Last week, we were about to approve the final version of the
program for my dad's memorial service. But then Lingchang called - an old friend who once lived in my parents spare room.
He was so sad he couldn't be at the service that he sent us
some "mourn words" he wanted to be read. With four speakers, two
hymns, two prayers, a eulogy, and a chamber music quartet, we were already
expecting the service to run a bit long. But when we read Lingchang's words, they so
beautifully captured my dad's generosity of spirit that we asked the Minister
to squeeze them in.
I'm so glad we did. The service happened this past Saturday.
I was touched by all the people that came - almost two hundred, we figured.
They made the trip to Ottawa from as far away as Halifax, Hamilton, and
Haliburton.
It's hard to describe just how lovely it was to have so many
people gathered together, celebrating the lovely man that my dad was. But
perhaps Lingchang's words can help convey some of that spirit:
悼念词 （Mourn Words for Mr. Harold Jones）
I deeply sorrow to hear my dear friend Harold Jones passed
away two months ago.
I remember clearly the first time I met him and his wife
Merle at Erskine Church in 1990 when I was a visiting scholar in Carleton
University according to the agreement between Jiangsu Province of China and
Ontario Province of Canada.
When he learned I stayed in Chinatown, which was quite far
from Carleton University for me without a car, he generously invited me to stay
with them and offered me the room where his daughter once lived. Mr. Jones’s
home is very near Carleton University so it gave me great convenience.
Jones not only helped me resolve the problem of
accommodation but also spent a lot of time to correct my reports grammatically
again and again.
Once when he and his wife found out my birthday, Merle
herself made two birthday cakes and Harold invited all the choir members of
Erskine Church to their home to celebrate and shared the birthday cakes with
us, because I was one of the choir members at that time.
During Christmas, his son and daughter came home from
Toronto. The Joneses made five Christmas socks to distribute to every member of
the family. That means they took me as a member of their family.
Before I finished my studies in Carleton, he learned I had
not chanced to go out of Ottawa to look at other nearby cities. He
automatically spent the whole day in driving me and my Chinese colleagues to
Montreal and enthusiastically showed us around the city to let us enjoy the
beauty and grand churches and the different buildings with the unique
architecture styles.
When he and his wife Merle learned my daughter Beiling Yan
would come to Canada to study, they once again stretched out their genuine and
generous hands to invite my daughter to stay with them. If necessary, they were
ready to offer financial assistance.
A proverb arises from my heart: “A friend in need is a
friend in deed.” What Mr. Jones did for me made me feel very warm and happy.
Several years later, I was promoted from associate professor
to professor due to my research achievements. Frankly speaking, my achievements
were closely linked with the Jones's assistance.
After I went back to China, another visiting scholar from
South Korea came to stay with them. They treated him just as they did me.
Harold has set us a brilliant example, just as great
Canadian internationalist Dr. Norman Bethune did. I will learn from him
forever. Harold Jones will live in my heart forever.
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