My earliest memories of Cyril are from my elementary school years. Cyril lived just down the road from our house. Every time there was a school fundraiser, Cyril’s house was one of the first places I’d go. I’d pack up my backpack with chocolate bars and make my way down the steep and narrow road to Cyril’s small white house at the very bottom of the hill. He always bought 3 or 4 bars, which made him my favorite customer. “I’ll give these to my grandsons”, he’d say, as he handed me $8 in exchange for the bars. He’d proceed to ask how my parents were doing, and how my grandparents were doing. He had very thick white hair and very tanned skin. His face was friendly, and his voice was loud, but gentle.
Another early memory of Cyril was his garden and his apple trees. He had several apple trees which were often the target of late night raids by some of the older kids. They would climb up those trees and get as many apples as possible, often breaking several limbs in the process. I didn’t give it much thought at the time when I heard kids talking about it, but now it kinda makes me sad that they didn’t respect his property.
Almost two decades later, I married Cyril’s grandson, Steve. I soon learned that the friendly old man who lived at the bottom of the hill was much more than just that. It didn’t take me long to start loving Cyril like my own grandfather.
I learned that Cyril had been a very hardworking man all of his life. He spent years working long hours in the woods and living in the old camps. He had only attended one half day of school in his life, but he was very bright and very wise. He and his wife Elizabeth had 10 children. Cyril lost his wife very early, when she died suddenly in her late 40s. He never remarried. He finished raising his children on his own, and then lived by himself in his house until he was 85. He loved to grow things and put a lot of time and effort into making his garden just right. Apple trees, and flowers of every color and variety. Almost every evening, he’d walk up over the garden to Steve’s parents’ house to have supper with the family. Sometimes he’d participate in the dinner table conversation. Other times, he’d turn down his hearing aid (I guess so he could eat in quiet!). He’d usually sit at the table for a little while after supper was finished, then put on his hat, and make his way back down through the garden again.
What I appreciate about Cyril the most was the impact that he had on my husband. Steve practically grew up down over the hill with his ‘Pop’, constantly by his side, absorbing every word and action. Cyril taught Steve how to fish, how to grow things, how to make things, and countless life lessons. He spent hours sharing stories, passing on his experiences and reflections. It’s easy to see that Steve has held on to each and every story and lesson that his Pop shared. Steve not only inherited his Pop’s physical features, but also his strong and silent personality, his love for the outdoors, his practical knowledge, and his sense of self confidence. As Steve stated, “Pop was quietly confident and as steady as the sunrise”. And I can see all of these qualities in Steve. It’s what I love about him.
Cyril died on January 21 2009, at the age of 86, after a short battle with pneumonia and finally a stroke. His death was quick, and his family was by his side when he took his last breath.
Since his death, I’ve been thinking a lot about life and death and the footprints we leave, or don’t leave, behind. Cyril left his mark, and has truly made the world a better place. I hope I can be like him, and take the time to share, love, teach and give something back.
I didn’t thank him for buying all those chocolate bars, and I didn’t tell him how much I appreciate the influence he had on Steve and on me, and will likely have on our children and our grandchildren. But I don’t think I needed to. He wouldn’t have wanted any thanks. It was just who he was.
He will be deeply missed.
Donations can be made in memory of Cyril Ings to the Heart and Stroke Foundation of Newfoundland and Labrador.
