Lindra (Lynn) Annie Melbourne

The first thing you would notice was her smile. It lit up any room. It was full of love and light and charm. It made people feel good. Loved.
When Lindra Melbourne was with her family and friends, that smile was ever-present. If it ever went away, it wasn’t gone for long.
She was strong. Resilient. Happy. She never let life’s trials dim that light that she had. And it could have. Hers was not an easy life.
Lynn (she hated ‘Lindra’) was born in Toronto to Harry and Margaret, a couple, truth be told, that was ill prepared to be parents. Their three daughters, including Gerry and Gail, would all but raise themselves. Lynn was the middle child. In her teens, when things got really bad, she would leave for the shelter of a friend’s family. She never forgot Elaine’s generosity and treasured that lifelong friendship.
Later, denied educational opportunities, she worked.
And met someone.
She married, had three boys, Martin, Darryl and Warren. She devoted herself to raising them, trusting that she wasn’t alone in that endeavor.
She was though.
But she wouldn’t be broken. She had sons to feed and clothe and raise into men, and she worked so hard that they wanted for nothing. She was gentle but tenacious. She instilled her values of how to act and how to treat others. And she was fun.
She set an example for her sons to follow and they built careers and wonderful families with Michele, Renee and Juliette.
Her last years were filled with the joy of spending time with her grandchildren, Meagan, Patrick, Victoria, Cameron, Sean, Daisy. She adored them. She was proud of them. And she knew that life is about spending the time you have with the people you love.
She left us too soon. Yes, everybody says that. No one wants to lose a loved one.
Except it’s true. One day happy, active – working in a garden. Her happy place.
The next day on an operating table for a procedure that has a 99 per cent success rate.
The next day in a hospital, with agonizing pain, post-op pain, and nonetheless she is sent home.
The next day we’re all saying our goodbyes, trusting that she hears us, can feel us holding her hands. That she can feel the love as she fights. There’s a lot of love.
Years with her have been stolen from us and we have to contend with that. Grief is spliced with shock and confusion.
That will pass.
Our memories will endure though. We’ll remember the countless special times we shared, her selflessness, her sense of humour and contagious laugh, her insistence on perfection when it came to cooking and baking, her love of British TV mysteries and bad Carry On movies, her willingness to drop everything and help at a moment’s notice, her determination to keep moving, to not stand still, even at 82.
We’ll remember the love and the light and that smile.
Arrangements entrusted to Peaceful Transition York (2-15236 Young Street Aurora) and condolences may be forwarded through www.peacefultransition.ca