The Eulogy for Ugor Samojlenko was delivered by his children and grandchildren at Whelan Funeral Home on Tuesday July 2, 2024.
DAVE:
Good evening.
Tonight we pay tribute to a devoted husband, loving father, grandfather, uncle, brother, and loyal friend.
Ugor Samojlenko, my dad.
When I was a kid, my dad was a superhero, a giant of a man. I remember his arms so big, I couldn’t fit both hands around his bicep. He could do anything. Lift anything. Build anything.
Carpentry was his trade, but it was more than just what he did for work. It’s what he did for life. He loved to build things, and there was no challenge too great, nothing that he couldn’t fashion with his own two hands.
And he loved to share those skills by building things for other people. Additions, bedrooms, kitchens, furniture, toys, plumbing, electrical, framing, plastering, finishing work, he could do it all.
I would often tag along on jobs with my dad. My job was to keep him company. Keep his tools organized, keep him laughing with jokes, play some good music, lend hands when he needed them, and stay out of his way.
We grew up in beds of sawdust, our lives an active construction site, with the sound of power tools ringing in our ears.
Construction is life.
This is the image I have of my dad when I close my eyes: He’s wearing a short sleeved shirt, hair tussled and dusted with sawdust, he’s got a trowel and putty knife, or a hammer and tool belt, he’s flicking a measuring tape against the wall, he’s checking level and plumb, he’s got a mouthful of nails, and a pencil behind his ear.
And that glorious mustache, with a great big smile.
This was dad in his element.
I know many of you have memories of things dad built for you or with you. If you walk through any of our homes we could put stickers on dozens of things saying “dad built this” and all of those things are a part of his legacy.
But none more so than my favourite place on earth, our family cottage. The cottage was an endless labour of love for Dad. He built this place for us kids, for our family. So we could have the summer vacations that he never had as a kid.
It is a place that I cherish, a place that was full of wonder and joy as a child, and a place where I’ve discovered peace and tranquility as an adult.
A few years ago, the cottage was hit by a big flood, and Dad’s relationship to the place became complicated. He had difficulty facing the challenge of rebuilding. Again. And it was all mixed up with his feelings about his declining strength with age, and led to a lot of frustration.
Phil and I knew then that we had to preserve his legacy and set about a multi year recovery effort to rebuild using all of the skills that he taught us.
In his final days in the hospital, dad told me how much that meant to him. And I promised him that I would continue to honour and preserve his legacy in that place and that it would always be a place for family.
Dad was always my first call when I was trying to figure out how to do something, and he would always be there with advice, or to lend a tool, or more often than not, he’d just jump in the van and come on over to help. I could always count on him being there.
So being able to pay him back in some way, to help keep his legacy alive, is my great honour.
In my life, I also try to use the skills I’ve learned to help the people I love, whether the technical skills he taught me, or the digital and computer skills that I use to make a living, because that’s how my dad raised me. To share my knowledge and skills, and to help others.
In that spirit, I’m going to ask my siblings to help me out here, and with a little levity that I am sure Dad would have loved, here are a few things Dad taught us…
Things Dad Taught Us
- [D] safety first (lol)
- [J] Measure once cut twice! (that doesn’t seem right)
- [P] Something about a blind guy on a donkey in Kingston (never understood that expression)
- [D] With plaster, less is more but don’t fuss too much you can always sand it out
- [P] Also don’t sand too much because paint can hide a lot
- [J] If someone asks if you can do something the answer is always yes
- [D] No such thing as overcommitting
- [J] Family first
- [P] Defend your family
- [D] Find a best friend and keep him for life
- [J] Listen to music while you work
- [P] Even if you don’t know the tune you can whistle along
- [D] Even if you don’t know the words you can sing along
- [J] If something is broken try taking it apart. Putting it back together is optional.
- [P] I’m not a hoarder I’m a collector
- [D] You and your brother better get along or else
- [J] You better look after your sister or else
- [P] You listen to your mother or else
- [D] Just because I’m snoring doesn’t mean I’m sleeping, don’t you change that channel
- [J] Do not wake the bear
- [P] Buy good tools. Actually buy two if there’s a good sale. Really you can never have too many
- [D] Sometimes the wrong tool for the job can be the right tool for the job with a little persuasion
- [J] Hammer = persuader
- [P] All animals deserve dignity in life and death and you should probably take in as many as possible
- [D] Wear your heart on your sleeve.
- [J] You will not be scared of insects, reptiles, or weeds in the Ottawa River. Exposure is key.
- [P] Always be social
- [D] Looking for a pencil? Check behind dad’s ear.
I miss you already dad, don’t worry about me though- you taught me well, I’ll figure things out from here.
And now my sister Jennifer will say a few words.
JENNIFER:
There’s so much that I could tell you all about Dad. Fun stories, special memories, accomplishments and landmark moments of his life. But today I want to talk a bit about our last Father’s Day with dad.
