At 88 years old, my Great Uncle Glenn lives a simple life in the small oil town of Petrolia. He lives in the Bicknell house on Warren Ave, surrounded by memories of a life he loves and loved ones who aren’t with him anymore. His daily routine doesn’t falter much,  as his memory is failing him, but he finds comfort living in the house he grew up in. 

Today, like most days he rises at dawn to make a bowl of cereal. His house is cluttered with memorabilia, but isn’t too filthy anymore, since his niece Christina and sister-in-law Trudy deep cleaned it months earlier. 

Glenn’s side door used to have a cat door for the neighbourhood cat he takes care of named Candace. But a few months back his house was broken into by a family of five racoons, so he had to seal the door. Although he still leaves out food for Candace on the deck every morning.

As usual, he hears a knock at the door and Adrian, his personal support worker, comes for his first visit of the day. They make quick greetings as he comes in through the side door. The front door of the house hasn’t been used in years, as behind it are boxes upon boxes of storage. 

Adrian vacuums the kitchen and living room for him, a task that isn’t great for Glenn’s back. Glenn sets up a chess board and will play a round of chess with Adrian. My mom, Glenn’s niece, has a theory that Adrian lets him win. But I believe even with his mind slowly tapering, he is a great chess player and wins on his own merit. He taught me how to play chess the last time I visited him months ago, and even though the game rules don't still register in my mind, it’s obvious that he is quite a knowledgeable chess player. I hope to learn more from him when I return to to Petrolia. 

________________________________________________________________________

Thomas Bicknell migrated to Canada with his wife Anne Bicknell from England in the year 1895. Their life in Castle Hedingham, Essex was financially challenging at times. They heard that coming to North America would give them a better quality of life to raise a young family, as they heard through the grapevine Canada was booming with economical opportunities. 

It took them 22 days to sail over the great Atlantic Ocean to Canada on the SS Sardinian. The journey was treacherous and Anne was sea sick, and part of them wasn’t sure it was worth it. But when they arrived on Ontario soil, the journey was well worth the suffering. Some of Thomas’ brothers also crossed the sea for a new life, but moved to areas in the United States instead, leaving Thomas and Anne to start a new life where they knew nobody. A brand-new start, which was daunting, but they were ultimately grateful.

They still desired a simple, quiet life. Thomas and Anne didn’t choose the hustle and bustle of the growing city of Toronto. Instead, they set their sights on a quaint town Petrolia, about a 20-minute horse and buggy ride to the great Lake Huron. The most special thing about Petrolia is it’s the only place in Ontario with an oil spring. Thus, bringing them the economic opportunities and new life they envisioned. 

Before coming to Canada, Thomas was already a talented woodworker. He had worked in construction and built many small projects in his hometown. He was a hard worker, and he saved his money so he and Anne could live a comfortable life and someday raise children. His decision to move to Canada was quite sudden, but he knew he could find a job overseas due to his ability in construction and woodworking. 

Thomas scrounged together all the money he had left after the boat journey and used it to purchase a small block of land on Warren Ave, for just over a thousand dollars. It wasn’t a big property, but it was a blank canvas filled with endless possibilities, with a small creek at the back of the property that flowed to Bear Creek. There were a few houses nearby already built, but for the most part the area was dense with forestry. Thomas sourced all quality Oak from the local trees. 

As Spring turned to summer, he began building him and Anne a permanent home, one that they could have children and grow old in. This project was a labour of love for him. His knowledge for construction came in handy as he built two stories using the wood. But this wasn’t a usual build, he used intricate woodwork and imaginative carving to make the house beautiful with artistic charm. And after a year of constant work, the house stood proud and sturdy. He bought a can of pink paint and painted the wood house the most wonderful shade of light crimson. This was home. The Bicknell home. 

________________________________________________________________________

After Adrian leaves, Glenn makes a trip outside. He admires the silver plaque on the outside of the house that reads “The Bicknell House” and declares his house as a historical building. The house looks just as it had when he was a boy. Except he chose to paint it a light yellow over the pink he grew up with.

Glenn grabs his bike, ready to go on his daily ride. Glenn never fancied a car. He figured his town is so small he can get around anywhere by just using his bike. And it’s good for him, he tells me it’s how he stays healthy in his old age. People of the town know him for his bike and think his ability to ride it is amazing at his age. Glenn’s first stop is always the same: The Coffee Lodge.

He walks into the familiar building and is greeted by Erin, the barista. I have had the pleasure of meeting Erin a handful of times, and she tells me that Glenn is like family to her staff of workers. He always brightens their day, and when he doesn’t come they get worried. Uncle Glenn always orders a black coffee and a grilled cheese sandwhich. I personally love their Greek grilled cheese, but Uncle Glenn was never interested in trying a new sandwich. He’s a man that knows what he likes. 

When he makes his way home, his Niece Christina and sister-in-law Trudy arrive at his house. They come to see him regularly to take him to appointments and check in on him. They only wait for him for a few minutes, so they don’t have to track down his bike, as they sometimes have to do. They visit with him and he makes them tea. 

