Obituary

Hilarious Obituary That Has Circled the Globe

MaryStocks

Mary Stocks Obituary

STOCKS, Mary Patricia (nee Morris) —

Pat Stocks, 94, passed away peacefully at her home in bed July 1, 2015. It is believed it was caused from carrying her oxygen tank up the long flight of stairs to her bedroom that made her heart give out. She left behind a hell of a lot of stuff to her daughter and sons who have no idea what to do with it. So if you’re looking for 2 extremely large TV’s from the 90s, a large ceramic stork (we think) umbrella/cane stand, a toaster oven (slightly used) or even a 2001 Oldsmobile with a spoiler (she loved putting the pedal to the metal), with only 71,000 kilometers and 1,000 tools that we aren’t sure what they’re used for. You should wait the appropriate amount of time and get in touch. Tomorrow would be fine. This is not an ad for a pawn shop, but an obituary for a great Woman, Mother, Grandmother and Great-Grandmother born on May 12, 1921 in Toronto, the daughter of the late Pop (Alexander C.) and Granny (Annie Nigh) Morris. She leaves behind a very dysfunctional family that she was very proud of. Pat was world-renowned for her lack of patience, not holding back her opinion and a knack for telling it like it is. She always told you the truth even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. It was the school of hard knocks and yes we were told many times how she had to walk for miles in a blizzard to get to school, so suck it up. With that said she was genuine to a fault, a pussy cat at heart (or lion) and yet she sugar coated nothing. Her extensive vocabulary was more than highly proficient at knowing more curse words than most people learned in a lifetime. She liked four letter words as much as she loved her rock garden and trust us she LOVED to weed that garden with us as her helpers, when child labour was legal or so we were told. These words of encouragement, wisdom, and sometimes comfort, kept us in line, taught us the “school of hard knocks” and gave us something to pass down to our children. Everyone always knew where you stood with her. She liked you or she didn’t, it was black or white. As her children we are still trying to figure out which one it was for us (we know she loved us). She was a master cook in the kitchen. She believed in overcooking everything until it chewed like rubber so you would never get sick because all germs would be nuked. Freezing germs also worked, so by Friday our school sandwiches were hard and chewy, but totally germ free. All four of us learned to use a napkin. You would pretend to cough, spit the food into it and thus was born the Stocks diet. If anyone would like a copy of her homemade gravy, we would suggest you don’t. She will be sorely missed and survived by her brother George Morris, children: Shauna (Stocks) Perreault, Paul/Sandy (Debbie) Stocks and Kirk Stocks, son-in-law Ian Milnes and son from another mother, John McCleery, grandchildren: Lesley (Sean), Lindsay (Lucas), Ashley (James), David (Tia), Brett, Erin (Brian), Sean, Alex, Courtney and Taylor and great-grandchildren: Connor, Emily, Ainsley, Tyler and Jack. She was preceded in death by her loving husband Paul (Moo) Stocks and eldest daughter Shelley (Stocks) Milnes and beloved pets Tag, Tag, Tag and Tag. All whom loved her dearly and will never forget her tenacity, wit, charm, grace (when pertinent) and undying love and caring for them. Please give generously to covenanthousetoronto.ca “in memory”. A private family ‘Celebration of Life’ will be held, in lieu of a service, due to her friends not being able to attend, because they decided to beat her to the Pearly Gates. Please note her change of address to her new place of residence, St John’s York Mills Anglican Church, 19 Don Ridge Drive, 12 doors away from Shelley’s place.

