Daughter's closing notes
My father believed that he had been truly lucky to have lived in the span of time that he was given, and to have spent it in pursuits that fulfilled him. He touched the lives of many through his generosity of spirit, and his art. He was, indeed, a "gentle man" with a stout and steadfast heart, and by his example he taught me.
In his last few years, with emphysema causing his breathing to become progressively more difficult, my father had to slow down, but he paced himself, remained philosophical, and kept a positive outlook. He did mightily enjoy looking back over his life and said, often, that he had done everything he had wanted to do, and that he had been given a gift not everyone can claim: the gift of peace of mind. He kept his good humour, his insight and his wonderful flair for story telling, and used his vivid imagination to recreate the times which held much meaning for him.
Words I would use to paint my father? Well, I would say that honestly, quietly, without fanfare, he was dedicated, creative, resourceful, observant, musical, good-humoured, loving, and highly self-sufficient. His solitary nature made possible unique awareness and insights that he used in his relationships and in his art. Blessed with a strong artistic sense, he had a good eye for light, shadow and tone, and an amazing gift for creating with simple strokes, both with paint and in his living, the essence of a complex thing.