Albert William John Hudson was a long name for an unassuming man that preferred to be called Ab. Albert Hudson was the fourth child of Elsie and Bill Hudson, born on a cold December day in Peterborough, Ontario. Dad spoke of the long walk to school with his older brother and sisters. The family moved to Lakefield, while he was in grade school. During that time, three sets of twins and four other siblings were born to share their three-bedroom house. Dad grew up with six brothers and six sisters! One of the twins didn't live past his first year. I used to love hearing the aunts and uncles gather and share stories of their childhood in a time before television, computers and the internet. There were stories of the boys avoiding the trip to the outhouse by opening the second-story window and peeing onto the porch roof. Winter snow gave them away. Apparently, they went through a phase of knife throwing to see if they could get the knife to stick in the bedroom door. And we thought lawn darts were a little risky growing up!
Dad did well in school and was offered to skip ahead a grade, but he knew he had to quit school at sixteen to move out and work. Dad worked at bookkeeping for a few years while living with his sisters, Sylvia and Mary. He enlisted in the Canadian Air Force to gain further training as an electronics technician. He spent two years on the ‘dewline’ - the highest northern base that monitored and handled communications in the Canadian arctic.
It was shortly after this trek north that my Uncle Carl and Aunt Ruth introduced my parents on a double date. Dad was twenty-eight when he bought his first car. He married my mom when she was just twenty-one in 1965. We joked that he robbed the cradle, but Mom had been teaching for several years already. She completed teacher’s college at eighteen years old.
Dad and Mom lived in Belleville for the first few years of their marriage. Dad worked at Trenton Airforce Base. Stephen was born in 1967 and was proudly shared with neighbours and family. Dad loved to share stories and snuggles and to make silly faces and sounds to gain a smile from his new baby boy!
Dad took a job in Brantford in 1969 and moved ahead of Mom to find a place to live. Mom and Steve moved to Stinson Street just a few weeks before I was born - I surprised them by coming 4 weeks early!
I loved growing up in that neighbourhood in West Brant. We had kid’s carnivals in our backyard and a tribe of children that played outside every day. Dad taught us to ride a bike. I remember the confidence I had as he held the back of my seat and ran with me while I got a feel for the pedals. When I could soar on my own, he let go and I didn’t even notice until I heard his voice from far behind me saying: “Keep going, Peg! You’re doing it!” Of course, when I looked back to find him, I wiped out. But it was a good beginning.
Mom and Dad were delighted when Kathy joined our family six years after me in 1975. She was our Christmas gift that year as she was finally released from the hospital in time to celebrate with us. We also had a foster brother join our home for several years since Mom and Dad always had enough love to share.
Dad’s faith was shown in action. Kindness was his code. We would go out shopping and he would always talk to the clerks and other shoppers around us. As a shy girl who hated talking to strangers, I thought these kind movements toward others were super brave. I looked up to my dad.
Dad was patient with fixing things. I would have a delicate chain that got all tangled up and it was Dad who would sit and unknot the snarls. When things didn’t work as they should, we all learned to go to my dad. Other people in the church learned of his skills and he was often fixing a television or radio for a friend.
Dad did a lot of renovating in each house we lived in. He instinctively knew what to do and worked hard to make home a safe, inviting space. Mom warmed up the spaces with her artistic touches and then they both filled our home with love.
We were always welcome to have friends over. In fact, many of my friends called my parents Mom and Dad. My parents were gracious hosts, and our home was often filled with music, laughter, great conversations and faith.
From my earliest memories, we would have family devotions together at night cuddled in on the bed. We were taught to let faith rule over fear, and I remember Dad logically explaining why the darkness didn’t have to shake us. We knew Jesus, the light of the world was with us always.
Dad was a gracious soul. He gave people the benefit of the doubt and held the philosophy that “without the grace of God, that could be me.” It was Dad who first held the conviction that we should give first from our income to God and live on the other 90%. My parents started the tradition of setting aside 10% of their earnings in a church envelope each payday. They wanted to honour God with all they had. We never lacked for anything. And my parents' generosity made a deep impression on me.
Dad taught each of us how to drive. That was a good idea since he was a peaceful presence to have beside us as we learned. I remember one time Dad took me to a gravel road with an 80 km/h speed limit. I started to get too close to the edge then spooked and overcompensated. Dad just reached over and grabbed the wheel to steady us and made a soothing sound as you would to a spooked horse. “Whoa, there… we’re okay,’ as he coached me to lift my foot off the gas pedal.
I remember long car rides with Dad as he’d drive me back to school at Laurier. He was a man of few words but was happy to listen as I talked about things I was learning and experiencing. It was easiest to get Dad talking about his memories of his siblings, his life with Mom and our shared vacations and family adventures.
Dad loved to laugh and enjoyed making silly faces or goofy limericks. He always had a song in his head and would tap out rhythms on the dining table or glassware. He played piano for a few years and loved to sing when Kath or I would play.
In the last few years, his body was becoming a burden to him. It was becoming a struggle to get out of a chair or climb stairs. He had a growth on his prostate that created repeated bladder and kidney infections. His COPD made it necessary to monitor oxygen and blood pressure levels repeatedly each day. He made light of the indignities of needing a trip to the bathroom every twenty minutes, He made it one more opportunity to make someone smile when he made up a little ditty to accompany his shuffle with his walker: “Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to pee I go…” He had two more brilliant lines that I should have written down.
In the last few years, Mom has been a marvellous caregiver to my dad making it possible for him to live at home. We are so grateful that he came home from hospital just before COVID lockdown. He was a constant companion to Mom through that challenging time. He loved looking out the big picture windows in the living room at the birds and squirrels from the forest next to their home. They kept the feeders full all winter long to enjoy the colourful antics of wildlife. He shared movie nights with mom and they had their favourite programs they watched together. We were happy to resume family visits and some sense of normalcy together while Dad was still with us. He went on one last trip with my family in late August. We will treasure our memories.
Dad has said many times over the last few years that he was ready to go home. It was like he was in the waiting room, doing his best to enjoy the people and activities offered there, but with his mind on the next great adventure.
Since Dad passed away peacefully in the hospital at 5 am on October 31st, this scripture has been in my heart and mind:
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
Dad, we feel relief that you got to slip from this world gently in your sleep just as you hoped. We delight in knowing you are free from hardship and pain - and that your best self has risen up to the heights of your love and imagination into the glory of your Heavenly King. We love you!
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