Obituary of Grant Robert Ernest Smail

GRANT ROBERT ERNEST SMAIL

1962 - 2026

 

Grant was born in Durban, South Africa on a hot summer’s day on 12 December 1962 to Molly and Bert Smail.

 

Grant had three sisters, Lyle who lives in England, Laurel who unfortunately passed away several years ago and Meryll who lives in West Vancouver.

 

Nieces and Nephews include Andrew and Simon in the UK, Tristen and Chelsea, Davis and Jacqueline in BC. Great niece and nephew Tessa and Henry in the UK. Grant also has a much loved and thought about son Justin, whereabouts unknown.

 

The family enjoyed a comfortable lifestyle in South Africa. Grant attended progressive schools for mild dyslexia. Grant then attended the elite Cordwalles Boys Prep school in Pietermaritzburg. Then onto The Elsenburg Agricultural Training Institute, a small College near the famous wine making region of Stellenbosch in the Western Cape which cemented Grant’s love of the great outdoors and all that it entails.

 

Many idyllic weekends and holidays were enjoyed on the beach south of Durban at our Grandparents holiday cottage where hours were spent in rock pools searching for crayfish and swimming in the Indian Ocean. Grant enjoyed chasing the screaming sisters with creepy crawlies and was willing to participate in their games.

 

The family moved to York Mills in Toronto where he attended St Wilfred’s School. In November 1978 the family arrived at Gatwick Airport in the UK and Dad said to the railway station attendant, “Where is a nice place to live?” “mmmm Eastbourne is nice” and there the family remained for a nice couple of years then moved to beautiful Vancouver where he became a fully-fledged Canadian citizen – and very proud of it.

 

Grant and sister Laurel were heavily involved in ocean-life and Grant continued to work surrounded by his great love of the ocean and wide-open spaces.

 

Meryll, Grant and her family became very close when he lived with them while the children were growing and they all have very fond memories of Uncle Grant’s catering and patience!

 

Grant found his “Happy Peaceful Place” in the last chapter of his life, a little place in Northern British Columbia known as the Buck (BuckingHorse River Lodge). Along with great friends there.

 

Grant’s love of humour, serious discussions, and excellent command of the English Language endeared him to all. The family poem "IF" made an impact on the young Grant and endeavoured to make it a blueprint of his life together with a deep Christian faith background made him the man we knew and loved.

 

The Family would like to thank the good people in the North, his great friends who rallied around our kind, chivalrous, big-hearted brother when he needed you the most. He was grateful to have had the opportunity to tell you all what you meant to him and gave us the privilege to say our goodbyes with tears and laughter.

 

 

 

 IF  by Rudyard Kipling

 

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!

 

Amen

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