Marian Rose Theaker

It was on one of British Columbia's hottest days on record, the air beyond the whir of fans like a furnace, that we discovered we had lost our mother/mater/matriarch, Marian Rose Theaker. (Incidentally, she hated "Rose", and would begrudgingly write out the ‘R' of her signature with something like patient forbearance.) Mom was 89, and had survived her husband of 62 years and our father, Ken, by 271 days. They were the most difficult days for her, and she privately hoped the reunion would be swifter, even though - to her children - the end came with wrenching and brutal suddenness.
She was born in the Peggy's Cove district of Halifax, Nova Scotia in 1932 to Alexander and Agnes Gabinet. He was a career soldier who had once aspired to be a doctor, and she was a homemaker who would eventually give birth to and raise six children, five daughters and a son, also named Alexander. Life in those early years must have been trying, with the Depression going on. Marian recalled her mother Agnes not infrequently inviting itinerant travelers at the door in search of a meal to the family dinner table. But, by wartime, the family emphasis changed, and Alexander Sr., now a Warrant Officer First Class, traveled to England to join the war effort. He obtained a Captaincy during this time and went on to fight on all major fronts: France, Italy, Africa and Japan. This left Agnes struggling to keep a home and raise her growing brood in Canada, a responsibility assisted by her eldest child, Marian. Oftentimes a surrogate parent - cooking, cleaning, and corralling her younger siblings - this was a role that clung to her for the rest of her life. The sisters sometimes resented this parent-by-proxy in their midst, and I think, in later years, were quick to accuse Marian, known as "Mame" to her siblings, of still wielding a symbolic authority with them. Captain ‘Pop' Gabinet would go on to witness many of the Nazi atrocities in Belgium firsthand, and, with the fighting ‘Princess Pats' liberate an untold number of Japanese POWs. This tour extended into the Korean conflict, and, meanwhile, his young family grew up largely in his absence. ‘Dad's Harem' Marian monikered the lively, alluring coterie of sisters who sang, excelled in sports, wore stylish clothes, and attracted legions of eligible young men. ("Pre-Kardashians" as daughter Deb refers to them.) The family had by now relocated to Toronto. Mom recalled an exciting summer working as a maid at Meredith Lodge near Muskoka Lake in the summer of 1949. Then in 1950 she started her training as a nurse in Guelph, Ontario. Perhaps having inherited a little of her dad's early passion for medicine, Marian really found her milieu here. She tried Pediatrics for a bit before switching to O.R. (Operating Room) or trauma nursing, where she excelled. By the time her three-year training had ended in 1953, she had established herself as a highly-skilled O.R. nurse. And she followed her training with a two-year stint in the O.R. of St. Joseph's Hospital in Toronto. Looking back, Mom really seems like a prototype in that era: the sort of fearless, liberated species of women we would not see for at least another dozen years. Driven and shrewdly intelligent, she next won the position of O.R. Supervisor at the Montreal Jewish General Hospital in 1955. And, here, the girl from Peggy's Cove scrubbed in for the best and brightest surgeons of the day. These included the eminent heart surgeon, Dr. Arthur Vineberg. She marveled at being by his side as he performed open heart surgery, and occasionally even holding a beating human heart in her hands. She was a personal witness to many of Vineberg's innovations in the field of cardiology. To say she was proud of her career would be a profound understatement. She had followed her family to Montreal, where her father was by now a Regimental Sergeant-Major at the Canadian Officers' Training Corps at McGill University in Montreal. It was here, at the officers' mess, that Marian and her sister Frances arrived one night in 1957 on a doomed double-date with a boorish pair of soldiers. The soldiers quickly faded into the woodwork when Marian laid eyes on a dashing young lieutenant from Saskatchewan: Ken Theaker. (In fact, Ken was the Duty Officer on the base that night and had to return one of these would-be dates - now sodden drunk - back to his bunk before reappearing at the mess, himself, for the promise of romance.) The blue-eyed, handsome, young officer and the attractive nurse could barely keep their eyes off each other. With a little helpful intervention from Frances, Ken and Marian were soon keeping company, and infatuation became deep, true love. Ken's training finished, he returned to his Saskatchewan farm, but a series of love letters fueled Marian's decision to relocate to the prairies in 1958 and become his wife. They almost missed each other (opposite ends of the platform!) at a dusty train depot near Prelate, Saskatchewan...but were quickly reunited. Love continued to bloom, and they were married shortly after. They set up their new life together in Moose Jaw, where Dad taught school and Mom assumed her new O.R. position at the Providence Hospital there. Two daughters followed - Shelly, then Debbie - and Ken transitioned into a career as a funeral director by apprenticing at Warren's Funeral Home in Swift Current. Always in demand for her specialized nursing, Marian began work at Swift Current Union Hospital. It was an exciting, heady time for the young family...and Ken struck out on his own as the owner/operator of a funeral home in Esterhazy, Saskatchewan in 1966. You can feel this sense of a new pioneering excitement as you look at the pictures, diary entries and newspaper clippings of their time there.