His kitchen is small, and the walls are filled with knick-knacks, vintage blue plates, and small wall hangings with random motivational quotes. There’s a shelf with beautiful and unique glass-ware of all different colours, deep blues, dark greens, and sparkling transparent. His mother, Clara, told him she wanted the glassware to stay with the house to be passed down. These knick-knacks and glass artefacts haven’t been moved in half a century. If you look at them closely, you will see that they have collected dust. 

In the living room, besides the small dirty couch and hard rocking chair, there are boxes of family memorabilia. Over two hundred records and an old record player that still works. There is a chess set that Glenn’s dad gave him as a child. And the most precious thing in the house, Bicknell paintings that hang on the wall. His father was a successful painter and wood worker and passed down the talent to Glenn and all of his brothers. There are a dozen landscape and nature paintings with the Bicknell signature in the bottom right. A snowy church scene. A spring field with a small Tudor house. A great forest of greenery. And a red train. Trains were Glenn’s favourite inspiration to paint, even to this day.

_________________________________________________________________________

In the year 1900 at the turn of the century, Anne held her newborn baby boy in her arms for the first time. She had a home birth on the living room floor, with only the help of Thomas. She was still in pain and exhausted, but felt so much love for the little face. They had been trying to have a baby for years, and finally she held her first son. Everything her and Thomas dreamed of was coming true, and the house was their safe place where they can finally raise the children they have so desired. 

They agreed to call their son Fred. Anne, like many women at the time, was a stay-at-home mother and raised Fred with love and care, until it was time for him to go off the school and learn. Fred excelled at maths and literacy and was a very smart child. But he took after his father with artistic talent. Thomas was an employed contractor and wood worker. He would teach little Fred how to carve wood and use a saw. Together they would carve and create violins, as music was another budding passion of Freds. 

Although he enjoyed woodworking, Fred had another important talent of painting. He first learned how to paint as a young boy at school and continued his talents into childhood. Anne and Thomas gifted him a painting set at the age of 7, and he never gave up on his passion for art. 

Fred would paint beautiful landscapes. He would spend time outside in nature and memorize the beautiful natural sites of Petrolia; the oak trees in the backyard, the pond where ducks float, the oil springs. Once he sat at the corner of Petrolia Line and Oil St. and from that perspective he painted the old Anglican Church. He would sign each painting in the right corner with his last name “Bicknell.”

Fred had a few odd jobs to make the family more money. He would deliver newspapers and milk, he would help his father by creating wooden signs for shops, and he was a violinist in an orchestra. 

Fred was happy in Petrolia, but he wanted more out of life. When he was 18 years old, he moved to Toronto and met a woman and married her. But the marriage and life in Toronto turned out to be difficult. So, he did what very few unhappy men did in the early 1900’s, he divorced his wife and moved back home to Petrolia. Which is good, because he would have never met Clara if he didn’t have the guts to leave. 

________________________________________________________________

Glenn’s body is healthy for his age. He doesn’t smoke, he is a vegetarian, and he bikes at least 20 minutes every day. He is the last of his brothers to be alive, although he is the youngest. Thomas, his brother and my grandfather passed unexpectedly in 2023. 

Glenn’s mind is faltering, but he hasn’t been diagnosed with dementia. He had a stroke back last November and his memory is almost gone. He doesn’t remember things that happened even a half an hour ago. For example, every time his niece Christina visits, he asks her who he’s leaving the house to. She always replies that he’s leaving the house to her, and he is always relieved that it’s staying in the family. 

Glenn has some pretty interesting encounters because of his memory loss. Last Christmas, Christina gifted Glenn a watch, and it went missing. Glenn had opened the Christmas gift and liked it, but he forgot why the new watch was at his house.  He went to his lawyer’s office and told the staff that someone broke into his house, left the watch, and stole the deed to his house. He left the watch at the office. My mom had to drive down and give it to him again. 

Every time Glenn can’t find something he believes that someone stole it. One time he carved and painted a rooster weathervane. He grieved to Christina about the weathervane being stolen. Christina told him that she thinks he just gave it away and doesn't remember who he gave it to. Sure enough, a few months had passed, and he went to visit the barista Erin’s garden with him and there it was, in all its glory – the weathervane.

Glenn’s not totally losing it. Glenn recently took an intelligence test and scored a 100%, so doctors deemed him fit to stay in his home as long as a personal support worker comes to visit him every day.

Things began going wrong about a week after Christina’s last visit to Glenn. She woke up with texts from Erin the barista, telling her that Glenn hadn't been in the coffee shop in a couple days, and she was worried. Christina called Adrian, his personal support worker and he told them that when Adrian came to see Glenn, he wouldn’t answer the door, so Adrian figured he was out and would come back later. 

Turns out, Uncle Glenn hadn’t gotten out of bed that day, as he was in pain and extremely sick. Christina left work and drove to Petrolia right away and used her key to get into his house. She found him curled up in a ball on his bed. She took him to the hospital to get treatment.

