Hello all, I’m Eleanor, aka #3. I have the honour of representing my sisters to give you some personal stories about our dad, Loy. To summarize, my dad always thought himself a blessed and lucky man, and that attitude shaped how he connected with others and viewed his life.
Dad grew up in a tiny, roughly 600 sqr ft., 2-room flat in Bombay, India as the youngest of 6 children. There was not extra space or money to spare, yet he always spoke to us about the richness of his life – movies and singing with his older siblings, buying toffee from a vendor with a description so vivid you could feel it melting in your mouth, the crack of the bat at his cricket matches, his older sister yelling at every kid in the complex when report cards went home. There was life in every story he told, and we could smell and taste the joy in his life just by listening to his words.
Dad always said he was so blessed to have married my mom. He always told us when he met my mom, he loved that she listened to him and let him talk. And on our first family trip to India in 1977 - after we met all the Lobos - we TOTALLY understood! My mom’s quiet, subdued demeanor was quite a change from the boisterous Lobo households. With my dad’s gregarious nature, he brought deep friendships into his and mom’s lives from the time he touched his toe onto Canadian soil. But the socializing didn’t stop with his own generation. Any friends of ours were considered fair game, much to the embarrassment of his teenage daughters. I do remember one New Year’s Eve party of mine in our basement in 1989 wondering when he was going to go back upstairs like a regular dad. Much to my horror, my friends were enjoying his company and didn’t help at all with my plight.
He felt so blessed by his grandchildren, Jonah, Logan, Ainsley and Carys, and would dote on every adorable expression, and every turn of phrase, telling stories of them over and over with a smile a mile wide. His enthusiastic love was contagious, and he got cuddles and kisses from these teens without reservation. As the grandkids were inundated with gadgets and hi-tech toys, my dad would talk to them with wonder and joy about his one single toy that he had as a child, a spinning top. He still had so much excitement for that one single toy in his life.
No one would describe Dad as a handy man, yet somehow he would combine his warm hearted social skills with just the right friend or neighbour and come out with a new fence, shed, deck, hardwood floor or ceiling fan installation. And they were still friends with us after!
As 5 sisters, growing up we would always hear the phrase “Oh, your poor dad”…but never a peep of that kind of talk from my parents. Dad felt so blessed to have the five of us, and even when we would regard our modest home and life and ask him “Dad, don’t you wish you were rich?”, he would, without fail, respond “I am rich”. I think we used to ask him just to hear the answer.
In fact, a few months ago, when I was driving him to an appointment, he was laughing telling me a man he met found out that he had five daughters and said “Oh, Loy, you poor guy”. My dad said to me “I told him, what you are talking about? You’re always complaining to me that your two sons never visit you! My daughters do EVERYTHING for me – take me to the doctor, the dentist, for dinner, to church!” I was so touched.
We know that you all have seen this spirit of joy in my dad, as the past few days we’ve been inundated with stories from around the globe about dad engaging others with his exuberant tales of his many endeavors, past and present. So in our grief we are thankful for a father who taught us to recognize the blessings in everyday life.
