PAULINE INGRAM

Adjust Text Size: A+ A-

PAULINE INGRAM
August 23, 1922 - April 10, 2020

It is with profound sadness that the family of Pauline Ingram announces her passing at Hillsdale Terraces, Oshawa, Ontario on Friday, April 10, 2020, in her 98th year.
Pauline was predeceased by her husbands, Donald Quinn and Albert Ingram. She leaves to mourn her passing, her children, Bobbi Gibb (David) and David Ingram (Edna); five grandchildren, Melanie (Brian), Victoria (Ken), Christina (Dave), Andrew (Jen) and Jeremy (Asami); and eight great-grandchildren; Benjamin, William, Jack, Emaline, James, Spencer, Isaac and Christine.
Aunt to many nieces and nephews in Canada and the States.
Pauline was born in Montreal, the only child of William and Gertrude Good (both deceased). She also lived in Winnipeg, Manitoba for over 30 years and worked at the St. James Assiniboia Library as an Executive Assistant.
At her request, there will be no funeral and a future Celebration of Life will be held privately.
Thank you to the staff at Hillsdale Terraces who have taken care of Pauline for the past four years. Their dedication has been especially appreciated during the Covid19 crisis.
Memorial donations may be made to The Salvation Army or the Alzheimers Society.

Arrangements being handled by
Mount Lawn Funeral Home, 21 Garrard Rd.
Whitby, ON L1N 3K4 (905-443-3376).

Online condolences at www.mountlawn.ca.

We love you Mom and will miss you.

For You

The things you loved I have not laid away,
to molder in the darkness, year by year;
The songs you sang, the books you read each day, are all about me, intimate and dear.
I do not keep your chair a thing apart,
lonely and empty - desolate to view.
But if one come a-weary, sick at heart -
I seat him there and comfort him for you.
I do not go apart in grief and weep,
for I have known your tenderness and care.
Such memories are joys that we may keep,
and so I pray for those whose lives are bare.
I may not daily go and scatter flowers, where
you are sleeping 'neath the sun and dew.
But if one lies in pain through weary hours,
I send the flowers there, dear heart, for you.
Life claims our best, you would not have me
waste, a single day in selfish idle woe,
I fancy that I hear you bid me haste,
lest I should sadly falter as I go.
Perchance so much that now seems
incomplete, was left for me in my
poor way to do,
And I shall love to tell you when we meet
that I have done your errands, dear, for you.

As published in Winnipeg Free Press on Apr 18, 2020