By Catherine Mulroney, Globe and Mail Thursday, Oct. 01, 2009
After my mother died six years ago, my father clung valiantly to his rituals and routines, determined to demonstrate he was coping and able to fend for himself.
A favourite tradition remained Sunday dinner at our place. After saying his hellos, he would loosen his tie and hand over his suit jacket for me to hang up.
Then my son Luke would ask, “Would you like a beer, Grandpa?” to which my father would respond, “I wouldn’t say no” or “A little something to wet my whistle” or “You could twist my arm,” all designed to make me groan and my kids laugh.
Just east of Reesor Road and Steeles Avenue, Toronto, Canada, Go north on Reesor Road for the entrance. Enter and the road will fork. Take the right road. Pass a house on the left. On the left, look for a tall narrow, rectangular statue of Mary, called “Our Lady of Peace”. Dad is at the base of this statue. Section 8, plot L1030. Born May 27, 1940