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STOCKS, Mary Patricia (nee Morris) —

Pat Stocks, 94, passed away peacefully at her home in bed July 1, 2015. It is believed it was caused from carrying her oxygen tank up the long flight of stairs to her bedroom that made her heart give out. She left behind a hell of a lot of stuff to her daughter and sons who have no idea what to do with it. So if you’re looking for 2 extremely large TV’s from the 90s, a large ceramic stork (we think) umbrella/cane stand, a toaster oven (slightly used) or even a 2001 Oldsmobile with a spoiler (she loved putting the pedal to the metal), with only 71,000 kilometers and 1,000 tools that we aren’t sure what they’re used for. You should wait the appropriate amount of time and get in touch. Tomorrow would be fine. This is not an ad for a pawn shop, but an obituary for a great Woman, Mother, Grandmother and Great-Grandmother born on May 12, 1921 in Toronto, the daughter of the late Pop (Alexander C.) and Granny (Annie Nigh) Morris. She leaves behind a very dysfunctional family that she was very proud of. Pat was world-renowned for her lack of patience, not holding back her opinion and a knack for telling it like it is. She always told you the truth even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. It was the school of hard knocks and yes we were told many times how she had to walk for miles in a blizzard to get to school, so suck it up. With that said she was genuine to a fault, a pussy cat at heart (or lion) and yet she sugar coated nothing. Her extensive vocabulary was more than highly proficient at knowing more curse words than most people learned in a lifetime. She liked four letter words as much as she loved her rock garden and trust us she LOVED to weed that garden with us as her helpers, when child labour was legal or so we were told. These words of encouragement, wisdom, and sometimes comfort, kept us in line, taught us the “school of hard knocks” and gave us something to pass down to our children. Everyone always knew where you stood with her. She liked you or she didn’t, it was black or white. As her children we are still trying to figure out which one it was for us (we know she loved us). She was a master cook in the kitchen. She believed in overcooking everything until it chewed like rubber so you would never get sick because all germs would be nuked. Freezing germs also worked, so by Friday our school sandwiches were hard and chewy, but totally germ free. All four of us learned to use a napkin. You would pretend to cough, spit the food into it and thus was born the Stocks diet. If anyone would like a copy of her homemade gravy, we would suggest you don’t. She will be sorely missed and survived by her brother George Morris, children: Shauna (Stocks) Perreault, Paul/Sandy (Debbie) Stocks and Kirk Stocks, son-in-law Ian Milnes and son from another mother, John McCleery, grandchildren: Lesley (Sean), Lindsay (Lucas), Ashley (James), David (Tia), Brett, Erin (Brian), Sean, Alex, Courtney and Taylor and great-grandchildren: Connor, Emily, Ainsley, Tyler and Jack. She was preceded in death by her loving husband Paul (Moo) Stocks and eldest daughter Shelley (Stocks) Milnes and beloved pets Tag, Tag, Tag and Tag. All whom loved her dearly and will never forget her tenacity, wit, charm, grace (when pertinent) and undying love and caring for them. Please give generously to covenanthousetoronto.ca “in memory”. A private family ‘Celebration of Life’ will be held, in lieu of a service, due to her friends not being able to attend, because they decided to beat her to the Pearly Gates. Please note her change of address to her new place of residence, St John’s York Mills Anglican Church, 19 Don Ridge Drive, 12 doors away from Shelley’s place.

Published in the Toronto Star on July 18, 2015

– See more at: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/thestar/obituary.aspx?pid=175314461#sthash.KFs6Uqb4.dpuf

Angus B. McDonald Obituary

The grim reaper came for me on Friday March 25, 2016.  I bought the farm.  I bit the dust.  So I guess I’m off to the promised land eh?  The promised land!  Imagine!

Anyway, I was born at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Glace Bay on Nov. 26, 1948.  Of 13 children in the family, I was the sixth born.

I was predeceased by four brothers, Lawrence 1943, Pat 1990, Kevin 1999, Allen 2010.

I am survived by my OG Brenda, Tower Road; my three children, Tyler, Stratford, Ont., Lawrence and his wife, Lisa, St. Mary’s, Ont. and Coady, Tower Road and my grandchildren, Nicole MacDonald, Glace Bay, Charlise MacDonald, Stratford, Ont., Hayden and Nathan MacDonald, St. Mary’s, Ont. and Haille and Lukas MacLeod, St. Mary’s, Ont.

So anyway, I think I was a pretty nice guy, despite being a former punk and despite what some people would say about me.  What did they know about me anyway?  I loved my family and cared for them through good times and bad;  I did my best.

