Farewell to a Fellow Genealogist

J. Brian Gilchrist passed away in Ontario on May 1 2014. He was a good man and a very learned genealogist. In fact he was scheduled to speak at the OGS seminar this weekend. I met Brian virtually several years ago when I was trying to find the exact location of my father's grave.

I knew what Cemetery my father was in (St. James Crematorium in Toronto) and at the age of 19 I tried to find him so I could visit. Cemetery office staff  told me that he was in an unmarked grave in what is known as Potter's Field and they did not know the exact location.  Many years later I mentioned on a mailing list that I desperately wanted to find his grave and visit. Lo and behold, Brian stepped in and offered to help.

Within 2 days I had the exact location of my father's grave and a name of the person I should contact about having a memorial marker placed or my father's ashes moved. Within a month my father's ashes were sent to my home and I arranged for re-interment in a Cemetery in Guelph where his mother, father and brothers are all buried.

And so 49 years after my father died suddenly at the age of 47, we held a Memorial Service for him in Woodlawn Cemetery in Guelph Ontario.

I cannot explain how much finding my father's ashes meant to me. I am  deeply indebted and grateful to Brian for his generous spirit and for helping a complete stranger find peace.

Farewell Brian and may you Rest in Peace. 

Brian's funeral will be held at The Cathedral Church of St. James
Diocese of Toronto - Anglican Church of Canada at 11 am, May 5th, 2014
65 Church Street, 
Toronto, ON 
M5S 2E9
and will be conducted by Sub-Dean & Vicar The Reverent Canon David Brinton OGS

Dad's Ashes

My father died many years ago. It was Christmas Day and just one month after my 14th birthday. My mother had him cremated and his ashes interred somewhere in Toronto Ontario. I was very close to my dad and had a rough time for several years.

Photo of my dad
taken one year
before his death

Several years later, as a young adult and just before I got married I decided to visit my father's grave. I knew he was in St James Crematorium so off I went. Much to my dismay I was told that he was in what we would call "Pauper's Field" and had no marker.  I was devastated. I couldn't even visit his grave and talk to him.

The years passed but I never stopped thinking about my father lying somewhere in an unmarked, unknown grave. Then one day a very kind man heard about this and took it on himself to find out the exact location of my dad's burial. He was successful! The Cemetery has records which provided a precise location for my father's ashes. Yes it was in a common burial ground and there was no marker with his name but the spot was marked with a tiny marker with a number.

While I was thrilled to finally have a place I could visit, it upset me that he had no marker to show his time on earth and for others to visit. None of my siblings even knew what cemetery he was in. After my mother passed away last year I realized I was the only person who knew where he was.

My dad was from Guelph as were his ancestors as far back as 1834. Most of his family - mother, father, siblings, grandparents, great-grandparents are buried in Woodlawn Memorial Gardens in Guelph. So I decided we had to bring dad home to be buried with his family.

It surprised me how easy it was to arrange. St James staff were very helpful. My dad was disinterred, his ashes placed in a nice urn for reburial and then he was shipped to my home. I hadn't realized you could do that!

The day he arrived at our local village post office was very emotional for me. It took 49 years but my dad was finally home with me and soon to go to his new resting place. My plan was to take his ashes to Woodlawn in Guelph and have him re-interred with his family.

Although it was an emotional time for me, there was humour in the event. When the postmistress went to the back to get my "package" she looked at the sender address (St James Crematorium), wrinkled her nose, laughed and said "Hopefully it's not what it seems!" I responded - "Yes, it's my father"

A startled look came over her face and she apologized for her levity and remark. Wanting to put her at ease (I wasn't offended), I said, without thinking, "No problem, it's okay, he's been dead for 49 years".

She looked so horrified that I realized I'd upset her even more! It's easy to forget that not everyone is a genealogist and as comfortable with death as we are.

My dad was reburied with my mother and her parents in Woodlawn Cemetery. We had a nice bronze plaque made with both their names and it is attached to the base of the stone already marked with my grandfather's name.

