As far back as I can remember my grandfather Hubert carried an old wooden and brass handled knife in his pocket. Often times I would see him sitting outside widdling a small stick with it ( or scratching at his fingernails ha ha). That pocket knife, sadly, belongs to me now.
My grandfather passed away May 25. He was 85 years old. He had been ill for a while, but was doing a lot better in the long term care facility where he spent the last 2 months or so. It happened very quickly, we were told he was in no pain.
Pop was the father to 12 children, the grandfather of 23, the great-grandfather of 27, and the great-great-grandfather to four.
I sat down and figured out all those numbers a couple nights ago because no one had ever tried to. I told my Aunt, whom was closest to him besides his wife Doris of 63 years, and my Aunt said, “Jeez, someone was busy.”
It has been a sad few days for the Poole family. Siblings are starting to drive back to their homes again, and I can’t help but feel a big tear in my heart when I look at my Nan. She’s going through a lot of things now, I really hate to say good bye.
Here’s a picture that I took for her, her request. Here are 10 of her 12 children, the ones who were able to make it to Pop’s funeral.
Writer and photographer from remote Labrador, Canada. Just another cold Labradorian chillin' in the Big Land. Can most likely be found walking my dog Grace or behind an iMac screen slowly taking over the interwebs.