Catherine’s father, Grant Miller, died on Friday.
Grant’s obituary contains this wonderful phrase:
This peaceful and modest man had a deep appreciation for the wonderments and beauty of nature, delighting in his collected works of art and wood-carvings.
I can think of no better way to describe him than as “peaceful and modest.”
Grant and I were bonded by a love for Catherine: we may have had very little else in common, but we had that; I know that he knew that I loved and respected his daughter, and that connected us.
From Grant I learned about service to the community, about how to be a loving father and a loving partner, about the importance of appreciating good food and good company as a complement to working hard. I may even have developed something of an appreciation for the finer points of curling.
In January, when Catherine was in palliative care, a complicated series of events led to Grant being connected to my mobile phone from his long-term care home in Ontario. Neither of us expected to be talking to the other, but we did, if only for a few minutes. And while the circumstances, for both of us, were less than ideal, that connection, born over 28 years, was obviously there.
My heart goes out to Oliver, who’s lost his two grandfathers in less than a year, and to Grant’s wife, Catherine’s mother, my mother-in-law, Marina, who’s lost her daughter and her husband in the same year.
Grant will be buried on Tuesday in Sydenham, Ontario. Time and COVID will prevent us from traveling to the service, but we will take a walk in Prince Edward Island National Park at Greenwich, enjoying the wonderments and beauty of nature, in his memory.
Marina, Catherine, Oliver and Grant, summer 2007.