Obituary of Glen Oddan

BIOGRAPHY ODDAN ~ Glen Ross Oddan passed away peacefully at the Lloydminster Hospital, Lloydminster, Saskatchewan on Thursday, May 10, 2007 at the age of 86 years. Glen will be sadly missed by: his wife Muriel Oddan; five children: Margaret (Gordon) Bleakley and their children Ron (Colette), Dawn (Trevor), Alex (Jay), Susan (Harvey) Payne and their child Neal, Diane (Doug) Sproull and their children Heather and David, David Oddan and his friend Rita Elliot, Graham (Heather) Oddan and their children Kamryn and Robbie; five sisters: Alma Maves, Shirley (Jim) Renyolds, Rhoda (Lorne) Phipps, Frances (Reid) McDougall, Thora (Bill) Burgess; sister in law Agnes Oddan , Joyce Jarrett and Margaret Knight as well as numerous nieces and nephews. The funeral service for Glen was conducted from the First Lutheran Church, Lloydminster, Alberta on Tuesday, May 15, 2007 at 11:00 A.M. with Pastor Nolan Astley officiating. Hymns sung were “Just As I Am”, “My Hope Is Built On Nothing Less Than Jesus’ Blood and Righteousness” and “Beautiful Savior” accompanied on the organ by Brenda Findlay. Urnbearer was Ronald Bleakley. Honorary pallbearers were all those who shared in his life. Interment was held at the Marshall Cemetery. McCaw Funeral Service Ltd., of Lloydminster, Alberta administered the funeral arrangements. Character Sketch of My Grandpa ~ Glen Oddan written by Dawn Bleakley I awoke to the sweet melodies, and tunes of my Grandfather’s voice ringing throughout his house, in the unearthly hours of the day. I pulled my blankets up over my head, and squeezed my pillows against my ears. It was no use; I cannot escape the notes of his songs, which seem to seep under the door and into my ears. Knowing that I was once again defeated, I pulled myself groggily out of bed, threw on a housecoat and walked into the kitchen to join him in the early hours of the day. There he was standing, stirring porridge, half shaven with Grandma’s stockings upon his ears, a clothespin stuck on his nose, singing his favourite old songs from the bottom of his heart. Now don’t get me wrong, I love to hear my Grandfather’s songs or him rehearse poetry - just not a six o’clock in the morning, on a Saturday to boot! “Good morning dear, did you sleep well? Oh I hope I didn’t wake you.” He asked smiling from ear to ear on his wrinkly old face. “No Grandpa,” I replied sleepily “I woke up on my own.” “What’s that? Ugh just hold on sweetheart while I turn this here gadget on,” he says while fumbling with the tiny knobs in his ear with his large crooked, unsteady hands. “There, now what did you say?” “I just said that I woke up on my own. I had to go to the bathroom.” “Oh, well then you had better go then hadn’t you?” “Ugh, ya” I replied walking towards the bathroom. “Skin or no skin?” he yelled towards the bathroom, talking about his specialty porridge he always makes. “Same as always Grandpa,” I yelled back, even though I knew I’d have to force it down my throat because I no longer acquired a taste for it. After waiting in the bathroom for a few minutes I flushed the toilet, then turned the taps on and off and walked back out. He had a place mat with a bowl of porridge, with what we called skin, (from the side of the pot) a plate of toast, and a glass of orange juice sitting there waiting for me. Just as I was about to sit down Grandma walked in. “Glen! Did you wake her up?” she snapped. “No, she had to go to the bathroom,” he shot back clearly annoyed. “What on earth are you doing with my stockings on your ears? And get that clothespin off your nose. You always have to be joking around don’t you?” “Grandma, it’s okay, honest besides I thought it was rather funny.” “Well, all right then ... Is that all you have to eat?” She asked looking at my place mat. “You’re a growing girl let me make you some Egg Mcmuffins (my favourite, her specialty) as well,” she said trotting towards the fridge. After stuffing myself with porridge, toast and Egg Mcmuffins I sat and watched Grandpa finish his one bowl of porridge in the time I had eaten everything else. Then he reached toward his pill case and dumped out Saturday morning’s supply, which consisted of five or so different coloured and shaped pills. After consuming those he turns around and reaches for his eye drops and inserts two in each eye. We then proceeded to clear the table, and did our dishes, which is my least favourite thing to do, but I always dry, while he washes. It’s at this time he asks ... “So how is school, chasing any boys?” “Well schools same as always, and frankly I’ve run out of boys to chase.” Then we both laughed knowing I’m only kidding. After dishes we went outside and went to work pulling down an old barb wire fence, then proceeding to roll it up, in the hot sun until noon. I was almost dying of exhaustion, when I turned around to see if Grandpa was tired yet. Sweat dripping down his forehead and his crippled body looked as if it was about to fall over with exhaustion, it didn’t help that he was wearing a long sleeved flannel work shirt, and blue jeans like always. “Do you think we should take a rest yet?’ I questioned, not only on my behalf, but on Grandpa’s as well. I knew very well from the millions of times Grandma had told me not to let him over exert himself due to his age and many medical conditions. To give a very, very brief history he has had three hip replacements, one knee replacement, one or two heart attacks, a corpultunnel surgery, and he has very severe arthritis. “You can go in if you want, but I think I’ll just finish this up,” he replied. Although I really knew he’d prefer my company and help, so I stayed outside. “See over there?” he asked, pointed to an old piece of rusted machinery. “Yes, what about it?” I asked. “Well that there is the first swather ever made or even heard of in these parts,” he explained proudly. “Really, where did you get it?” “I made and designed it myself, I’ve also built two tractors, and am working on a third at the moment.” “I knew that you are working on a tractor, and that you’ve built a lot of equipment on the farm, but I never knew you invented the first swather!” “I should have patented it, I could have been rich.” He replied disappointed he never. I wished that he would have to, then he could have lived out his dreams doing what he loves the most which is inventing, and woodworking. Instead he had to take over the homestead even though he was the youngest boy out of ten children, and he never wanted to farm. “Well it’s lunch time now, and I suppose Grandma’s worrying where we are,” he said rolling the last piece of wire into a circle. “You’re probably right,” I agreed thankful to be done. At the house we washed up and headed to the table when Grandma pulled me aside, and asked “Was he lifting anything Dawn? Did he look tired? Do you suppose it’s too hot, Oh I wish he would wear something not so hot all the time.” She asked me worriedly. “He didn’t really lift or pull to much, it’s a tad hot, but he seems able to stand it” I replied just slightly bending the truth to save Grandpa from another lecture from Grandma. But I felt guilty for lying especially when I knew it could be affecting his health, so I was thankful when Grandma asked him any ways. “Glen, I hope you were not working too hard out there,” Grandma prodded. “Oh Muriel, do you always have to go on like this? I think I know what’s best for myself,” he replied less serious than Grandma. “Well I hope you do!” Grandma shrieked quite cross now. “I’m sorry but you know how difficult it is when there’s so much work to be done.” Grandpa said more softly now, realizing her intentions were only meant to be good. It’s then that I saw Grandpa turn down his hearing aid in case Grandma had another comeback, which she never. “Well what’s for lunch?” I asked cutting in to ease the tension. After devouring another of Grandma’s home cooked meals, Grandpa and I played a game of pool, then sawed a few boards of wood for his next woodworking project. Throughout the rest of the day we gabbed about the good old days, while working on various started but not finished projects around the farm. By nine o’clock, I was relieved to crawl back into bed from the tiring day I’d had. When Grandpa walked into my bedroom wearing an old wig, one of Grandma’s skirts, and my sunglasses holding up a bowl of porridge. And he asked me “Don’t you want a bedtime snack?” Without arguing I threw back the covers hopped out of bed, put on a housecoat, and headed toward the kitchen table, where we sat and talked about how farming was accomplished sixty years ago. He would rehearse poetry and songs for me that he’s remembered since school, and tell me all the fantastic stories he’s been involved in throughout his life. To tell you the truth there wasn’t anything I’d rather have been doing. Card of Thanks Muriel and family wish to thank all those who came to Glen’s funeral and who visited with his family afterwards. The cards, the beautiful flowers and donations were very much appreciated; the words on the cards bringing much love and comfort. Thank-you also for all the welcome donations of food; it was very thoughtful as they were needed for our various family gatherings. Thank-you to Pastor Astley for his hospital visits and the funeral service which included so much of his personal knowledge of Glen. Many thanks to Dr. Chan and Dr. Kostic, and to the nurses on 3rd floor Medical and the Transition Unit, for all their good care of Glen. Thank-you also to the organist Brenda Findlay and to the Ladies of First Lutheran Church who provided lunch. The family would also like to thank McCaw Funeral Service for their compassion, support and professionalism in our time of need. Donations in memory of Glen Oddan may be made to the Lutheran Association of Missionary Pilots, the M.S. Society or Charity of Choice.