Chuck's Eulogy, Sept. 17, 2009

Eulogy for Edwin Erion

Before I begin, I’d like to ask you to do something. This is for my benefit and for Ed’s grandchildren to see. Please stand up if you were married, or baptized, or had a love one buried by Ed Erion. (At least 80% of the 300-plus congregation stood up.)

The last time I was in this beautiful St Andrew’s church was years ago for an Easter Vigil on a Saturday evening that I attended with Dad and my wife, Tricia. After the service we stopped for coffee and donuts and a long talk. This became a tradition for my own family of 3 children: for years we would take them to the Easter Vigil at our church in Waterloo and out for donuts after because that is what “Grampa Ed” does.

Dad was born in Lindsay, Ontario but spent his formative years in Niagara Falls with his parents, Clare and Mina, and his younger brother, Lloyd. He also had a half-sister, Ruth. Dad’s shock of red hair earned him the nickname “Red”. Old friends continued to call him Red long after his hair turned snowy white.

After the war, he met a very pretty nurse and, as Mom is fond of recounting, they had 19 dates over 21 days and it was on the 20th date that he finally kissed her! Dad and Mom started to form a team in those 21 days and continued that way for 60 years…or it would have been 60 yrs. this coming October 12th.

They lived in Niagara Falls where I, Gord, Brad and Connie were born. Dad worked in real estate and in a law office. He was very involved with Lundy’s Lane Church, where he’d grown up. It was at a vocational workshop at Five Oaks that he felt called to the ministry at the age of 39. This meant doing his arts and then theology degrees over 6 years at Queens while working as a student minister with a 2 point charge at Batawa and Zion.

There is a book called “The Seven Laws of Money” and the first law is: if you are doing the right thing the money will follow. Mom and Dad were doing the right thing because when finances got really tight, invariably there would be a cheque in the mail from one of the congregion at Lundy’s Lane. The generosity of that church community helped them get through those lean student years and ever since they have turned that generosity back to the community. That faith in doing the right thing and not worrying about the money was a critical factor as Tricia and I started out bookstore.

As a teenager I had teeth that needed braces. My orthodontist was in Kingston, where dad spent his weekdays as a theology student. It was a thrill for me to take the bus from Batawa to Kingston on a Friday morning and visit the orthodontist, then walk to the Queen’s campus and meet dad for lunch, or even sit in on a class, and then drive back to home together. This ignited my love of academic life, and I set off for university even before finishing high school. Thank you dad.

In the early 1970s Dad and Brad built the camp at Onaping Lake. This became a much-needed retreat for the family: without phone or electricity, it was life down to basics and away from the whirlwind of their ministry. But even at Onaping they showed their generosity, constantly inviting other families to use the place if they, too, needed a “getaway”.

When they retired from Copper Cliff Dad and Mom purchased an RV and traveled. Many times they would take Graham, Bronwyn, Tristan and Becky with them to the States and then on to Regina to meet up with Jessica and David. They loved having their brood of grandkids around them. Dad would ensure that each kid had a chance to ride shotgun in the front seat of the RV. Mom would ensure that each kid had a chance to be her kitchen lackey and help with meal preparation. I wonder if this is why all these grandkids now travel a lot and are good cooks! Rileigh, being the very youngest did not get quite the same experience but was able to spend many summers up at Onaping with them. Again Mom and Dad would show their generosity by insisting she bring some friends up with her so she would have playmates her own age.

The death of his two sons, Brad in 1979 and Gord in 1991, had a profound impact on Dad and all of us. He had conducted all of his children’s weddings, but never expected that he’d be conducting their funerals as well. Then in 2003 he was called again to do the funeral of his son-in-law Willi, Connie’s husband. At each time his community grieved with him and he would be their comfort.

[this paragraph was accidentally omitted at the funeral]
I have to tell you something about bereavement, something dad was an expert in, as you well know. I felt that my own grieving for Brad, Gord and Willi was prolonged because I didn’t get to see their bodies after they died. With dad, Connie & I both realized that we needed the experience of washing his body before the funeral home started their work. This turned out to be one of the most profound experiences of my life. Mom, Connie and I spent around 40 minutes washing him and saying goodbye. I was struck by the fact that our physical bodies are temporary – “remember o man that thou art dust and to dust thou shall return” –but that his soul had begun its journey to another plane.

A couple of years ago I was ‘blessed’ with the chance to share his war time memories while he and I visited the Canada War Museum in Ottawa over the Father’s Day weekend. As a teenager in the 60s -the era of the Vietnam war, I was strongly opposed to war, and also resented that my father’s generation had found their male identity so readily in a military uniform. But at the War Museum I got to hear dozens of stories that he’d never told, and gained a deep respect for what dad and his buddies had done, some of whom did not return.

Another blessing: In early 1990 I came across an event listed at the Five Oaks Retreat Centre called Finding Our Fathers. I asked Dad if he would be willing to go and he said yes. Once we got there and mingled with the other men, I was amazed to find that I was the only one there with his father.

We did a clay sculpture exercise to shape something that represented our fathers. Ed made a pair of lungs that he wanted to give to his father who had died of emphysema. Whoa! It turned out that my dad was searching for his dad, and it suddenly struck me, that my issues about not having enough time with him had to go back another generation.

When Tricia and I were here for his birthday back in July, I asked him if he was thinking about stepping back from his full-time commitment to the church in Chelmsford.
He smiled and said no, he hoped that he could do it for another 3 years until he turned ninety. I teased him, saying “Dad, you’ll die with your boots on.” He said “I hope so.”
And he got his wish. God bless you dad for all the ways you have blessed me and all the people gathered here in your honour.