On Father’s Day this year, like a number of years before it, Stephen and I planned to have the families over to our house. A day for the dads. Dad was really looking forward to it this year. He was having a real tough few weeks, but he never wavered in his desire to come. He made it and I was so glad that he did, though a sadness hung in the air because deep down I knew it would be the last one with him there.
In many of the memories that we have of Dad, there is a theme of music. Dad loved music. Listening to music, playing his guitar, singing, and boy could he whistle. The most beautiful gentle whistle, and as Emily told him recently…always with perfect pitch. I have so many memories of Dad playing guitar. And as it turns out, a lot of you do too. He’d play for others and he’d play for himself just the same. Songs by the campfire about drunken sailors, good oldies- Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Gordon Lightfoot, the list goes on. He would play his own compositions as well. He had a special one for our brother Stephen. I remember on summer nights falling asleep to dad playing his guitar in the backyard. From my window I could hear the sweet and somber melody, that he was singing out for our brother.
Growing up, I took piano lessons for many years. I know that Dad always loved to hear me play. He was most often sitting in the next room when I’d practice. He’d listen supportively while I warmed up with scales and technique and took my time to learn my pieces and get all the notes right. As I progressed in repertoire, this process was longer and longer. But patiently he waited, while I developed all the melodies, and he’d learn it too. And he’d whistle along.
With all of this music in our lives growing up, it should be no surprise that one of my favorite moments at our current day family gatherings, is when Ella, Colin or Lauren come up to me and say “Auntie, can I play your piano?” And just like that… there’s music around us once again. It can be Quinn sharing the bars she knows from the nutcracker, Colin transposing his guitar chords to the piano, or Ella and Lauren playing and singing Taylor Swift.
But this Fathers day at one point I bumped Lauren off my piano bench because I wanted to play for dad. I realized that it could be the last time I get to play my piano for him. So although unprepared, I stumbled through and played a couple songs for dad. At Quinn’s request I even played a Christmas song- dad and Quinn’s favourite, Carol of the Bells. And right on cue, dad whistled along with me just like before.
Later one day in the hospital when i was having a talk with dad, that was one of the things I told him. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him supporting my piano lessons, and it was important for me to play for him on that Father’s Day. He looked at me and said that even when he’s not here anymore, he will always hear me play.
Dad…I’ll love you forever. I’ll miss you so terribly (especially the way you and your van always smelled like lumber). I hope you can rest easy now, you worked so hard all your life and you never deserved one ounce of the suffering you endured this last year. And Dad, the next song I play at my piano, and every one after, is dedicated to you. Because I know you’ll be listening.
PHIL:
I have never had more trouble putting my words down onto paper as I did for this tribute to my dad. To be honest, I wasn’t ready for this. We found out just over a year ago that dad had cancer. As with everything, we approached this with hope and optimism. Little did we know that this would be a year filled with lasts. Our last Thanksgiving, our last Christmas, our last birthdays, and our last Father’s Day.
Before writing this, I tried thinking of my last memory, not tainted by the stink of cancer. I’m going to share a memory from my birthday in May 2023.
It was on my 50th birthday that I found myself driving west out of Ottawa to a campground outside of Almonte on Clayton Lake. My wife and I and our three kids, had picked up grandma and Dida to go see the spot where I was almost born 50 years earlier.
We walked around the campgrounds that had clearly changed over time but still had the same geological features as they did in 1973. As the story goes, my mother and father were camping with their friends on the Victoria Day weekend. On the morning of May 21st, my father and his best friend had gotten up early to get out on the water and catch some fish.
Dave and I had other plans.
My mother unzipped the tent.
« Ugor, I think I need to go to the hospital. »
That was the start of my father’s journey as a dad.
50 years later, as a dad myself, I watched my mother and father walk around the campground, lost in the memories of their youth. They shared stories of campsites and campers and days spent by the water and nights in their tiny tent.
They shared stories of my own youth with their grandchildren – stories that I remember and have heard many times before but that were new to this generation. They told their grandchildren how their dad was an absolute angel and an utter joy to raise. It was a day of happiness and joy and one I’ll cherish for all my days.
If you’ll indulge me, I want the grandchildren to come up here now and share some Dida stories with you all. Stories that I’m sure they’ll share in the future with their own kids on some car ride around town.
LAUREN:
My dida was the type of man who believed and supported his family and would go out of his way to make us feel loved. In May, when I had my last competitive hockey game for the year, he came and cheered me on. And the next day we spent 30 minutes on the phone talking about it and him telling me how proud he was.
