Francis Granger Harris
- Born: 6 Mar 1928, Woburn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario
- Marriage (1): Muriel Anne Taylor on 8 Apr 1950 in St. Nicholas Anglican Church, Scarborough, Ontario
- Marriage (2): June Margaret Dudley on 25 Jun 1971 in Kingsway-Lambton United Church, Etobicoke
- Marriage (3): Margery Bernice McKibbon in Jul 1986 in Nestleton, Ontario
- Died: 5 Jun 2007, Royal Victoria Hospital, Barrie, Ontario aged 79
- Buried: Portion of Ashes Interred at Pine Hills Cemetery, Toronto, Ontario
Cause of his death was Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (C.O.P.D.)
Another name for Francis was Frank Harris.
Secondary cause of death was Aortic Stenosis - his time of death was 11:57 a.m.
A portion of Frank's ashes are scattered over Lake Scugog (near Scugog Point, Nestleton) and also over the final resting place of Margery McKibbon - in the front yard of the McKibbon family home at Scugog Point, Nestleton.
The remainder of Frank's ashes were interred in the John Dickinson Harris family plot at Pine Hills Cemetery on September 8, 2007. On that same day graveside services were held for Frank and his Aunt & Uncle - Margaret (Harris) Salvador & Carlo Salvador.
Frank's second wife, June M. Dudley, also had a portion of her ashes interred with Frank at Pine Hills Cemetery. They share the same gravestone.
Events in his/her life:
• Memorial Speech: Speech, 23 Jun 2007, Grandview Farm - King City, Ontario. A Tribute To My Father - Frank G. Harris
June 23, 2007 - Memorial Service
I thank you all for coming today to pay tribute to my Father Frank. He would be so proud to know that his name and reputation managed to “pull” in such an extraordinary crowd.
I, and my family, are forever indebted to Bob & Sandra Sillcox for letting us use their beautiful farm for Dad’s memorial service - he would have been so honoured to know that such a grand gesture was granted to him.
Nobody has read or heard the speech I am about to embark on...I just hope that open minds prevail on this day - let us consider who we are here to honour...understand that my Father was an eccentric on many levels and this speech is for him, and him alone. I am hoping to convey to all of you the man that he was and the man that most people loved him for.
I have sat in front of my computer at least 7 times over the last two weeks, ready to pen the perfect tribute to the man molded my character, the man that largely contributed to who I am as a person today. Every time the screen remained blank...just a lot of white - just thinking about writing this tribute made me want to fold into a ball under the desk - a mess of torn feelings and tears. How could I perfectly pen a letter of this caliber? Are there enough words in the language to say what I wish to say? It was just last night while staring at the endless white electrical void that a loud and full voice came in my head and sarcastically stated “will ya just get it done already? Quit procrastinating for Christ sake, you don’t even really need to write it...just be yourself and wing it - if they don’t like what you say, who cares...you said it and you meant it! If they disown you then they weren’t goo d enough to be your friends.”
This is my Father’s voice...the one he gradually, over a span of 41 years, implanted in my brain - I just can’t shake it off no matter. Some would say that a booming and overwhelming voice (which he surely possessed) barking such a phrase is a callous and unfeeling one...a voice of discontent or disappointment. To me it is the voice that comforts me...motivates me and causes me to be a man of action...not a man of flaccid words and blissful ideology. My Dad would never have deluded himself with such fancy - he would never have been so lacking in self confidence that he couldn’t speak the truth about someone - be they lover, friend, enemy or stranger. This trait was his best friend, and his largest foe in his lifetime.
As I write this speech the voice in my head is quickly directing my fingers...no holds barred - THE TRUTH shall set me free from this writers block. Dad tells me to keep it light, be humourous, memorials and funerals are so depressing you can’t help but try and pick it up a bit..most will be in awe that you can discuss the ever so serious issue of my death with a flair of humour and a touch of mental instability. You need to finish this speech without breaking down. I say to him that this was something that he could not do at any funeral or memorial service when he was called upon to speak...he couldn’t even make it to the podium the last three memorials he attended. In fact, I don’t think he ever made it to any podium at any memorial...but for some unknown reason he thinks I am better than he ever was. He views me as the fusion between my Mother & himself. He says “Your Mother was an emotional genius - a dreamer, and a truly good person who never thought ill of anyone, whether they hurt her or not. Then he says that he was a realist...sometimes too real, sometimes too negative...oftentimes impulsive...victimized by his intense passion regarding just about anything. Then he says...”but you sonny boy are the best of both of us - the result of two extreme and polarized personalities rolled into one - take our best parts and make it all you. You are an intelligent, realistic, strong, peace-loving, talented, charismatic, loving, argumentative, intricate, complicated, intuitive, un-defeatable, good person that has been fashioned by the machine of intention - your Mother and I made many mistakes with you...but look at you know...regardless of your results today, no matter what they think of your tribute to me...you are a winner...because my son is allowed nothing less.