And so 49 years later everyone in the family has a place to visit Cecil in his final resting place.

My Missing Grandmother Found!

Recently I posted about my grandmother's missing ashes. Grandma died in Owen Sound in 1985 and was supposed to be interred with my grandfather in Guelph, and a marker attached to his tombstone. But there was no marker and the Cemetery has no record of a burial anywhere in their cemetery for her.

My parents were to be interred in the same plot. Their marker was completed and added last week. So earlier in the week I took my mother and father's ashes to Guelph for their interment. I decided that on my return home I would start phoning funeral homes in Owen Sound and look for an obituary for Grandma (thanks to readers for helpful suggestions on how to find my grandmother!)

Much to our surprise, when the plot was opened for my parents' ashes, the gravedigger found an unexpected urn. A label read "Ruth Bates" - my grandmother! But the urn was not buried at the depth the Cemetery requires and their conclusion is that someone (my uncle no doubt) surreptiously interred Grandma without notifying the cemetery. That would explain the lack of a marker, which my auntie (Grandma's daughter) swore she and her husband ordered. It seems my uncle did some digging on his own, then fibbed to my aunt about the marker.

The cemetery assured me they would not remove Grandma's urn with ashes, nor would they bill me for her interment. They have added her name to their records and suggested I have either a bronze marker added to the reverse of the tombstone, or have her name and years of birth and death carved on the front below my grandfather's.

Apparently interring a loved one without going through the cemetery is becoming more prevalent! As a genealogist I don't like this - it leaves no record for future generations, and there is no marker to note that this person ever lived. I have to be honest and say that I also think it's unethical to try to bypass paying the cemetery their fee for interment. But in this case, I'm glad that Uncle didn't just toss Grandma out the car window rather than pay the fee! At least we know where she is and my siblings and I can have her name added to the stone.

Now my mother, her parents and my father are all interred together and can finally rest in peace.

Coming Home - The Story of Dad's Ashes

My father came home yesterday. Forty-nine years ago at the age of 47, he died. After being cremated, his ashes were interred in an unmarked grave somewhere in a cemetery in a very large city.

I knew what Cemetery he was in but when I went there to visit him on my 20th birthday, I was told that there was no way to find him as he was in a type of pauper's field. Since he had no marker, the cemetery staff said it would be impossible to find his resting spot. That news was quite upsetting to me but I accepted it and went on my way.

Seven years ago a very kind and generous individual heard my story and took it on himself to investigate further. My father's resting place was found, duly recorded in the cemetery books. I don't know why staff didn't look that up for me when I was 20...

I was thrilled but didn't want him there without some kind of marker. But what to do? Move him to another spot in the cemetery? I didn't like that idea as all his family is buried in Woodlawn Cemetery in Guelph Ontario.

This month my mother passed away and the decision was made. Since Dad was born and raised in Guelph, and married my mother there, and since his parents, brothers and several sets of grandparents and great-grandparents are all buried in Woodlawn, that is where he would go.

The cemetery arranged to disinter my father and ship his ashes to me for re-interment later in Woodlawn Cemetery (now called Woodlawn Memorial Gardens) It was a very happy day for me yesterday when I picked up my father's ashes at our local post office.

49 years later, his journey is almost complete. In the spring we will have a little ceremony to welcome Dad and Mother to their resting places in Woodlawn.

Packing Up A Life, Day 2

Day 1 of packing up my mother's belongings from her apartment was over. After my brother left my husband and I stayed another 2 hours to clear out the rest of the kitchen and the bathroom. Then it was off to our hotel to shower and change for supper and collapse into bed at 11 p.m.

I woke at 3 am, unable to sleep. Day 1 had passed in such a blur of activity and frantic sorting and packing that I really didn't have time to think about the circumstances and the emotional impact this was having on us. Objects that had been precious to my mother had been tossed in the garbage. Her earrings that she purchased on each of her many trips still dangled from her earring board on her dresser. I couldn't stop worrying about what we were going to do with those earrings!

