Ian Turnbull

Dear Catherine, you do not know me. My name is Momoye. I used to live in the same co-op house with your father for about two years during the late 1970s when we were both young and carefree.(I think Ian had just graduated from Humber College and was working for a cable TV company.) I was feeling nostalgic recently and started Googling old friends who drifted out of my life long ago. Your father was among them. I was stunned and saddened when I stumbled across this memorial page. When I saw the photos, I realized that it was indeed the same spirited, sensitive Ian Turnbull who rented the front main floor bedroom in that semi-detached house in the West Annex neighbourhood of Toronto. I could never forget his smile. Warm memories of Ian came flooding back to me...I have him frozen in time. I think our last visit was when he was in Toronto shortly before your birth. He and your mother came over to my house. I remember that she was pregnant....Anyway, although we made an effort to keep in touch, the weeks, months and years just slipped away and we lost contact with each other by the early 1990s. (Those were the days when people still wrote letters. I believe that I still have one of his letters somewhere.) Even after social media invaded our world, I never got around to looking your father up. Now, of course, I deeply I regret my procrastination. I was moved by your heartfelt tribute, Catherine. Obviously, your father was an exceptionally dedicated, caring parent who will endure forever in your heart. I remember how excited he was about your imminent arrival....My sincere condolences to you, your brother and all of Ian's loved ones. I'll always cherish my memories of your father.