Granddad's Memorial Service

Here is Granddad's obituary, mostly written by my Aunt with input from Mom:

https://obituaries.thestar.com/obituary/dr-barent-landstreet-jr-1092502209

His Memorial Service was held on January 2nd at the retirement community that he'd been living in with Oma. They have a lobby downstairs that is large enough to accomodate a gathering. It was held here because they wanted to make sure that family could make it, as well as friends and neighbours that were local to the community.

 It was a Quaker ceremony. I knew that we had some ancestry, but honestly didn't know it was immediate enough to count as our nearest faith system, at least on that side of the family. I liked it though. Quakers don't plan speaches, so they celebrate in silence, allowing anyone that feels compelled to talk to briefly say what's on their mind.

There was a very slight irony that the person explaining the format read the bit about not having planned speaches from a piece of paper.

I didn't quite have it in me to talk. I'm comforted a little by the sentiment that we were able to support with our silence. I wonder if my quietness comes from my Quaker roots.

I'll share a few of the thoughts I had while I was reflecting on my relationship with Granddad during the service. Nothing too profound.

I remembered waving to each other all the way until he was out of eyesight after his visits to Guelph.

I remembered that, during a road trip to see my Great Grandmother in Philedelphia, he was playing an audio biography of Beethoven. As an adult, it wasn't too sad, but it had some melancholy beats. I asked him and my mom why they would listen to something they knew would make them feel bad. The answer I got was that it was "sad in a good way" and when I said that didn't make sense, I was told that "I'd understand when I grew up". Well, I'm grown up now and I do know. I think this was the first time I considered that there was merit to life outside of happiness.

He was the reason I used to listen to classical music when I was trying to sleep as a child. I had insomnia and it helped.

I remembered that when things were hard when I was in high school, and our households were not speaking. We'd email each other and rendezvous somewhere for a meal and to catch up.

He's probably the only reason I had any real familiarity with restaurants before I became an adult. 

Here is a display in his honour set up at the service.

After the ceremony, we took his ashes to High Park. He used to run there regularly, as it was in his neighbourhood previous to retirement. I used to go on hikes with him there. My aunt gave the family 20 jars and invited us to either scatter them or take them home. After some thought, I figured that I didn't know which was a better way to honour him. So I chose a tree to scatter my bottle under, and Lee-Anne kept hers.

I thought that, because he was sociable I should put it somewhere that he could see people moving by. I found a spot near a walking trail and river, overlooked by this tree.

 

I also took note of a memorial bench nearby, just because those are always distinct and unlikely to be moved. A way to make sure I could find my way back.

He neighbours Marjorie and Stan Collinson. There's an engraved quote that says "Memories are precious, life goes along, fill it with caring and love"

Maybe not hyper-specific to our family, but it fits and it's a nice sentiment.

Mom thought similarly and split the difference with the ashes she was given, scattering some and taking some home. She says she wants to spread some near where they're currently living, and some near mine and Lee-Anne's place.