He Ran a Good Race

Brightsand Lake, SK, Canada

The phone rang incessantly at 3:00 am this past Monday. My wife finally woke me. “Someone is calling repeatedly.” I immediately knew something was wrong. It was my little brother’s name on the call display.

“Dad has passed away,” he said, voice trembling.

Dad had been in Lloydminster, Alberta, for the Walk for Life. Since I was a young man, my parents were deeply involved in pro-life work, helping young women to keep their child while providing food, clothing, and finding accommodations. To the very end, my dad fought for the dignity of all, from conception to natural death.

Indeed, if you want to know where my faith came from, it was my mom and dad. When I was a young man, I remember coming up for breakfast before school. Dad was already off to work, his Bible lying open on the table. He loved God’s Word, and quoted Scripture frequently in his letters and conversations with us, including his last email to me. The name of Jesus was not a curse on his lips, but a sweet praise. Dad never hesitated to pray over us, whether we were sick or in need of grace. Like his mother before him, the Rosary was never far from his hands. And like many in his generation, he lamented the disintegration of Catholicism in much of the West over the past generation or two.

But my dad’s faith was also tested — severely.

When I was 19, I came home one day to my dad standing at the back door surrounded by my brothers and mom. “Your sister Lori has died in a car accident he said,” tears streaming down his face. He’d just been brutally laid off from his decades-long career with Mobil Oil and now faced the unthinkable — the loss of his only daughter at 22 years old. In fact, in his last email to me a couple of weeks ago, he said, “Well, today Lori would have been 62! … Oh God, how wonderful it would have been had she lived… God knew how awful it would be for all of us without Lori. Yet it happened… Million questions but no answers.”

And that’s how dad lived for years: wrestling not only with the mystery of her death, but just years after that, the death of his beloved spouse, Mary. Mom was only 62 years old when cancer took her. He was left with a heart broken into pieces. While dad was physically healthy until he took his last breath, emotionally, he suffered terribly over the years. It was his particular cross to bear, and it was no doubt a heavy one.

This past spring, I sat with my dad at his cabin at the lake where he lived alone, and told him what a hero he has been to me; that despite these incredible losses, he had remained faithful to Jesus. He spent these last years dedicated to prayer, spiritual reading, and watching EWTN.

I am grateful to both my parents for not only teaching me the Faith, but above all, witnessing it to me. This ministry is the fruit of their love for us kids, for each other, but most especially, their love for the Lord. My dad was a regular reader of The Now Word, and often wrote to encourage me.

Dad’s funeral is this Friday, October 9th, 2026 in Lloydminster, Alberta.^[1]St. Anthony’s Catholic Church, 10:30 AM If this ministry has touched you in any way, would you say a pray for his soul? If you are a priest, would you offer a Mass for him?

I miss my dad dearly, especially since his death was so sudden. At the same time, I thank God for this great mercy that, after so many years of emotional suffering, he was taken home without the prolonged physical suffering the aged so often experience.

So, I just wanted to write and explain my absence (I gave some talks in Wyoming, USA last week). I have a meditation on the “period of peace” Our Lady of Fatima spoke of. I just need to find time to sit down and complete it amid the recent chaos. Thank you for understanding.

Dad, pray for us…

So grateful for your prayers and support.
Thank you!