A tribute to my father, Eric A. Svendsen.

Eric A. Svendsen in front of a cold war era plane, a submarine hunter - the Neptune.

My dad, Eric A. Svendsen, was born in 1932 on a farm in Stettler, Alberta.  His five brothers and two sisters grew up working the land and appreciating what you can achieve through determination.  He, like my uncles, joined up with the Canadian forces.  Too young for the second world war and too old for Vietnam, most of them did not see much in the way of combat, although one of my uncles served with the United Nations in Cyprus.  Papa, as we called him growing up, and Pop later on, served his country for a total of 23 years in both the airforce and the army.

He became a navigator of larger aircraft.  Stationed out of Gander, Newfoundland, he flew in Neptune anti-submarine planes looking for foreign U-boats off our eastern coast.  He met my mom there and eventually married her.  They eventually moved to Ontario where they had three children; I am the oldest and have both a brother and sister.  In 1977 at the age of 45, he retired from the armed forces and moved us all out to Alberta.  It wasn't long before the economy turned upside down and he lost everything he had worked for.  The family was struggling as well with serious issues, and he soon found himself out of work.

His commitment to family and the belief that hard work and determination will pay off brought him through some very tough years.  I have always appreciated how he persevered when many others would have faltered.  It is difficult to imagine how he must have felt; his generation was never given to sharing thoughts and feelings.  I believe he did the best he could with what he was dealt.  What more can be asked of someone?

My dad's number one physical attribute is his height.  At six feet six inches tall, he towers above most in any room he enters.  He always enjoyed watching me attempting to procure something from an upper shelf, stretching to my limit even when standing on a chair.  He would stroll over, taking only a few strides to cover whatever the distance was and reach well beyond my augmented grasp with ease.  The funny part about this is that he continues to do it today.  He just loves being tall, although the scars on top of his head could make you believe it is not always such a great asset.

My mom developed pancreatic cancer and passed at the age of 65.  He looked after her to the end; she died at home.  Pop was not sure if remarriage was for him, but a loving lady, ten years his senior, changed his mind.  They had three great years, but then she developed Alzheimer's.  Three years later Mary also passed, and at home where he cared for her.  Then came the whirlwind called Roberta.

If ever there was a woman to be his equal in spirit and determination, it was her.  My dad phoned me to tell me the news about their upcoming nuptials.  She took the phone and told me, and I quote, "Your father is an honourable man."  Truer words were never spoken.  They married and traveled the continent.  My dad's passion was driving.  He could drive for 48 hours straight, although Roberta wasn't fond of the notion.  Whether it was a Sidekick, Towncar, or their class A diesel pusher, he was often found behind the wheel.  I enjoyed traveling with him when I was young as it gave me a chance to spend some one-on-one time with him.  

After ten years of a wonderful partnership, Roberta also developed pancreatic cancer.  Again, as before, he looked after her until her time was up.  She did spend a few days in hospice, at her request.  Looking after the dying was getting harder for him.  Being an octogenarian was challenging enough, let alone one with a pacemaker and congestive heart failure.  

Today he is with Janet.  Theirs is a unique friendship.  They enjoy each others company and look after each other.  My dad has always enjoyed the company of a lady, and Janet is certainly that.  He fell and broke his hip two days ago.  She was there to get him help and has stayed by his side through it all.  Yesterday he had surgery and today he is up doing physio.  He will meet this new obstacle as he has met all the others.  One day he too will pass.  But it is not today.  No, he still has a fight in him and there is little that will prevent him from pressing on.  'Way to go, dad!  'Way to go.