In Memory of Ol' Silverback
Don Patrick Robson was born on St. Patrick's day in 1929.
When he was in his early 20's he got a girl pregnant. After she had the baby boy, she left him and my Grandfather to fend for themselves in a shack in Northern Ontario. My grandfather raised my uncle Doug and went on to meet my Grandma. They had four children together. My mom, and my uncles Darcy, Monty and Sean were all raised by my grandma Fern and grandpa Don along with Twyla, my grandmas child from another man.
My grandpa built roads for a living. Many of the roads I drove on when I lived in Devlin, were built by my grandpa. He was a hard worker and a good man.
My Grandpa quit smoking a year ago. He was up to 2 packs a day and had smoked for more than 50 years. He quit because my Grandma told him he couldn't and because he had already gave the government "too much fucking money." He still drank a bottle of rye every couple days alonf with a case of beer every few.
My grandpa read many, many books. He read at least one a day. We read many of the same ones because he would run out often and I would bring him mine, or go to the library for sales and buy stacks to bring him.
My grandpa lived just down the road from me in Devlin every summer I would walk over picking wild flowers for my grandma. I would approach the yard and see him mowing the lawn. He was always very particular about the lawn, the trees, and my grandma's flowers.
My grandpa died last night. He died in his sleep, his heart gave up.
I wish I would have went home for this summer. I was selfish to stay. I could have seen him again.
The last time we spoke was his Birthday. He was so happy to talk. I was so happy to hear his voice.
He told me he was as young as his teeth and as old as his tounge...or was it the other way around? I can't remember and it's not important.
Don Patrick Robson was born on St. Patrick's day in 1929.
When he was in his early 20's he got a girl pregnant. After she had the baby boy, she left him and my Grandfather to fend for themselves in a shack in Northern Ontario. My grandfather raised my uncle Doug and went on to meet my Grandma. They had four children together. My mom, and my uncles Darcy, Monty and Sean were all raised by my grandma Fern and grandpa Don along with Twyla, my grandmas child from another man.
My grandpa built roads for a living. Many of the roads I drove on when I lived in Devlin, were built by my grandpa. He was a hard worker and a good man.
My Grandpa quit smoking a year ago. He was up to 2 packs a day and had smoked for more than 50 years. He quit because my Grandma told him he couldn't and because he had already gave the government "too much fucking money." He still drank a bottle of rye every couple days alonf with a case of beer every few.
My grandpa read many, many books. He read at least one a day. We read many of the same ones because he would run out often and I would bring him mine, or go to the library for sales and buy stacks to bring him.
My grandpa lived just down the road from me in Devlin every summer I would walk over picking wild flowers for my grandma. I would approach the yard and see him mowing the lawn. He was always very particular about the lawn, the trees, and my grandma's flowers.
My grandpa died last night. He died in his sleep, his heart gave up.
I wish I would have went home for this summer. I was selfish to stay. I could have seen him again.
The last time we spoke was his Birthday. He was so happy to talk. I was so happy to hear his voice.
He told me he was as young as his teeth and as old as his tounge...or was it the other way around? I can't remember and it's not important.
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
Remember: He didn't go anywhere. He's with you.