Memorial for Elsie E. Wray

The Swing
A Memorial for my Mother-In-Law

Elsie E. Wray
July 11, 1912 - February 17, 1989

The Toronto Star

Wray, Elsie Ellen - At Toronto East General Hospital, Friday, February 17, 1989 in her 77th year. Elsie Wray wife of the late Alvin Wray and the late Edward Rickard. Loving Mother of Edel Edwards and John Rickard. Dear Grandmother of Warren, Wendy and Jamie.  The family will receive friends at the "Humphrey Funeral Home - A. W. Miles Chapel" 1403 Bayview Ave. (south of Eglington Ave. East) from 7-9 pm on Sunday and 2-4 and 7-9 pm on  Monday.  Funeral service and committal complete in the Chapel on Tuesday morning at 11 o'clock followed by cremation.  As expressions of sympathy donations to the Heart and Stroke Foundation, 477 Mt. Pleasant Rd. 4th Floor Toronto, M4S 9Z9 would be appreciated.

The Eulogy by
Grandson Warren Edwards
Tues., February 21, 1989

This is a sad day for all of us...however, in the end she didn't suffer.  She went relatively quickly, as was her wish.  That was our mucking about.

Each of us has our own meaningful memories of Elsie.  In most cases, probably too numerous to count.  Which is understandable as she was a very giving, caring and yet stubborn individual.  If it wasn't giving her time and effort knitting socks for people, it was trying to bring you up when you were down or just trying to help you make sense out of a mixed up world.

As well as a day to be sad, this is a day to be happy and conscious of her being...for Elsie has touched us all.  Some of us in different ways than others.  But it is not the ways that is important,  it is just the fact that she has touched us...because the effect that she has left on us, lives on in each and every one of us.  As time goes on we will not forget  these affects in every day life.  Therefore we should rejoice because Elsie's spirit goes with us no matter where we go or what we do.

Rest In Peace Nana, We Love You.

The Swing
The dry leaves of autumn fall
blanketing the rolling hills
in a carpet of crimson and gold.
On a knotted old swing
hung from a tree in the park
she lazily swung to and fro
like the pendulum on the grandfather clock
that stands at home in the hall.
Her feet scuffed in the warm brown earth.
Her head was lost in the clouds.
As I stood behind an ancient elm
quietly  watching her,
I thought of how young she looked
and how small
For just one moment
I longed to step inside her mind,
to see the world as it appeared
only through her eyes.
Was it memories or was it dreams
that coaxed that serene little smile
to her face,
a revelation of such innocence and openness
that in this unguarded moment
left her soul exposed.
Her eyes raised to mine and connected
in a bond of understanding.
Unvoiced, unspoken, yet recognized by both
the truth...
Little girls never grow old!!
And I said a silent prayer
that someday I too
at the age of 72
would find grace
on a swing in the park.

ęD.W. Rickard 1989

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