Eulogy

Archibald Walter Moulder

November 30, 1910 – October 8, 2001

~~~

Delivered with Love by his

loving daughter, Holly

Thank you all for taking time out of your busy lives to share this day of remembrance with us. 

Dad was a farmer in every sense of the word.  One of my earliest memories of Dad was of him coming home after a long day in the field – I guess he had been doing summer-fallow.   Of course we didn’t have the luxury of a tractor with a cab so, needless to say, he was not quite as clean as when he had left that morning.  I can still see him coming through the door – his face black as coal with white eyes that had been protected by goggles and a big gleaming white smile on his face.  He clapped his hands and stretched out his arms beckoning me to give him a hug.  Being a typical little girl, I shrieked at the sight of him and ran the other direction.  Of course, that was exactly the response he was looking for and he laughed.

Farming is not easy, as many of you know.  I could never understand why anyone would choose this as his life’s work; long hours, the many disappointments, the unpredictability, and all too often, minimal rewards.  It wasn’t until much later in life that I grew to understand the joy of working the land, planting the crop, nurturing it and the satisfaction of the harvest.  As children, we used to love taking meals out to the field at harvest time.  Mom would make a huge roast beef dinner complete with mashed potatoes, gravy and apple pie.  Off we would go to the field with the various pots wrapped in blankets in the trunk of the car.  We would sit on the tailgate of the truck and have what to us, as kids, was a “picnic”.  I’m not so sure Dad thought of it as such, but I know that this was a time in the middle of the day that he looked forward to where he could rest and reconnect with his family.  This was Dad’s favorite time of year.  How fitting that he should be called at this time.

After Mom passed away, we were concerned about how Dad was going to manage.  In the beginning, he took turns spending time at each of our homes, as the loneliness of being in his own home was too much for him to bear.  In time, and with the encouragement of friends, the seniors group and the church, gradually, he started to build a new life.  Eventually, he became very active and we were hearing him say things like, “Well, I have to be back by this day because I am bowling.”  or, “No, I can’t come then – I have floor curling that day.”  It was wonderful to see him enjoy his life again.  I especially want to thank those people who were instrumental in getting him involved in these activities.  It enriched his life tremendously.

How do you measure success?  This is a question we each must answer for ourselves.  Dad was a hard-working, kind- hearted man with simple needs and wants, being never impressed by flashy cars or expensive possessions.  Success and pleasure, for him, was his family.  This was never more evident than when the grandchildren came along.  With each birth, he opened his heart and shared love with every one of them.  He had what seemed to be endless patience no matter how rotten they were being.   The bond between a Grandparent and Grandchild is a very special one.  Dad always had time for them.  There was no rush, no demands, and no expectations.  They could be whatever they wanted to be – do whatever they wanted to do, and it was just fine with him.  When the kids were with Grandpa, they too enjoyed the simple things.  Playing in the “forest” next to his house, picking and eating raspberries out of his garden or counting the pennies in the little wooden box that Grandpa has saved for them. 

I remember as clearly as if it were yesterday the day I left home to move to Edmonton.  My little red Volkswagen beetle packed to full capacity.  I hugged them each goodbye and jumped in my car – I was very excited to start my new life in the big city.  As I drove away, I looked in the rear view mirror and I can still see them standing together on the hillside by our old house, waving goodbye.  At that time, I did not fully appreciate what they must have been feeling.  They had spent their lives raising and nurturing their family, and I know that they sacrificed a great deal so that we, their children, could have opportunities that they were not so fortunate to have.  They must have felt a sense of satisfaction that they had successfully raised each one of us and one by one set us free to start our own lives.  As they watched their last child drive away, there must also have been a feeling of emptiness and sadness and perhaps a feeling of uncertainty of “Now what do we do?”

The tables have turned.  Dad is now in the driver's seat.  He said his goodbyes and I am certain he is excited to start the next leg of his journey.  As he looks in his rear-view mirror, he will see us all standing on the hillside waving to him.  We are proud of his accomplishments and appreciate all that he has brought to our lives.  It is now our turn to set him free.  We wish him well and hope that he finds the peace and happiness he deserves in his new life.  We love you Dad and we will miss you.

In reality, we lost Dad five years ago when he had his stroke.  So much time has passed that it is hard to remember the man as he was.  He was robbed of 'quality of life' on that day, and each day since has been a struggle.  I hope the pictures I am sharing will remind you of who Archie Moulder was, and also, that these are images and memories that you carry with you.