Ken took his popularity as a businessman and parlayed it to a successful run at civic politics, winning election as Mayor of the town. Always by his side, Marian now started juggling child-rearing with nursing (at Esterhazy's St. Anthony's Hospital) as well as all the social expectations of her position as Mayor's wife, often overseeing - with perfection - amazing dinner spreads for visiting dignitaries, members of the Saskatchewan Funeral Association, and Knights of Columbus associates of Dad's. She created so many special and memorable occasions we recall fondly.
Marian was a real "hostess with the mostess," and loved nothing more than proudly laying out a sumptuous table for her siblings and family for the holidays. Every dish was enticing...with baked goodies which few of us - especially her kids! - could resist. Her Nanaimo bars and butter tarts were legendary in taste, aroma and presentation - and expected/requested by us every year. Mom was ever creative, with a keen eye for design. She knitted personalized wool sweaters, and hooked rugs...of any visual subject which caught her fancy. She stripped and varnished woodwork, re-wallpapered, painted and repurposed whatever her latest find might be. Once, while in the middle of varnishing an archway into the dining room, her daughter Deb accidentally knocked over the entire can onto a newly carpeted floor. That became a running joke within the family. Whenever it looked like one of the kids might be in trouble for something, Ken would tap dance on the crusty rug, and the family would dissolve into gales of laughter and the offense would be forgotten. Still musical (her piano renditions had a light and ebullient touch), she continued to sing and play. Memorably, any gathering of her sisters and mother would mean a joyful singalong. You never knew when the songs of the Beatles or Burt Bacharach or Bob Dylan would come unfurling from the piano, arresting our attention, and luring us to stand behind the upright as a spellbound captive audience while she sight-read all the popular standards. She encouraged us to act or sing or to recite for our own enjoyment, and made sure to drive the extra miles to whatever regional competition was taking place. Near the end of our time in Esterhazy, she had transitioned from nursing to almost full-time funeral work, assisting Dad in his daily operations (especially clerical), and so it was...until health problems for him spelled a certain end to this idyllic tenure. She and Ken relocated to Victoria, British Columbia in the mid-80's where a now-recovered Ken returned to funeral work, as an employee, until his retirement around 2000. And, in retirement, life took on a mild and easygoing cast. She and Ken would take car trips up the Island, walk along their local Gorge waterway, visit family (many of the Gabinets were now out here too) and tend to their gardening. It was a good long block of time together, and they were thankful for their eventful shared life.
Every day, Dad would lie next to her, recalling people and events of the colourful past. Health issues would come and they were dealt with, but Ken and Marian seldom spent a night apart. Until he suddenly became sick in 2020, mostly from age-related illness, and passed in October of that year. The following nine months were hard. Marian survived her brother Alex, who passed in late 2020, and sister Catherine in February of 2021. These were her last siblings. And the loss of Ken continued to be a painful ache. "Why am I still here," she sometimes lamented, "at 89?" It must have been a relief for her, then, when this question was finally settled sometime in the morning of June 29th, even though her three children are now heartbroken at the unexpected loss. We love you forever, Mom, and are so grateful for your life. And we're glad that you are at last reunited with Dad.