Obituary of Brian Frank Longo
We are very saddened to announce the peaceful passing of Brian Longo on the date of December 8th, 2020 in the comfort of his home. Beloved husband of Frances, loving father of: Victor, Vanessa (Bob) and Megan (Oskar). Proud grandfather to: Nicholas, Kate, Isabel and Benedict; loving son of Vera and brother to Anne (Rado). Brian was predeceased by his father, Frank Longo and his younger brother, Dany. He was blessed with ten years of retirement, enjoying time with his grandchildren, hunting and fishing. Brian will be greatly missed by his family, many friends and neighbours. The family will receive guests at the GEORGE DARTE FUNERAL HOME, 585 Carlton St., St. Catharines on Sunday, December 13th, 2020 from 12:00pm-2:00pm with a ceremony at 2:00pm.
Eulogy for Brian Frank Longo
October 9, 1951 – December 8, 2020
Hello everyone and thank you all for coming. I’m Brian’s youngest daughter Megan, and it is my great honour and privilege to stand before you today to share a few words about my Dad. My plan is to try to tell the story of his wonderful life, which so many of us were lucky to be part of – some of you since the very beginnings.
The Early Years
Not long after my grandparents Frank and Vera Longo immigrated to Canada from Slovenia, my father arrived as their first-born child. He had what people today would call a “good temperament” – easy as a baby and always smiling. Growing up, my Dad spent most of his time on the family farm in Niagara on the Lake. Summers were spent working hard, picking fruit and tending to the farm; it was here that the seeds of his impeccable work ethic were sown. Dad proved himself to be a responsible and dependable young man – he was only 16 years old when his family left him home alone for 6 weeks to manage the farm while the rest of the family went to Slovenia.
But it wasn’t all hard work of course; no, the Longo family were a social bunch, and my Dad was no exception; there may even have been a party or two on the farm while the rest of the family was abroad but that’s a story for another time…just ask Stan or Walter. In these early years my Dad and his family often gathered with neighboring friends (many of which would go on to become life-long friendships) or at the local Slovenian Club “Lipa Park” for food, drink and of course music and dancing. You see, my Dad was born into a musically gifted family and while he never learned to play an instrument himself, he had a great ear for it and an eclectic taste which is something that I know he enjoyed many years after the parties stopped.
It was also in these early years on the farm that I believe my Dad’s passion for the outdoors began, something which would flourish later in life through many hunting and fishing adventures and gave him great joy right to the very end. When we were growing up, my Dad told us kids that if we planned on getting married, then we better not book our weddings in September, or else he’d not be able to attend because he’d be up north at moose camp. We lived by the Hunter calendar in the Longo house and that’s just how it was.
The Family-building Years
My Dad met my Mom nearly 60 years ago when they were children, she then 5 and he 9 years old. By the time they were teenagers, a romance had begun and in those years my Dad made what he later described as the best decision of his life – choosing my Mom to be his life partner. They were married in 1978, 42 years ago, and over the next several years the Longo family grew, first with Victor, then Vanessa, and finally, myself.
My Dad was a quintessential family man; whenever he wasn’t at work or out in the bush, he was with us at home or spending time with one of us kids in our various pursuits. He was a very loving father and took the time to really know each of us and help encourage our many interests while instilling in us some fundamental values which live on through our own families today. Dad would often refer to our family as a “team”; he felt it was important that we worked together and cooperated, and I know he derived great value from knowing how close we all remain as a family.
Many of you know my Dad as a hard-working man, with sharp and meticulous attention to detail – if ever he had cash in his wallet, you better believe that the bills were stacked so that the heads were all facing the same way. As children we would accompany our Dad as he went about his routine yardwork around the house, and by including us in his tasks, he passed down his work ethic to us. There were no shortcuts to a job well done in my Dad’s eyes.
He was always there for us with a helping hand – whatever we needed, we always knew we could count on our Dad to be there.
He also passed on his love of the outdoors to us kids. Victor learned to hunt and fish, Vanessa shared his passion for nature hikes and the three of us would go kayaking together, and we all bonded over a shared love for fitness. He was quietly proud of each of us, and while he was never too boastful, he made sure that we each knew it. He went out of his way to celebrate our accomplishments (big and small) to make us feel special.
To Victor, I know Dad was always so grateful to have had his first-born be a son. Not just to carry on the family name which he was so proud to have you bear, but mostly, so that he could rest easy knowing that there were a safe pair of hands to shepherd our family through a difficult time like this. Victor, I know that Dad was proud of you and he showed it in his own special way, and we are lucky to have you because you embody many of Dad’s positive qualities – with your work-ethic and the dutiful role you play with making sure Mom’s and our Grandmothers’ needs are met.
To Vanessa, you were Dad’s “other” blue-eyed beauty. The first in our family to graduate from university, you made Dad feel so very proud. You shared a common taste with him in art and natural beauty and I know he looked to you for your opinion on these things. But perhaps most importantly, you are the connector in our family and skilled events coordinator – I know Dad really appreciated when you hosted annual Father’s Day BBQs at your house and our last family cottage getaway last year. He derived a lot of joy from knowing that we were all close as siblings, and we owe much of this to you.