I had some serious health problems the last few years, but survived them (up till now anyway) with the help of my wife, Brenda; my granddaughter, Nicole; my sweetheart little dog, Scarlett, and my rescue kitten, Dolly.

Elaine and Sonya and all the other nurses from the VON and the doctors and nurses at the Cape Breton Cancer Centre, the Palliative Care nurses and doctors, Dr. Archibald and doctors and nurses at Glace Bay hospital.

My little dog Scarlett died Sept. 2013, and there really are no words to describe what a total destresser Scarlett was for me.  So I guess if there’s a place in the after-life where little dogs and old dawgs go, then that’s where you’ll find me and Scarlett.  Maybe I’ll see you all there sometime.

Besides my wife, children and grandchildren, the single most wonderful event in my life was spending three years at UCCB, now CBU where I earned my BACS Degree, 1992 grad.

I don’t want a funeral.  A funeral is a waste of harrrrrrd earned and harrrrrrd saved money that my family can use now.  

I was a very private person in life, so I don’t want to end that life with people gawking at me while I lay in a coffin.

I’m being cremated and my ashes are being scattered (somewhere).  So instead of going to see the great creator, I will be going to see the great cremater.

Memorial donations may be made to the Palliative Care Unit at the Cape Breton Regional Hospital

For those who would like to express condolences, visitation will take place on Thursday, March 31, 2016 from 1-3 p.m. in Patten Funeral Home, 71 Union St., Glace Bay, with memorial service to follow at 3 p.m.

Happy trails!  Love Angus B. MacDonald.”

Funny Obituary

Danny Lloyd, aka Rooster, aka Winston, aka Pizza Pop, passed away on April 25th at the age of 64, “to avoid having to pay taxes for the past year and to avoid another year of his New York Yankees not winning the World Series.”  

 A celebration of life will be held at 5:00 pm on Sunday, May 20, 2018 at Davidson Funeral Home in Lexington.  The family will receive friends following the service.  

 Danny is survived by his sons, Frank Callicutt (Beth) and Chris Lloyd; daughters, Abbie Callicutt and Heather Lloyd, all of Lexington and five grandchildren; Mary Lloyd, Annabell and Abbie Callicutt, and Liam and Charlie Blackerby.  He is also survived by three siblings; James Lloyd (Tanya), David Lloyd and Suzie Lloyd.  He was preceded in death by his parents, Charles and Barbara Kimball Lloyd.

 He was a generous man – giving away many of his possessions in the months before he died.  He even left his car to twelve different friends, depending upon who visited him last.  He was a life-long ticket scalper and broker, or as he called it “a facilitator of supply/demand economics.”  Once when asked about any regrets from his ticket sales, Danny confessed, “There was that time I told a Carolina fan that he needed to buy my ticket immediately if he wanted to hear Dean Smith sing the National Anthem.”  

 Danny was cremated – for two reasons:  There could be no viewing since his family refused to honor his request to have him standing in the corner of the room with a sign saying “Buying Tickets” in one hand, and in his other hand a sign saying “Selling Tickets” so that he would appear natural and life-like to his visitors.  

 Because his brother played football for Wake Forest University, Danny was a lifelong Demon Deacon fan, and he had respectfully requested six Wake Forest pall bearers so that the “Deacs” could “let him down” one last time.

 Danny has informed Hampton Inn that they can finally reinstate their pledge to not charge anyone who is not 100% satisfied, as he will no longer be staying there.

 For those attending his memorial service, please ignore Danny’s scalper friends who might be offering to upgrade your seat for a small price.  To any crooks reading this:  None of the family and friends attending this service have anything of value.  Remember, he gave his car to a dozen of us.  And one of his sons is Chris “Country” Lloyd, so it is certainly not worth the risk. 

 Danny Lloyd loved his siblings a little bit, and his children even more.  But those grandkids…they stole his heart.  They were the reason he lived his final 4 years with a sober mind and a giving heart.