O.K.!, I say to myself. Then I question myself for saying O.K. out loud to myself...on I type.
Dad’s voice says - “What are your top three memories of me?”
Well, that’s an easy one...when I think of you Dad my first thought is of your legendary and iron clad memory for dates, names, places, times and occurrences....not just things that have occurred lately, but even things that happened before your time - throughout history. I could never win any debate with you, nor could I come close to you in any trivia game. If I asked the question, you knew the answer - within seconds. Not bad for guy that dropped out of high school in the 9th grade I say. I hear nothing in my head...obviously he concurs with this statement. He then adds....well, you are my equal now...you too possess this talent. Those that know me will agree to this..and the fact that I am publicly stating it shows that his super sized ego has passed on to me as well. We know we’re good don’t we son? He says.
O.K...that’s one thing..what’s #2 top memory he asks?
Well, you’re not going to like this one I say. Lets talk for a while about your often times lack of self-control with your words, your money, your feelings, your viewpoints and especially your desires to partake in certain physical activities with persons of the opposite sex. You were a good Father....but you were a rotten husband. He sighs in a tone of somewhat agreement...hey, he says, desperately trying to squeeze out of this one. “You met your best friend - the one you have known and loved for 35 years, shit, wasn’t he the best man at your wedding? - hell, when both of you each had your first child it was each other you called first to share the joyful news with, now that’s a close friend don’t you think...I never had one like that. He goes on; hey Jimmy, what would your life be like without him in it? Dad is now rationalizing and bargaining, one of his highly honed skills...but he is right, yet again. “I wasn’t a rotten husband on all levels he says...I just really loved women, and if they returned that affection I just thought that this must be my lucky day! - I loved talking to and being with women on many levels; I assume you think I loved too many of them far too often? Yes, I say. Well, you got me on that one.....then he adds “but I never two timed Maggie, my last & greatest love.” True enough, I say - you didn’t....but that’s only because by that point in time your were in your 60's - no offence but not a whole lot of other woman really wanted to go to bed with you at this point in your life - you were always only as faithful as your options, I say. He agrees and stresses again that Maggie was different..but he does not apologize for his past dalliances...instead he tells me that my experiences observing his unorthodox behaviours ensured that when I fell in love it would be for real and I would know better and not hurt the one that truly loved me - I gave you first hand experience - no need to thank me, that lesson was courtesy of your dear old Dad - no charge. I nod...my God, he was right again. I have only been in love once, I am still in love once and I don’t ever want a twice. Lesson learned I say....a hard learn, but one that sits at the forefront of my mind every single day. Maybe I should thank him I think....naw...It’ll just give him a big head.
Well...what is your 3rd and last top memory of me?
Easy...I always admired your innate ability to blend in with almost any group of people and find a common ground. I always envied that you could walk into any room and within minutes you would be the leader, no matter what the said groups quest was. You possessed the uncanny ability to sway people in your direction...I think you enjoyed playing that game very much. When you walked into any room it was so noticed and so obvious - FRANK IS IN THE ROOM! You could take it down, bring it up, corrupt it, save it or play with it....depending on your mood on that given day. You seemed to be conducting sociological or psychological studies on these people. Is this how you instinctively knew which people were going to harm you and which were going to help you? “Yes” he says. Do you remember the day that I taught you how to size up a person’s general character based solely on the way they walk into a room and how they prepare their body to sit in a chair? He asks. Oh yeah...I remember that day I say...I still use this lesson to sum people up when I initially meet them. The results are pretty much a science with me now I say. Once again, no charge for that lesson he says. Then I say, how did you come by this knowledge. Years and years of being lied to, ripped off, taken advantage of and being hurt....I wished to save you that agony.