To me, Dad was more than just a father. We had a truly special bond, one that we nurtured through many, many long phone calls while I was living abroad. And as the physical distance between us grew, our bond only strengthened. At one point when I was probably 20 years old, I told my father that if we weren’t already connected as family, that I would choose him for a friend. He was an exceptional conversationalist, and he had an amazing sense of humour – I am going to miss my talks with him the most.
Retirement, or as I like to call it “The Not So Empty Nest”
With all his children finally out of the house and through schooling, my Dad retired in January 2009 after more than 30 years at General Motors. Now, most people in retirement, I understand, like to take up new activities – they might start playing more golf or bridge, maybe do a little traveling….Not my Dad – he pivoted a hard right into diaper duty and Dr. Seuss about a year into his retirement by taking his 6-month old grandson Nicholas into his care part time while Nicholas’ parents went to work; and my Dad and Nick became fast friends. Years later, when my sister Vanessa was expecting her first child, my Dad let her know that he’d be willing to offer full-time Grandpa Daycare when the time came for her to return to work, which she smartly took him up on. Once again, my Dad found himself elbows-deep in diapers, and he and little Kate (his “sweetie pie”) became fast friends too. I think I speak on behalf of everyone that we were all a bit surprised and impressed with his childcare skills
During his retirement years, my Dad proved his dependability once again to his family, through daily visits to his mother’s house and later to her nursing home. Right up until the onset of his illness, he was with his mother in person every single day, and I know this meant so much to my Grandmother and will be missed in a way which I simply cannot fathom.
As a neighbor, Dad was the kind of guy who greeted people in the yard with his beaming smile and warm and energetic “hello”. If you were leaving for more than a few days, you’d come home to see that your grass had been cut, the flowers had been watered and the mail taken in for you – he was as much a gift to his community as he was to his family.
One of the most amazing things to have witnessed during his retirement period was the tremendous growth in my father’s character through being so involved as a Grandfather. Growing up, he could often be a tough guy on the outside, but we watched him soften up like a marshmallow in his golden years. It was during this time that he developed a newfound appreciation for our Mom – through caring for his grandkids as much as he did, he realized again what a special women he had found in our Mother from her many years of commitment in raising up our family, and he made sure he told us and her how lucky he felt.
Mom – yours was a united love, a true love. Dad and you were true to your marriage vows. In his final weeks, when he and I were at home alone, and we’d enjoy a small meal of yours together, he’d remind me “she’s a good woman”. You were his number one, unconditionally, and we all knew it, felt it, always. You were an incredible partner to him; “they don’t make many women like her” he would say, and both Dad and we knew he had something very special in you. Yours is the kind of bond that death simply cannot diminish.
The Final Chapter
My Dad, ever stoic and brave, confronted the face of life’s end with acceptance and a sense of calm and of course, with his dry wit sense of humour right to his very last day when he told us he was “eating like a high school girl” now. He left it all on the field when it came to his fight with cancer and we are thankful for the extra months we got to share together. But if we had one regret, it would be that we didn't take the time over the years to collect the many one-liners my Dad was so famous for. Like he had the perfect, 100% effective, guaranteed diet plan: ”keep your mouth shut”. And he was famous for standing near the grandstands at Henley Island race course shouting “Atta Boy, Girls!” to our all-girls rowing crew as we came to the finish line – “Atta Boy, Girls!”. If you have any favourite one-liners, please take the time to share them with me so I can finally put together the book of “Brianisms”.
We’re not sure if it was his stubbornness or sheer will and determination, or more likely some combination of all three, but even in his final weeks when his health was declining, he was focused on his passion to be out in the woods hunting. Even when he couldn’t get around without a walker or cane, he was still determined to be out in the bush, sitting in a blind, with his cross-bow cocked and at the ready, waiting for that perfect moment for a deer to cross his path. As his neighbor and friend Jack said it best, “The deer trails were his home and the hunt mattered as much to him as the kill.”
Dad cherished his family and many friends. And after taking care of others for so long, it was finally our chance to take care of him. We are the fortunate ones, to have known his love and all the laughter that we shared and the sorrows too. What wonderful memories he leaves behind. Dad has gone with our love and prayers. There is no goodbye, just a loving farewell and a warm thank you for being a loving husband to Mom, a dedicated father to Victor, Vanessa and I, a dutiful son to his mother Vera and caring brother to his sister Annie, and an exceptionally loving and involved grandfather to Nicholas, Kate, Isabel and Benedict, as well as a great friend and neighbour to so many.
Dad, I hope the sun is shining up in heaven, that there are little diamonds glinting in the snow, that the wind is still, and the birds are quietly circling in flight. And most of all Dad, I hope that a Big Buck comes walking your way.