each of us girls down the aisle, the proud papa with tears glistening in his eyes? You must have known then that you did your job very well, for there we were all grown up, happy, and successful in our own way. Do you remember? I do.

My dearest Dad, I treasure each of these memories and more. Even after we all grew up, you continued to make memories for our children. I love you and will hold you in my heart always.

My Dad…the first man I loved, and the first man to love me. He taught me about love. So, if I had to sum his life up in one statement it would be: My dad knew how to love. As best as any man is able, my dad modeled what our Scriptures tell us what love is in 1 Cor 13:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.”

Learning from Dad, whether it was how to ride a bike, waterski, drive a car, or how to enjoy life to the fullest, are fond memories. Not once did he make me feel he didn’t have time for me or that he was frustrated with me. And he always celebrated my success. Dad never tried to change me. He accepted me just as I was. He was always trying to help me and he never treated me harshly, even when I deserved it. He did not draw attention to himself or consider himself superior to others in any way. He treated all my friends with respect and sincere interest and everyone was at ease with him.

“Love is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.”

Dad had only my best interests at heart. He always gave me the benefit of the doubt. And when I disappointed him, he was never quick to contend and he kept no record of my past failures or weaknesses to use against me. He never embarrassed me, and always affirmed me.

“Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Dad was never complacent, but concerned whenever I strayed from God’s principles in my life. Yet, what joy he expressed when I came back, when I found peace and joy in my life. I always felt safe with Dad—both physically and emotionally, he entrusted himself to me, he was always confident in God’s ability to work in and through me, and never gave up on me.

“Love never fails.”

Dad fulfilled God’s purpose for his life—to love much. In doing so, Dad was faithful in pointing me to the love of my Heavenly Father for which I am forever grateful. And because of this, I am confident that I will once again see Dad’s smile, hear his heart, and feel his arms around me.

“And now theses 3 remain: Faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love”

I love you Dad!

"I do not feel that I'm betraying him for laughing, for loving, for
becoming whole again. It is because of him that I've come through the
grief as a person stronger, more courageous, and less superficial than
ever before. It is because of his wit, his warmth, his intelligence, and
his unique mind that I can move forward, looking back in love. It is
because of him that my children have a strong memory of a grandfather who
was very much involved in their world. It is because of him that I now can
look back with the warm thoughts and tender feelings of a life that was a
gift to me".

Here's to you, Dad. I love you always.

Ann also created a moving tribute to dad in a slide-show presentation, which will be available on this memorial site soon.

His life example has always shown me to work hard, spend time with the family, have little worry and keep a positive outlook on life. We would be in the middle of a week long rain event at the cabin and he would look out in the sky and see a brief sun break and say, “Hey look at that, it looks like it’s clearing up” even though we were days away from sunshine. He was always looking on the bright side. Well now I think he is definitely on the bright side of his journey shining down on us.

We loved our vacations with him where we started the day with coffee on
the dock, a morning swim (where he would always give me a hard time since
I had to go down the ladder instead of jumping right in) and then a whole
day of boating, lounging on the dock and visiting with the family. Tom was
the BEST grandfather. He patiently took off dozens of fish each day from
Blake’s fishing pole. He played countless games of Rummy and Cribbage with
the kids. You could always count on Grandpa to buy you an ice cream cone
in Magnetawan. Courtney and Blake adored him and he made them feel special and loved.

Tom was a special man and we feel his loss deeply. I am so grateful that he was Bob’s Dad...what a wonderful role model for Bob and what a privilege it was for me to know and love him.