Dad..I say...I have a thousand more things to say....three isn’t enough to define you, don’t leave me yet. “Three is plenty he says...but just for you I will answer to one more he says. As usual I don’t really listen to him....I must say what’s on my mind....
I remember how much I liked to get you things from anywhere just so you could sit and relax, maybe have a nap in the lazy boy...then I could go to bed knowing I made you life a little easier that day, especially when you worked two jobs so we could have nice things - the kinds of things you never had.
I remember how you always told me that I should respect my elders for they have been there and back..and they know how far it is.
I remember that throughout your life you always watched over your siblings and their children, just because you were the elder Harris and this was your inborn right - you told me that this deed was your job, no matter what. Blood is thicker than water, your name is your pride, your word is your bond, and when it’s all over and done this is all you can take with you and all you leave behind. Dad, I say, I always felt you were right on that one - but it still was an unproven theory to me, not a clearly demonstrated fact...Silence on his end...then I pause and think - once again he proved this theory to be one of fact via his own death and the aftermath of it. Invariably, once again, his wisdom was sound and clearly demostrated.
I distinctly recall you telling me that many times the best thing you can do for someone is to do nothing. You must care for you and yours....nobody has the right to rob you of your family just so you can show them where the sunshine lives in their life. When you and yours are safe, happy and secure it is only then that you may distribute anything left over in your soul to the struggling masses. Most all people have to learn through loss...it is the only true form of learning and the only way that anyone becomes self actualized on their terms. You can’t carry them all.
Are you done yet! I have to go soon, he says - folks are waiting on me.
One more I beg.....
I remember that many of your ideas, thoughts, recommendations to myself and others bordered on utter hypocrisy. How could you say these things and only really live half of them? You could talk the talk, but not walk the walk. Well sonny boy, he says....no one is perfect, we all try our hardest, our outcomes are often questionable, but our intentions are pure. All I ever wanted was to have my picture hanging on your wall, to have my presents under the Christmas tree to be the best ones, to have my name recalled with pride, to have my character viewed as one of distinct individuality, to be the one you came to when in strife.
But Dad....you got all that before you died...
Not exactly...this is why it is time for me to go now - my work is done, my dreams achieved, no unfinished business with us is there. Time for you to step into my shoes and carry it on....then pass it on to my grandson. Once I am gone my final goal in life will be achieved.
What’s that? I say as his voice softens in my head.
Look at the people in front of you....they are here to mourn me....but more importantly, they are here to celebrate you.
Daddy...I can’t fill your shoes, I need you to teach me and show me more - you have been there since the day I was born. You were never supposed to die, it’s just not like you to do such a thing.
I hear silence....no more guiding voice is heard. I am alone...totally - standing in the middle of a barren mental wasteland. I sadly look to my right at the collage of photo’s I spent days creating in my desperate attempt to summarize 80 years of love, heartbreak, achievement, triumph, joy, tears, friendships and family - a 4x4 foot piece of wood, a song to play in his honour, a toast of wine to his 80 year life, the uniform that demonstrated his love for our country. I sit up straight, I wipe the tears from my cheeks and I will attempt to become the man he knows I am. He would accept no less and neither will I. What would my son think if I just settled for the mediocre and predictable life. I would hope that he would find me to be a role model of little significance and weak backbone.
The remnants of his life surround me...just enough to allow me to recall his booming military trained voice, ordering me to stand up straight, walk forward with head held high and don’t ever look back in anger....only look back to learn about tomorrow. Yesterday is done and it cannot be re-written.
Are you still there? I scream in my head....
Again, he does not answer....I feel his warm whiskered chin press against my forehead as he kisses me goodbye for the last time...no more words from him. He knows I will never stop asking why, or how, or when or what...I am weeping now.
I read over what I have written and realize that the greatest fear of my youth has now become truth..I am him on almost all levels - the dread of my discovery slowly wanes then turns into a feeling of great pride and insurmountable strength. My family sleeps soundly upstairs..secure in their life and their love, the cupboards are filled with food, we are all healthy and happy and we have dreams and goals that can be achieved. My tears and feelings of loss and self pity turn to tears of laughter when I think of him. He was probably the funniest man I have ever known in my life..now that is all I can think of when I see his face in my photo collage. That is one of the largest honours anyone could bestow him.
