Obituary of John Michael Dobrowolski

Welcome everyone and thank you for joining us today as we honour and celebrate the life of John Dobrowolski. He was a good friend, a loving husband, a doting father and an amazing grandfather. He was a man of God whose faith carried him through right to the end and beyond. I have prepared a few words about Grandpa. As a family we sat around Grandma's house and talked about the impact this 5'7" giant of a man had on all of us. My grandpa was the biggest man I've ever met. My grandpa was the strongest man I've ever met. This is something we were told in childhood and never questioned. Even when Brigitte and little John towered over him, we knew that no one could ever be as big and strong as him. For those outside the family that knew him, this may be a little difficult to comprehend. But then they would have never seen the way that every party seemed to gravitate around him. How, no matter how crowded a room, you could always sense where he was. One need only look at the shadow that he cast in his family and in his community to know that, in personality, he was massive. If you couldn't see grandpa, there was a good chance you could hear him. He had a deep, rich voice that we all loved to hear. He loved to sing in the kitchen while peeling potatoes, sing during road trips, and sing to the babies. He had a large repertoire of songs but mostly his children remember Hey Hey Good Looking" and "Mama's little baby loves shortnin bread". During serious conversation he could drop his tone an octave and have a serious booming bass voice. It might have been intimidating if it wasn't for the constant sparkle in his eyes. As for strength, one need only look at his hands. With those hands he could make anything in his workshop, shaping wood to his will. I remain convinced that he could build anything, which I understand was a challenge, he famously measured everything twice before cutting and then it always turned out 2 inches short. "Stupid like pig" he would cuss, somehow the measuring tape did it wrong every time! His children and grandchildren all remember sitting holding hands with Grandpa. We held hands during tense hockey playoff games, while sitting watching Walt Disney on a Sunday night, or just hanging out. At times though, this hand holding could escalate into a fast paced game of hand snatching where his hand would lay still and we would try to slap it without him catching it. A game that I don't think anyone ever won against Grandpa. But those hands of his could also heal. They could also wipe away the tears and terrors of a crying grandchild. And therein lay his true strength. My grandpa fought the dinosaurs. This was the schoolyard boast that I'm sure each of us yelled at one point or another to impress our friends. I can now concede that it is possible that they were not actual dinosaurs, even if the man was as old as time. But he did live through the Great Depression. And he served in WWII, giving five years to the European arena as a member of the Royal Canadian Electrical and Mechanical Engineers. He struggled against terrible horrors so that we wouldn't have to. And not only did he take the worst that humanity had to offer and come out unscathed, he came out loving life more than ever. Having seen some of the darkest times in recent history encouraged him to seek out the light in whatever he did, and to protect those he loved from ever having to experience what he did. Grandpa was a man of great faith. Church to him was not seen as a weekly obligation, but rather as a weekly celebration. Many of you will remember that deep voice of his, which always rang loudest during all of his favourite hymns. Even at home he enjoyed listening to spiritual music most of all, and celebrated holidays with such fervor that many of us remained convinced that he was in fact Santa Claus. I mean, the man had a baritone voice, white, white bushy beard, sparkling blue eyes, a belly that shook like a bowl full of jelly, and even a magical workshop? Christmas morning each house would be woken by a phone call that only said Ho HO HO. Nothing has ever been proven but the fact remains we never saw Grandpa and Santa Claus in the same place! Grandpa attributed his great capacity to love to his faith in God. He had a strong, ever growing faith in God and Jesus Christ. In a letter he wrote to my mother when she was a teenager, he said "Many may question if God is real. You don't have to look very far to find the answer. It is simply that God is Love. Wherever you find love, you find God". And he lived that truth every day. His love for grandma was limitless and inspiring, as he believed God's love was for each of us. He felt it every day when he took grandma's hand, or waited for her to show up at his door. Every time he rejoiced in his children, and especially his grandchildren, he was rejoicing with God. And like the incorrigible farmer that he was, he reaped what he sowed. As he gave his love to us, he harvested it back tenfold. He felt the presence of God in every one of us. To his children he