 We loved him.  And we already miss him.

Aaron Purmort

Full Obituary

“Age 35, died peacefully at home on November 25 after complications from a radioactive spider bite that led to years of crime-fighting and a years long battle with a nefarious criminal named Cancer, who has plagued our society for far too long.  

Civilians will recognize him best as Spider-Man, and thank him for his many years of service protecting our city.

His family knew him only as a kind and mild-mannered Art Director, a designer of websites and t-shirts and concert posters who always had the right cardigan and the right thing to say (even if it was wildly inappropriate).  

Aaron was known for his long, entertaining stories, which he loved to repeat often.

In high school, he was in the band ‘The Asparagus Children’, which reached critical acclaim in the northern suburbs.  

As an adult, he graduated from the College of Visual Arts (which also died an untimely death recently) and worked in several agencies around Minneapolis, settling in as an Interactive Associate Creative Director at Colle + McVoy.  

Aaron was a comic book aficionado, a pop-culture encyclopedia and always the most fun person at any party.

He is survived by his parents, Bill and Kim Kuhlmeyer, father Mark Purmort (Patricia, Autumn, Aly), sisters Erika and Nicole, first wife Gwen Stefani, current wife Nora and their son Ralph, who will grow up to avenge his father’s untimely death.”

A service will be held on December 3, 2014.

William Ziegler passed away on July 29, 2016 at the age of 69 “to avoid having to make a decision in the pending presidential election,” according to the obituary written by Ziegler’s four children.

Ziegler’s obituary also mentions his love for the “morons and mental patients” that he served with as a fireman, sending tasteless internet jokes, potted meat and his “alcoholic dog Judge”.

While this obituary is full of humour, Ziegler’s daughter shared with the Times-Picayune the meaning behind the hilarious obituary saying that her father would always email funny obituaries he found online so that they could have a laugh.

All jokes aside, the obituary ends with a heartfelt, “He will be greatly missed.”

Full Obituary

“William Ziegler escaped this mortal realm on Friday, July 29, 2016 at the age of 69.  We think he did it on purpose to avoid having to make a decision in the pending presidential election.

He leaves behind four children, five grand-children, and the potted meat industry, for which he was an unofficial spokesman until dietary restrictions forced him to eat real food.

William volunteered for service in the United States Navy at the ripe old age of 17 and immediately realized he didn’t much enjoy being bossed around.  He only stuck it out for one war.  Before his discharge, however, the government exchanged numerous ribbons and medals for various honorable acts.

Upon his return to the City of New Orleans in 1971, thinking it best to keep an eye on him, government officials hired William as a fireman.  After twenty-five years, he suddenly realized that running away from burning buildings made more sense than running toward them.  He promptly retired.

Looking back, William stated that there was no better group of morons and mental patients than those he had the privilege of serving with (except Bob, he never liked you, Bob).

Following his wishes, there will not be a service, but well-wishers are encouraged to write a note of farewell on a Schaefer Light beer can and drink it in his honor.

He was never one for sentiment or religiosity, but he wanted you to know that if he owes you a beer, and if you can find him in Heaven, he will gladly allow you to buy him another.  He can likely be found forwarding tasteless internet jokes (check your spam folder, but don’t open these at work).

Expect to find an alcoholic dog named Judge passed out at his feet.  Unlike previous times, this is not a ploy to avoid creditors or old girlfriends.  He assures us that he is gone. He will be greatly missed.”

Published in The Times-Picayune on Aug. 12, 2016.

Emily Philip’s Self-penned Obituary

“It pains me to admit it, but apparently, I have passed away.  Everyone told me it would happen one day but that’s simply not something I wanted to hear, much less experience.  Once again I didn’t get things my way!  That’s been the story of my life all my life.

And while on that subject (the story of my life)… on February 9, 1946 my parents and older sister celebrated my birth and I was introduced to all as Emily DeBrayda Fisher, the daughter of Clyde and Mary Fisher from Hazelwood.  