Dad always had little phrase when pondering life and death...he would say that everyone wants to live to be at least 80 years of age....until they are 79. Another was If I’d known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself - and lastly (he said this one the day before he died when I asked him if he feared death....his response was thus “death does not scare me at all..this beaten body is just a fleshy prison...it’s judgement scares the living shit out of me though”
Here’s hoping that his judgement day was not too harsh for Dad....if so, I’m really in for it.
He never had a dime to spare, he never rose high in any profession, he never chased the almighty dollar, and he never backpedaled on his views. But man...was he revered...one of the most powerful men I have ever know. And he was powerful due to his overblown self image and what type of man he defined himself as - the man he desired to be, he became - without guidance I might add. I already miss his lectures. He was my nemesis, a giant..but mostly he was my beloved Father. He inspired me and made me strong.
I hope that you found this speech unusual, a little odd and even maybe a little out of line - almost bordering on perceived disrespect - this couldn’t be farther from the truth. I know that Dad would have loved this speech.
To end this rant I wish to share with you how grateful I am to each and everyone here today and especially to several key persons that made this day possible.
This memorial service, whether it worked out as planned or not, would not have been possible without the loyalty, commitment, time, and labour of my cousin Stephen & his wife Josie, my Aunt Peg & her husband Barry - for always being there no matter what happens, my cousin Carla, my Father’s friends Murray and Ron, the “boys” from and the staff of the Port Perry Tim Horton’s (for donating all the coffee and trimmings) & of course, my far too tolerant wife Frances & my son Alex. Generally, I want to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart on this occasion. I wish to convey my deepest thanks to all of those who ventured out to visit Dad while he was hospitalized from April 5 - June 5. These comforting and invigorating hospital visits kept him fresh and alert..fueling his desire to battle against the odds. Mine and my families thanks are especially extended to the many family members and friends that came out to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Barrie during the last five days of his life. We would have lost Dad on June 1 had it not been for these people. All of the heartfelt cards, calls, emails and general concern for myself and my family has been truly astonishing - it has caused me to become a more positive and optimistic person in general to be witness to such affection. Dad was blessed because of all of you. Your visits and the love you all conveyed to him allowed my family...and especially myself to spend the last 5 days of my Father’s life at his side - exactly where I wanted to be, where I had to be...hearing it all, feeling it all and cherishing every second of that time...I just wish I could have those 5 days again and again and again. Never enough time.
He had a truly distinctive life on all levels....he thought it all was wonderful and he wouldn’t have changed a thing. It was a good life....and, if he were witness to his own demise he would have said that it was good death too.
Thank you all ...again.
• Memorial Speech: Eulogy - Written by Frances A. (Cadieux) Harris, 23 Jun 2007, Grandview Farm - King City, Ontario. EULOGY FOR FRANK HARRIS
SATURDAY, JUNE 23, 2007
Frank was born Francis Granger Harris on March 6, 1928 to John Dickinson Harris and Mae Isobel Granger. He was the eldest of 5 children-John Elgin, who passed away in 2002, and Jim who passed away in 1992. Fred is unable to attend today, however we are joined by the baby of the family, Peggy, who was Frank's most dearly beloved sister and more recently, his caregiver. She and her husband Barry, opened their home to care for Frank before he was hospitalized in Barrie, where they then became daily visitors and caregivers.
Frank was born and raised in the East York/Scarborough area. His early years were that of a traditional 1930's depression lifestyle, with family gatherings, and a large extended family. Tragedy struck the Harris family early when father John died in 1939 due to a workplace accident. The family was torn apart by this tragedy and struggled to stay together while being raised by their widowed mother, however this was a difficult time for all the children. Mae re-married, and Frank left to join the Royal Canadian Navy in January 1944. Due to his Mother's failing health Frank was called home & honorably discharged from the navy just days after his 19th birthday. He returned to Toronto several days prior to his Mother's death in April 1947. Frank always saw himself as a father figure to his younger brothers and sister, whom he had always tried to remain connected with and watch over. He was most surely looked up to as a guiding force by all of them.
Frank's first love, Myrt Taylor, was a neighborhood girl Frank had began dating in 1943. They married in 1950. While Frank enlisted in the army in 1950 for 3 years, then again in 1957 for 3 years, he tried to become a family man. Frank & Myrt had a daughter Vanessa Mae in 1953. Vanessa met a wonderful man, Barry Salisbury, and together they had 2 beautiful children - a granddaughter Tammy, and grandson Paul. Frank adored his grandchildren and was a central figure in guiding their upbringing. Tammy has a lovely little girl, Madison, who was Frank's only, and most cherished, great grandchild.