He was always a great Dida. He loved us and always supported us in anything we did. My dida will never be forgotten, and those memories of him supporting us will always be with us. We all will miss him cheering us on. Thank you Dida, we love you so much
ELLA:
i love that dida always took the time to make sure that i had fun. one of my favourite memories of Dida is when he would take us out for boat rides on the Ottawa River. Whether it was to pick us up from the Ontario side to bring us back to Camp Gramma & Dida or simply because one of us wanted a Slush Puppy down in Quyon, he would always make sure that the boat ride itself was. For example, whenever another boat bigger than ours was passing by, Dida would quickly change route towards the wake left behind by the other boat. The air that we got from him doing that felt like I was about to go overboard. Or whenever there was a long stretch of water without any turbulence, Dida would suddenly turn the engine from one side to the other, so that I could reach my hand over the side to feel the water rushing by. Whenever he would do that particular move I would get to see a rainbow out of the mist from my hand running through the water, which to a young girl sitting at the front of her Dida’s boat felt like magic. However, my favourite maneuver that Dida did was the donuts followed by the grande finale of driving head on into the waves. I would tightly hold onto my seat as he began circling around and around, and after the waves were big enough to put a look of fear on my face he would loop around and drive into those waves at the fastest speed the boat could go. It usually ended with me and my siblings coming back into the cottage soaking wet with smiles across our faces and a new story to tell Gramma. I didn’t know it back then, but Dida taught me a very valuable lesson with all of those boat rides. He taught me that the trip is just as valuable as the destination. He taught me that it’s okay to take your time, look around, and enjoy the things around you.
COLIN:
I don’t remember a time leaving their house without yelling “ Bye grandma and Dida, Love you” out the car window to my Grandparents standing on the front porch wrapped in each others arms. My Dida was a loving man who showed it, I was lucky enough to share my love for Bob Dylan with him. When I started to learn the guitar during Covid I made sure to learn “Don’t think twice it’s all right” by Dylan for him, it was the first song I ever played for him and there he was singing and whistling along with a smile ear to ear, after I fished the song he started asking me all sorts of questions like “ How do you get your hands to move the fast” and “ How do you make that chord”. From that moment on he was always sure to put a guitar in my hands if there was one around asking for a lesson and wanting to hear new songs I’ve been working on. We shared that love for music all the way through, on his last “good day” in the hospital I was fortunate enough to bring in my guitar and play him some songs. “Don’t think twice” was the first one I played for him and there he was like always singing harmonies with me. Now there will be one less person on that front porch of their house, but unlike what Dylan says goodbye is not too good of a word so goodbye Dida, we love you
QUINN:
Every time I would go to Grandma and Dida’s house I would get a yogurt and Dida would try to steal it. And when we went to the cottage for thanksgiving I would go to the hidy hole and sometimes the cousins would come. I would look down and see everyone. And I felt like a spy. I would see Dida cooking or doing something. I miss you Dida, I love you.
PHIL:
Thanks guys.
It’s a year later and that drive to Almonte seems so long ago. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on dads life and his legacy. He was a great father and amazing grandfather but he was so much more than that.
He was an immigrant. Just 4 short years after being born in Munich, Germany, he hopped on a ship with his mother and brother and headed for Canada. They landed, like many immigrants do, at Pier 21 in Halifax. He would sometimes say it was the happiest day of his life. I never understood how he could say that but then I remember back to when I was the same age and we moved houses. I have clear memories of our moving day and me riding my tricycle down the driveway watching dad move our stuff into our home. I’m sure he was filled with the same hope and excitement that I was.
He was a good husband. He met my mother just after his 19th birthday at Mooney’s Bay Beach. They married when he was 22 and he remained by moms side for what would’ve been 58 years tomorrow. He called her Shirl when he wanted something and he’d kiss her every night before she went up to bed. He missed her dearly when they were apart – first when my sister was born and mom spent a few nights at the Grace and then later when he went overseas to work on the Canadian embassies in Ukraine and Russia. They leaned heavily on each other when Stephen passed and in his final days, he never let go of her hand.
He was a good man. He loved each of us with all of his heart. He was always willing to help anyone in need. I know that each of you in this room have experienced dads generosity and help in some way. I’m sure most of you have also heard his stories. He loved to talk. He’d seek out conversations with people because he wanted to be connected in some way to those around him. Dad taught me that all life is sacred all life is interconnected.
It’s so hard to write an appropriate closing. There are stories that swirl in my head that I want to keep to myself and there’s others I want to share. I’m afraid I don’t have enough time tonight for all of them. So I’ll leave with this.
Dad was an optimist. If you ever talked politics with him, you may not agree but I believe he was. He could look at anything and see the potential within it. He would look at a scrap piece of wood and see a beautiful jewellery box. He could look at a washed up log and see a monkey. He could look at a cottage built in 1940 and see his dream home.
In this vein, I’ll talk a little about my optimism for the future. For the first time in my life, my father will not be on this earth. Dad did that from the time he was 1. How lucky was I to have him in my life for 51 years and for me to learn so much from him and share so many experiences with him.
I love you dad. I’ll make you proud.
DAVE:
We have one more thing this evening. Many of you who were following our family’s recent journey through Facebook probably saw a post I had made Saturday before last.
That after a week of really hard days, it was a good day. Dad was awake, and out of bed a number of times.
He and Mom got to dance to their wedding song while Phil, Jen and I filmed them with tears streaming down our faces.
And Colin came packing a guitar, and he played a couple of dad’s favourite Dylan tunes, and the whole family, dad included, had a little sing along.
It was a truly special moment, a gift in a really difficult time. And Colin, my godson, nephew, and friend is here to share a song with you now.