I can’t believe that happened in the first half of the last century but there are records on file in the Court House which can corroborate this claim.

Just two years later when another baby girl was born, I became known as the middle sister of the infamous three Fisher Girls, and the world was changed forever.

As a child I walked to the old Hazelwood Elementary School where teachers like Mrs. McCracken, Mrs.  Davis and Mrs.  Moody planted the seed that eventually led me to becoming a teacher.  

I proudly started my teaching career at that same elementary school in January 1968, and from there I went on to teach young children in the neighboring states of Virginia, Georgia, as well as Florida where I retired after 25 years.

So many things in my life seemed of little significance at the time they happened but then took on a greater importance as I got older.  The memories I’m taking with me now are so precious and have more value than all the gold and silver in my jewelry box.

Memories … where do I begin? 

Well, I remember Mother wearing an apron; I remember Daddy calling Square Dances; I remember my older sister pushing me off my tricycle (on the cinder driveway); I remember my younger sister sleep walking out of the house.

I remember grandmother Nonnie who sewed exquisite dresses for me when I was little; I remember grandmother Mamateate wringing a chicken’s neck so we could have Sunday dinner.

I remember being the bride in our Tom Thumb Wedding in first grade and performing skits for the 4-H Club later in grade five.  I remember cutting small rosebuds still wet with dew to wear to school on spring mornings, and I remember the smell of newly mowed grass.  

I remember the thrill of leading our high school band down King Street in New Orleans for Mardi Gras (I was head majorette).  I remember representing Waynesville in the Miss North Carolina Pageant, and yes, I twirled my baton to the tune of “Dixie”.  It could have been no other way.

I married the man of my dreams (tall, dark, and handsome) on December 16, 1967 and from that day on I was proud to be Mrs. Charlie Phillips, Grand Diva Of All Things Domestic.  

Our plan was to have two children, a girl and a boy.  Inexplicably we were successful in doing exactly that when we were blessed with our daughter Bonnie and then later our son Scott.  Seeing these two grow into who they were supposed to be brought a wonderful sense of meaning to our lives.

This might be a good time to mend fences. 

I apologize for making sweet Bonnie wear No Frills jeans when she was little and for “red-shirting” Scott in kindergarten.  Apparently each of these things was humiliating to them but both were able to rise above their shame and become very successful adults.  

I’d also like to apologize to Mary Ann for tearing up her paper dolls and to Betsy for dating a guy she had a crush on.

Just when I thought I was too old to fall in love again, I became a grandmother, and my five grand-angels stole not only my heart, but also spent most of my money.  Sydney Elizabeth, Jacob McKay, and Emma Grace (all Uprights) have enriched my life more than words can say.  

Sydney’s “one more, no more” when she asked for a cookie; Jake saying he was “sick as a cat” when I’d said that someone else was sick as a dog; and Emma cutting her beautiful long hair and then proceeding to shave off one of her eyebrows … Yes, these are a few of my favorite things.  

They’re treasures that are irreplaceable and will go with me wherever my journey takes me.

I’ve always maintained that my greatest treasures call me Nana.  That’s not exactly true.  You see, the youngest of my grand-angels, William Fisher Phillips and Charlie Jackson Phillips call me “Nana Banana”.  (Thank you Chris and Scott for having such spunky children.) 

These two are also apt to insist that I “get their hiney” whenever I visit, and since I’m quite skilled in that area, I’ve always been able to oblige.  (I actually hold the World’s Record for “Hiney Getting,” a title that I wear with pride.)

Speaking of titles…I’ve held a few in my day.  

I’ve been a devoted daughter, an energetic teenager, a WCU graduate (summa cum laude), a loving wife, a comforting mother, a dedicated teacher, a true and loyal friend, and a spoiling grandmother.  And if you don’t believe it, just ask me.  Oh wait, I’m afraid it’s too late for questions.  Sorry.

So … I was born; I blinked; and it was over.  

No buildings named after me; no monuments erected in my honor.  But I DID have the chance to know and love each and every friend as well as all my family members.  How much more blessed can a person be?  

