Lacombe Glen Nevis: Décès de Léon Lacombe, fils de Norman Lacombe

Wednesday, July 24, 2019

Décès de Léon Lacombe, fils de Norman Lacombe

Léon (20 juillet 1930 +30 juin 2019)
et Lorena (16 juillet 1929 +23 mars 2017)
Mes parents!
Mon père, musicien et électronicien
Ayant suivi ses cours radio et télé à Massena, New York, et Teccart à Montréal s'installe à Ste Agathe pour implanter une compagnie de réparation de télé et radio
( et musique, voir photo mont tremblant lodge (57-58).

... Pour pouvoir suivre ma mère qui était au sanatorium
Ste Agathe pour la tuberculose (1955-56)
Ma mère à commencé à peindre a cette époque
et n'a jamais cessé. Elle était toujours occupée à faire
quelque-chose....
Des centaines de toiles, des courtes-pointes,
Des manteaux de fourrure à une époque,
C'est fou tout ce qu'elle a accompli
Tout ce qu'elle pouvait toucher en artisanat,
Elle le faisait et amenait des biscuits lors d'expositions,
Une vie passionnée par l'émerveillement
Je suis content et surtout fier de ce qu'ils m'ont légué
Merci mes parents Jean Lacombe

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Reason for this blog

This blog is not only a genealogy blog. This is also a shrine.

This is a celebration concerning the numerous success and the great forces and knowledge of the Lacombe : uncle René was a teacher and a business man. Grandmother Lacombe has been a teacher and was a saint mother : a role model. Many Lacombe like Charlemagne and Émile built their Life in USA in prosperity. Rolland became a Jésuite and a specialist of antiques. Sarah gave 2 teachers to our country. Marie was a good mother and a specialist of antiques. Rollande was a communicator, a journalist, a mother, very active in politics. Angéline was a saint mother and gave this nation a missionnary. Norman and Albert were amongst the best fiddlers of the region and gave us this love for music.

This is also a personal attempt to subconsciously get rid of the pain of Aunt Rollande crying in front of me, although she was also a ray of sunlight and a ball of energy, the unresolved grief of Grand Mother Lacombe waiting for her husband during the long winters alone while he was trapping in the woods, with 10 kids. Her fear when Rolland felt in the family well and when good Albert was sick with spanish flu or when Angeline had tuberculosis. Her grief facing the death of her daughter Ubaldine and the guilt because Norman and Real were drinking and that her grandson Maurice, the handsome son of Norman (which was the most intelligent and sensitive of our clan: a genius, creator, inventor) was destroyed by alcohol to the point where he was hit on the road staggering drunk and that he died. Behind our sorrows of descendants of Lacombe, two tons of bricks of ancestral sufferings lies there that have been transmitted through our parents, without being aware themselves. All these stories of werewolves, bear rising from the forest to attack horses, the conscience of the presence of the dead who come to ask for prayers were all personifications of the mourning, the old angst who were taught and transmitted in a non-conscious form from the fantastic characters of the legends they told us. They have imperceptibly passed on to their little people and without knowing it, the angst of five generations, the attitudes toward life, concerns and often imperceptible gestures ranging from the blink of an eye, a look, a harmless word escaping threw a sigh.

This blog remembers the love and the devotion, the faith, and the solitude and the pain which is part of any family history.

I am mentionning the pain in the description but I won't talk about it in the blog. It was just good to mention it (not to forget that pain and sorrow are also part of our life). This blog is about our forces and our rays of sunlight.