During this time, Frank also attended broadcasting school, and spent a year working at an all news radio station. During his employment as handy man and tour guide at Fort York Frank met his soon to be second wife June Buxton in 1963. Frank and June relocated to the Prince Albert/Port Perry area in 1967, after their son Jim's birth in 1966. Frank was always an inspirational and guiding father to Jim. During Jim's youth, Frank and Jim had a tumultuous relationship at times, as those famous Harris traits occasionally clashed. As Jim matured and began a family of his own-Frank's grandson Alex was born in 1990-there developed much closer relationship, with mutual admiration and respect. Frank and June opened their home for years to many nieces, nephews, grandchildren, friends, and friends of their children, who saw Frank as a respected father figure who offered a safe haven in times of need. Frank holds a special place in the hearts of his nephews Stephen and wife Josie, who became an ever present, loving, and attentive nephew in Frank's later years, and nephew Joe, friend Robert Mazurek, and friend Carol Bacon, whose daughter Karin is Frank's god daughter. Through Frank's lifetime, he enjoyed the ties of a family that was, like many large families, filled with love, support, challenges and rough patches, where he was a central figure to all.
Frank held a variety of jobs, and was one of the first computer programmers in the 1970's when a computer filled an entire room and required punch cards. Throughout his life, Frank held a fascination for technology, which he enjoyed until his last moments, as many of you know by his emails, and the kick he got out of the computerized television system at Barrie hospital. Frank also had political ambitions and ran for town council three times over a thirty year span, though as we know through his many letters to the editor and his own opinions at debates, and his “direct approach” was his worst political enemy.
Frank began working for the LCBO in 1979. In 1985 he met his final love, Margery Bernice McKibbon. They spent 18 years together, enjoying the friendship of many in the Port Perry area, and most especially, the Scugog Point neighbors - many of whom are here today. Frank cherished the McKibbon family, Marge's sons, Gord, Gary and Greg, her brother-in-law Ron and their families, and Marge's sister Lois, and her daughter Ellen. Frank loved to sit by Lake Scugog and feed the chipmunks. With Marge by his side they would go boating, vacationing, play bingo and simply relax and enjoy peaceful moments. Frank always enjoyed his daily trips into Port Perry where he spent hours with the Tim Horton's boys, having wonderfully animated discussions with his many friends.
Frank was often seen as strong willed, opinionated, highly intelligent, articulate, argumentative, and passionate and was frankly, Frank. Frank's demeanor and personality never changed to suit others-he was true to himself, All who knew him, knew he was honest and would call it as he saw it. Frank's loyalty to friends and family was to be admired. To his family he was seen as a patriarch, offering guidance and support, as a friend he was seen as someone who offered camaraderie. Frank's devotion to all those he cared for went above and beyond.
However, when Frank's brother John became ill, his compassionate side emerged. The tough, gruff exterior melted away and the fatherly figure provided a warmth and tenderness that moved all who had the pleasure of watching as Frank gently stroked his baby brother's hair, encouragingly tried to get John to eat, or simply sat by his side and kept him company. Frank was the constant and steady presence during his brother's last moments.
The loss of his brother John devastated the usually strong Frank. His always present rock in this difficult time was Marge, who held him close and loved him so well. She meant the world to Frank, and he to her. Marge had the ability and gift to touch Frank's heart in a way no one else could-it was thanks to Marge that we were all able to enjoy the gentler side of Frank. Shortly after John's death, Marge became ill, and Frank, although saddened by the loss of John, drew on an inner strength that is rare, and rallied to care for Marge. Frank's bedside manner was so lovingly tender and gentle, and he demanded the utmost in medical care for her. Frank ensured that Marge was able to remain in her most treasured home and live her last days in the place she loved. Frank's practical care was only surpassed by his compassion and love for Marge, and losing her changed Frank profoundly. Frank never truly recovered from Marge's passing in July 2003, and although he continued on, it was obvious he was never the same. The pain of this loss remained with Frank through his last moments, as his only tears were shed when her photo was brought to his hospital room by Stephen and Josie. Frank developed an especially close bond with Marge's sons Gord & Greg, and after she passed away, Frank remained connected with the McKibbon family.
