Shirley Wagstaffe
While spending time with my grandparents on my short lived vacation my grandma ran across this hilarious obituary. I loved it so much I thought I'd post if up for all to see. I hope that I will be able to put something equally as funny as this for my loved ones...
Shirley Wagstaffe died on July 25, 2005. She was 75. Born and raised in a village near London, England, she was 14 when she met Andrew, a young soldier from Yorkshire who was stationed in her village. Andrew returned to marry her after fighting from Normandy to Berlin. They were both kind and generous and funny and otherwise had absolutely nothing in common except their love for each other and for their three sons. They argued about anything and everything that came to hand, saving their most intractable disputes for family vacations in a small travel trailer a thousand miles or more from home.
When she was required to observe 'a woman's place' she did it badly to the delight of her children who could sense the danger in asking her to pretend she was second best to anyone. All her life she had a steady gaze that could stop a man from whining in an instant. She was a terrific mother, ever ready to jump into our games, resourceful and encouraging. She loved us and we loved her back.
She never studied at university but when the chance came to work at UBC she jumped at it. As assistant to the Faculty of Arts Advisor she managed the chaos of registration, steered the lost and encouraged the disheartened.
In retirement she ran, volunteered, jousted with Andrew, loved and encouraged her five grand-daughters. Andrew died in March of this year after 54 years of marriage to Shirley. She was inconsolably lonely without him.
Andrew and Shirley were not the Owl and the Pussycat, they were the Mule and the Wildcat. Now, in the their beautiful pea-green boat, they are arguing about who doesn't know how to read charts and who would make it easier to read the chart if he wasn't splashing water on it with his oars. Dear Lord it was hard to give them back. Look after Shirley and Andrew.
**from the Globe and Mail. Saturday, August 20, 2005.
Shirley Wagstaffe died on July 25, 2005. She was 75. Born and raised in a village near London, England, she was 14 when she met Andrew, a young soldier from Yorkshire who was stationed in her village. Andrew returned to marry her after fighting from Normandy to Berlin. They were both kind and generous and funny and otherwise had absolutely nothing in common except their love for each other and for their three sons. They argued about anything and everything that came to hand, saving their most intractable disputes for family vacations in a small travel trailer a thousand miles or more from home.
When she was required to observe 'a woman's place' she did it badly to the delight of her children who could sense the danger in asking her to pretend she was second best to anyone. All her life she had a steady gaze that could stop a man from whining in an instant. She was a terrific mother, ever ready to jump into our games, resourceful and encouraging. She loved us and we loved her back.
She never studied at university but when the chance came to work at UBC she jumped at it. As assistant to the Faculty of Arts Advisor she managed the chaos of registration, steered the lost and encouraged the disheartened.
In retirement she ran, volunteered, jousted with Andrew, loved and encouraged her five grand-daughters. Andrew died in March of this year after 54 years of marriage to Shirley. She was inconsolably lonely without him.
Andrew and Shirley were not the Owl and the Pussycat, they were the Mule and the Wildcat. Now, in the their beautiful pea-green boat, they are arguing about who doesn't know how to read charts and who would make it easier to read the chart if he wasn't splashing water on it with his oars. Dear Lord it was hard to give them back. Look after Shirley and Andrew.
**from the Globe and Mail. Saturday, August 20, 2005.
posted by Dawne at 9:05 a.m.
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