So in the end, remember… do your best, follow your arrow, and make something amazing out of your life.  Oh, and never stop smiling.

If you want to, you can look for me in the evening sunset or with the earliest spring daffodils or amongst the flitting and fluttering butterflies.  You know I’ll be there in one form or another.  

Of course that will probably comfort some while antagonizing others, but you know me… it’s what I do.

I’ll leave you with this…please don’t cry because I’m gone; instead be happy that I was here.  (Or maybe you can cry a little bit.  After all, I have passed away).

Today I am happy and I am dancing.  Probably naked.

Love you forever

Mary Stocks Obituary

STOCKS, Mary Patricia (nee Morris) —

Pat Stocks, 94, passed away peacefully at her home in bed July 1, 2015. It is believed it was caused from carrying her oxygen tank up the long flight of stairs to her bedroom that made her heart give out. She left behind a hell of a lot of stuff to her daughter and sons who have no idea what to do with it. So if you’re looking for 2 extremely large TV’s from the 90s, a large ceramic stork (we think) umbrella/cane stand, a toaster oven (slightly used) or even a 2001 Oldsmobile with a spoiler (she loved putting the pedal to the metal), with only 71,000 kilometers and 1,000 tools that we aren’t sure what they’re used for. You should wait the appropriate amount of time and get in touch. Tomorrow would be fine. This is not an ad for a pawn shop, but an obituary for a great Woman, Mother, Grandmother and Great-Grandmother born on May 12, 1921 in Toronto, the daughter of the late Pop (Alexander C.) and Granny (Annie Nigh) Morris. She leaves behind a very dysfunctional family that she was very proud of. Pat was world-renowned for her lack of patience, not holding back her opinion and a knack for telling it like it is. She always told you the truth even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. It was the school of hard knocks and yes we were told many times how she had to walk for miles in a blizzard to get to school, so suck it up. With that said she was genuine to a fault, a pussy cat at heart (or lion) and yet she sugar coated nothing. Her extensive vocabulary was more than highly proficient at knowing more curse words than most people learned in a lifetime. She liked four letter words as much as she loved her rock garden and trust us she LOVED to weed that garden with us as her helpers, when child labour was legal or so we were told. These words of encouragement, wisdom, and sometimes comfort, kept us in line, taught us the “school of hard knocks” and gave us something to pass down to our children. Everyone always knew where you stood with her. She liked you or she didn’t, it was black or white. As her children we are still trying to figure out which one it was for us (we know she loved us). She was a master cook in the kitchen. She believed in overcooking everything until it chewed like rubber so you would never get sick because all germs would be nuked. Freezing germs also worked, so by Friday our school sandwiches were hard and chewy, but totally germ free. All four of us learned to use a napkin. You would pretend to cough, spit the food into it and thus was born the Stocks diet. If anyone would like a copy of her homemade gravy, we would suggest you don’t. She will be sorely missed and survived by her brother George Morris, children: Shauna (Stocks) Perreault, Paul/Sandy (Debbie) Stocks and Kirk Stocks, son-in-law Ian Milnes and son from another mother, John McCleery, grandchildren: Lesley (Sean), Lindsay (Lucas), Ashley (James), David (Tia), Brett, Erin (Brian), Sean, Alex, Courtney and Taylor and great-grandchildren: Connor, Emily, Ainsley, Tyler and Jack. She was preceded in death by her loving husband Paul (Moo) Stocks and eldest daughter Shelley (Stocks) Milnes and beloved pets Tag, Tag, Tag and Tag. All whom loved her dearly and will never forget her tenacity, wit, charm, grace (when pertinent) and undying love and caring for them. Please give generously to covenanthousetoronto.ca “in memory”. A private family ‘Celebration of Life’ will be held, in lieu of a service, due to her friends not being able to attend, because they decided to beat her to the Pearly Gates. Please note her change of address to her new place of residence, St John’s York Mills Anglican Church, 19 Don Ridge Drive, 12 doors away from Shelley’s place.