played the doting father. Always taking them on camping trips, watching the hockey games with them, or letting them do up his hair real pretty on long car rides. And for a man that had so many natural talents, he was perhaps the world's worst disciplinarian; struggling to be stern with his children for more than a few minutes without bursting into giggles. He was always available to give horsie rides, and proved a deadly foe in water pistol shootouts. Even as he and his children grew older, he was always able to stay young at heart. Even to the very last, you would be hard-pressed to ever catch him without that mischievous twinkle in his eye. When it came to his grandchildren, he somehow managed to convince all twelve of us that we were each, unequivocally, the favourite. Whether it was him sneaking us treats behind Grandma's back, taking us out of school for impromptu fishing trips, or passing on his fabled sauerkraut recipe, he had a way of showing each of us that we were special. And we loved him for it with all of our hearts. But he was always quick with the reminder that he loved us better, because he loved us first. While writing this I tried to think about what Grandpa would say if he were here. How he would try to comfort us. But I have come to the conclusion that he wouldn't say much. Instead he would come and sit by you, and he would take your hands in his. And with those hands that were so strong, that were so fast, and that were so soft, he would help you to carry your burdens. So instead I borrow words from his favourite author. "I will not say do not weep; for not all tears are an evil." What I will ask is that if you are going to cry, they not be tears of sadness for Grandpa having left us, but that they be tears of happiness for the time you spent together. Rejoice in the magical 96 year journey that we were all able to take part in. And when you leave here today, I ask that you all live your lives the way Johnnie did. Be big. Be strong. And bring your love to the world. John Michael Dobrowolski born May 24, 1918 passed away peacefully on Sept 8, 2014 at the age of 96. The sixth child of seven born to his Polish immigrant parents, John spent his youth on the farm in Secretan, Saskatchewan, before moving north in 1931 to Amiens, Saskatchewan. As a young man, John worked as a farm hand until World War 2 broke out in Europe. John and his good friend Jim could hardly wait to sign up for what they were sure would be a short adventure. He spent five years in the European arena with the R.C.E.M.E corps of the Canadian army. Upon returning to Canada in 1945, John went west to find work. He spent time picking fruit in BC and then landed a job at General Motors as a mechanic in their Vancouver operations. His heart longed to be on the farm again so in 1950 he made his way back to the Amiens area in Saskatchewan to try to scratch out a living. Lucky for us, it was there that he met the love of his life, Helen McCarron, and in 1952 they were married. For a short while, John worked at Red Pheasant teaching carpentry andmechanics to the residents on the reserve. Then, with his wife and two young children, they moved west looking for work. They spent a few happy years in Hinton, Alberta where John worked as a mechanic in a local shop and cut trees for the pulp mill. Helen stayed at home with their now three children. It wasn't long before the area around Silver Valley Alberta opened up for homesteading and John followed his dream of farming further north to the Peace River area. They spent a year in Spirit River before John was forced to look for work elsewhere. On his way to find work in Prince George, he dropped into the Dawson Bandag tire shop and was hired on the spot. He kept his farm in Silver Valley, but in 1965 he moved his family to Dawson Creek, where they settled in and welcomed their fourth child in 1967. John worked in the tire shop until 1978 when he retired due to health reasons. After that he loved staying home as chief cook and bottle washer. He never lost his passion for farming and continued to farm in Silver Valley until 1990. A great family man, John loved to spend time with his children and his grandchildren. He regularly attended mass at Notre Dame Church, and was a talented carver. He loved to travel and enjoyed his trips across Canada, to the high Arctic, New Zealand, Cancun, Arizona, and he made his way back to Saskatchewan whenever he could. John leaves to mourn his loving wife of 62 years, Helen Dobrowolski, his four children: Veronica (Dave) Shannon, Greg (Monica) Dobrowolski, Sally (Tim) Schilds, Judy Dobrowolski (Paul Whitehead), his twelve adorable varmints, and four great-grandchildren. He also leaves his sister Rose Janeczko, age 98, of Vernon, BC, as well as several nieces and nephews and in-laws. A man who truly loved and was loved, he will be greatly missed. Service 1:00 pm Saturday, September 13, 2014 Notre Dame Roman Catholic Church 908 - 104th Avenue DAWSON CREEK, British Columbia, Canada V1G 3H7 Interment Brookside Cemetery 108 ave DAWSON CREEK, British Columbia, Canada