Jim tried to be there for Frank during these losses, as Frank had been there for Jim when Jim lost his mother in July 2004.
Frank moved in with Jim, Alex and I in April 2006, and spent the last year sharing our home. Frank spent quiet times on the computer, playing Word search to keep his mind sharp, and bantering with his Tim Horton buddies. Frank also enjoyed visiting with Lois, discovering and rekindling his family ties through Jim's family research. During this time Frank became close to his cousin Carla and through her he became close with family friend Anne. Frank enjoyed becoming closer to his sister Peggy, and her family, and his nephew Stephen and his family. These times meant so much to Frank.
As Frank became ill, it was obvious he was struggling to remain upbeat, though he tried to maintain his usual routine. During his last 8 weeks, Frank was hospitalized in Oshawa, then after release, he went to his sister Peggy's, where he was to recouperate in her caring and competent hands. After several days, he was admitted to the Royal Victoria hospital in Barrie, where he was able to receive truly quality palliative medical care by a top notch professional team of staff. Frank, although sick, was valiant in his efforts to enjoy the company he received and he loved the calls and visits. In fact, these visits revitalized him and allowed him to remain with us an extra 5 days - giving his immediate family more time to say farewell. Frank, stoic and determined, not wishing to linger and suffer , decided to leave us on June 5, 2007, passing away peacefully. Jim, Peggy, Joe, Joe's mother Marg, and Carla were all able to be with Frank during his last moments.
Though we are saddened by the loss of Frank, during his 80 years on this earth he touched so many. Frank's desires for today was to be honored - recanting all of his strengths and flaws. His history, his life events, his character, his friends, his family, -all of this is what he was most proud of and this is all he truly wished to be remembered for. Your memories and stories of his times with you allow him to continue on in our hearts and it is only this that will allow his legacy to live on with his family.
I would like to now share my own memories of Frank. I offered to give this eulogy today for several reasons. Frank gave me the greatest gifts of my life and for that I want to thank you Frank. The gift of my husband Jim, my true love. Not only did Frank give him life, he raised him to be the man he is today. Jim and Frank were so much alike in so many ways, and Frank instilled so many of his own unique characteristics in his son. Watching the 2 of them interact was always highly entertaining, especially at family gatherings, and while enjoying visits at Lake Scugog. Through the gift of Jim, I have the gift of our son Alex, whom Frank was so proud of, and who, with me, referred fondly to Frank as Grumpa Frank. Alex spent one of Frank's last nights at the hospital with his grandfather and this meant so much to Frank. Jim and Frank spent Frank's last 5 days together, and although it breaks my heart to see Jim so sad, I am so happy that Frank and Jim had these moments together-thank you Frank for giving that precious time to Jim. Throughout the 19 years I knew Frank, I was never quite sure how Frank felt about me and if he simply tolerated me as an outlaw. During his last year with us, we spent time together sharing our love, and frustrations of Jim. I think Frank saw clearly how happy I made his son, and how wonderful Alex was, because his last words to me after spending the afternoon together chatting and shaving his face so he was pretty for visitors, was the gift of telling me “I love you”. I thank you for this Frank, and I love you too sweetie.
Francis married Muriel Anne Taylor on 8 Apr 1950 in St. Nicholas Anglican Church, Scarborough, Ontario. The marriage ended in divorce in 1963. (Muriel Anne Taylor was born on 31 Oct 1930 in Toronto, Ontario.)
Francis next married June Margaret Dudley, daughter of Arthur Dudley and Hilda Louise Fulbrook, on 25 Jun 1971 in Kingsway-Lambton United Church, Etobicoke. The marriage ended in separation in Jun 1986. (June Margaret Dudley was born on 20 May 1929 in Maternity Hospital, Causeway Lane, North West Leicester, England, died on 9 Jul 2004 in Lakeridge Health Centre, Oshawa, Ontario and was buried in Portion of Ashes Interred at Pine Hills Cemetery, Toronto, Ontario.) The cause of her death was Bone/Blood Cancer.
Francis had a relationship with Margery Bernice McKibbon in Jul 1986 in Nestleton, Ontario. (Margery Bernice McKibbon was born on 12 Apr 1925 in Hamilton, Ontario and died on 2 Jul 2003 in 19360 Scugog Point Road, Nestleton, Ontario.) The cause of her death was Cancer.