Uncle Glenn was diagnosed with a serious bladder infection and sepsis. He had been suffering in silence for a week. He didn’t tell anyone as he didn’t think it was a big deal and he didn’t want to worry anybody. But finally, his body couldn’t take it anymore and he just wanted to be alone lying in his bed. His biggest fear is going to a nursery home and having to leave his house. 

Christina was right by his side while he was in the hospital. The doctor basically gave him two options. One: to not receive treatment and pass peacefully in palliative care. Two: he can receive treatment and live. Glenn chose the latter without hesitation; he wasn’t ready to die.

In that hospital, Glenn told Christina his greatest wish. He wants to die in the house that his father was born in. He doesn’t want to die in palliative care or a stuffy hospital. He wants to leave the house horizontally. The only way he could die in peace is to have his last breath in the house that his grandfather built with his own two hands. The house where he lived from birth to old age. The house that would someday be passed to Christina but will never ever leave the family blood line no matter what. Death doesn’t scare Glenn, but leaving the house behind does. 

_________________________________________________________________________

Baby Glenn was born in the winter of 1937. He was Fred and Clara’s third born son after Leonard and Thomas Jr. He was born in the hospital and brought home in a blue blanket to the pink house that was passed down to Fred by his parents. Glenn lived a happy childhood, growing up in a charming small town and a comfortable house, where he felt safe. And he hasn’t left since.

July 8th, 1957

Dear George, 

I felt numb when you didn’t show up — like nothing at all mattered. 

I waited at the sunset for you to arrive, but you never showed. You promised we’d meet again, on this day. The sand eroded and the waves were high. I sat on the dune overlooking the lilac, pink, and yellow sky. 

I waited for you longingly. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, the yellow light and my hope became fleeting. The sun was gone and turned the sky dark. I knew it was over. I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream. 

No pain compares to the heartbreak I felt when I realized I would have to face life… without you. 

All the beautiful things we planned and talked about are gone. All those long summer nights where I’d fall asleep in your arms. The wedding we’d have at the old church, the tutor house by the lake, the three wonderful children, the future we talked about is gone. But I still love you. 

Love, Anna

 

October 4th, 1957

Dear George,

It’s been months since the day you never showed up. I’m starting to feel peace without you. 

I miss you everyday, but I’m facing life alone. And it hurts sometimes and sometimes feels like life has no meaning, but I’m doing fine. I told you I’d wait for you forever, but I lied. I’m done waiting. 

You broke your promise to meet me and you broke my heart. And maybe someday we’ll meet again but I wanted you to know that I don’t need you anymore.

Love, Anna

 

October 20th, 1957

Dear George, 

You’re dead. 

That’s why you never showed up. It took months for the news to get to me from Italy. I am so sorry. I never should have doubted your love for me. And you would have shown up, if you could. We would have a life together, get married and have beautiful children. I don’t know how I can go on, knowing you’re not on this Earth anymore.

I’ll think about you until the day I die. I’ll be in love forever with you. 

Right now I’m sobbing uncontrollably and I can barely breathe. All our memories of last summer I’ll cherish greatly….

I’ll look at the clouds and remember how we used to discover shapes for hours. I’ll listen to our song “I’ll Be Seeing You” and remember how we danced. It would have been our wedding song, if we ever had the privilege of marrying one another. I’ll go to our old diner and order banana cream pie again. I used to hate how you would eat it all so fast, but now I’d give anything to share it with you again. I’ll keep living, because I know that’s what you want for me. 

George, rest in peace my one true love.  

Love always, Anna

 

July 8th, 1966

My love George, 

It’s been 10 years since I’ve last seen you. I’m writing this at our spot at the beach — the place we were going to meet all those years ago.

I still think about you everyday. But I can’t picture your face anymore, no matter how hard I try. And I no longer remember the sound of your laugh.

I have a husband, Mike. And three children Milly, Mark, and Daisy. I love my family very much. They give my life meaning again. Meaning that I lost for years after I was told that you were dead. 

I had to learn to live without you and move on from my mourning. My biggest secret is that I’ll never love my husband, the way I loved you. I can’t compare the two of you, because he’s here and you're not. All the things you and I dreamed of, I’m now living with him. And sometimes it feels like I’m betraying you, being with someone else. 

My heart still aches for you everyday. And as I grow old, you will never leave my heart. 

Love always, 

Anna

 

July 8th, 2023

My Dear George, 

It’s been 66 years since our perfect romantic summer, and even though the memories are hazy — I still feel the love we shared in my heart. 

I’m living in a hospice, and the doctors tell me I only have days left. Days until I can see you. 

I’m not really scared of death, I’m ready. I’ll be leaving behind amazing children and grandchildren. But I know it’s my time. 

I don’t know where I will go after death, but I hope you are there waiting on the other side. In my eternal sleep, I hope that we’ll meet. 

Love always, 

Anna