I'd like to share one memory of my grandfather with you here. It came to me, written on a sheet of paper from, wait for it....my babysitter, M., who is now in her eighties and who looked after me many, many years ago when I was a very little girl in Drumheller, see photo of me, left, taken about 1943-44, with our dog, Mike.
M. told me a sad, but grateful to my grandfather, story. Her dear mother was stricken with a dreadful stroke on November 11, 1943. M.'s father ran down the alley from her house to that of my grandfather to summon the doctor. M. aged 9, and her sister. aged 11, sat with their mother until Robert arrived with his car and carried her with help from M.'s brothers out to his car and to the hospital. Although Robert did all he could, her mother never came out of the stroke and died 9 days later. She was 56 years old and left 11 children. My grandmother, Jennie, sent food and baking and kind words to the bereft family.
M. finished her story by writing her thanks from those still living who, " knew and loved your dear grandfather, Dr. T. R. Ross."