On Day 1 the Writer's Group she was part of had invited us to attend a memorial service they were holding in mother's honour on Day 2 of our packing and sorting. My brother had a lawyer's appointment so could not go but I was honoured to be asked and told them I would be there. They asked if I would read the obituary I had written for mother, and also a poem that I found in her apartment on Day 1. Mother had written the poem for her group and it seemed fitting that it be read at the Service. Mother was a very reserved woman who did not share her emotions or feelings with others but her writing gave her that opportunity to allow her inner thoughts and feelings to shine through. Her poem touched me as it revealed a part of her I had not known. So I agreed to read it. All these thoughts kept me awake from 3 am on.

The service was lovely. Each of the women in her writing group shared their impressions of Joan (my mother). It was a unique opportunity for me to glimpse my mother through their eyes, as a friend rather than a mother. Then it was my turn. As I read her poem, I was overwhelmed and could not continue. But one of the women took over and finished it. It all seemed so fitting as mother's writing was extremely important to her. Here is her poem written when she was 90:

Heaven knows what destiny is in store for any of us
I am sure that God has our fate in his hands
I believe that at our birth our death is decided
And the date is already set
No matter what crisis we may go through
It makes no difference
When our time arrives we leave this life
And no amount of counsel will change it
The devil that is in each of us
Will not be able to change this
God will prevail this I firmly believe

Poem by Joan
2007

Then it was back up the apartment where my brother and my husband were busy sorting and packing. I wanted to finish up her office files. I had to read the title of each file folder so that I could either pack it in a box destined for my home or put it in my brother's executor pile. It was quite frustrating to have to bypass opening and reading such files as "My Life", "Trip to Russia", "Trip to China", "Friends", and so on. But I knew I would have lots of time to read and share with the rest of the family once I got everything home.

Day 2 was more emotional than Day 1. Whether it was fatigue or the fact that Day 2 was a slightly slower pace, thus there was more time to think about what we were doing, I do not know. But I felt very sad to think that 93 years of living was being sorted into "keep" "throw out" or "give to grandchildren" The apartment complex was planning a bazaar in a few weeks so we added "bazaar items" to our sorting piles.

Because we had so little time left before my husband and I had to head out on the long drive home, we decided that I would also take the little mementoes we hoped to distribute to grandchildren or great-grandchildren. It would be easier to pass those items on to family at a later date. At this point our SUV was almost full. We had 11 cardboard boxes, 2 large plastic storage tubs, and some smaller items already packed and in the vehicle. Now we had to find room for 2 more boxes of mementoes.

Finally we were done. The apartment was sorted and packed. Larger furniture that we did not want was set aside for the local thrift store. Neither Goodwill nor Salvation Army offered a pickup service and we could not deliver the items ourselves. The ladies had their bazaar items and a few smaller mementoes went to mother's closest friends in the building. Her life was now packed into those few cardboard boxes and tubs. It felt very unceremonious and I had to keep reminding myself that it was simply the natural course of living and dying.

Our last stop was to pick up mother's ashes. Such a small box. It seemed surreal, less than a week before she had been talking to us and laughing. Her ashes have come home with me for safekeeping until we can inter them.

I have also arranged to have my father's ashes disinterred and shipped to me so that he too can be interrred in Guelph with my mother. He has been waiting 49 years to go home and lie with his brothers, parents and grandparents in Woodlawn Cemetery in Guelph. Now everyone will be together.

We plan a Memorial in the spring or early summer when the weather is better and my son is back from Afghanistan. At that time we can say our farewells to our mother and our father, and celebrate their lives. Because packing up a life doesn't mean the person is gone and forgotten, it is a process of moving forward through the cycle of life and death. Mother will be remembered, her "treasures" will help family to think of her each time they look at an object she once held dear and now in their possession.

And now I have dozens of boxes to unpack and many more memories to be rekindled. I suspect there will be genealogy treasures in those boxes too.