Dear Mister Ortbals,
I will cherish every minute spent in your company. From the sad times, when you cried over your Mary Jean, to those last ‘cream cookies’ I brought you last time I spent a few nights there with Donna, without realising, they’d be my last.
Years filled with so many memories, thank you for giving them to me.
You, Donna and I, watching the ‘Wheel of Sh*t’ (I can still hear you saying it…).
The Huntington bank never-ending supply of pens you’d give me (still have them).
The yummy ginger cookies and marshmallows you used to buy, and always offered me.
Your comments to Donna about me being a hard worker as you’d watch me clean Mary Jean’s kitchen. Something I did every time we visited. It was my way of honouring her, and taking care of you. I am so glad I did.
Of course, I never forgot to lower your kitchen blinds and make sure the deadbolt was on whenever we’d be leaving after visiting you. You taught me well.
It always amused you when I’d return from a walk around Royal Oak with a squirrel count as to how many I’d seen.
Your garage and basement were filled with a Daddy-essence. Comforting to someone whose dad was their only protector in life.
On the day my dear father departed, in September 2023, we were on our way to visit you. Seeing you, another dad, was comforting. You told me how sorry you were.
Thank you for everything.
Whenever I watch ‘The Pink Panther Strikes Again’, it will be imprinted with your spirit and essence, and every time I get to the ‘does your dog bite’ scene, I will hear you laugh.
You chose to depart on my dad’s birthday. I had asked him to come and help you, maybe he did. After all, he too left on a Saturday afternoon. I can picture him walking in, and telling you ‘Fred, it’s time, Mary Jean is waiting, let’s go. No more pain, no more old age.’
Thank you for being another male presence in my life.
When Christmas comes around, it will be your birthday I will remember most. Always.
I love you, Alannah
