Obituary of Clifford Stewart Bernhardt

Dad dealt with increasing dementia in his last years, but it was a broken heart that eventually took him from us.

 

After losing his beloved wife of nearly 58 years, Bev, in 2022, his enthusiasm for life waned. He stopped eating and grew weak.

 

Dad was devoted to visiting mom’s grave every day until dementia stole his ability to drive, and his independence.

 

As his condition worsened, he regularly asked where mom was or went looking for her. It was on one of those searches that he fell and ended up in hospital.

 

While he enjoyed the care and comfort there, his continued refusal to eat granted him his final wish, to be with his “Bevelyn.” 

 

The many memories of dad (Papa) will be treasured by his daughter Sandy Motkaluk (Richard); son Darren (Jenn Still); grandchildren Steven, Riley, Maryssa and Myranda Motkaluk, Abby and Ben Bernhardt; and many nieces and nephews.

 

Dad was born and raised in Winnipeg and spent his entire life in the Elmwood-East Kildonan area, which he fiercely loved. He relished telling stories about its history and the changes he witnessed, or driving by his childhood homes and playgrounds. 

 

He was the youngest of nine siblings, many of whom also spent their lives in the neighborhood. Dad was the last of them.

 

He was predeceased by his father Phillip in 1957, and mother Maria (nee Walter) in 1977, as well as his seven sisters and one brother.

 

Dad and mom met at Elmwood High School and love quickly blossomed. They built a simple, happy life in a modest home. Dad spent a short time working as a travelling salesman for Arnold Bros. Transport, a family he was very fond of, before shifting to Air Canada Cargo, where he spent 33 years.

 

It was a rewarding job that provided lifelong friendships for both dad and mom. Those friends became their own family, leading to the creation of a special holiday for themselves: Christmas-in-July. It was a tradition they continued for many years.

 

Dad was a cargo agent but liked to joke that he was a pilot: “I pile it here, I pile it there.”

 

Live animals were often among the items shipped as cargo, some of which he rescued, including a duckling that became a family pet named Daffy. Another perk of the job was free passes that gave dad the opportunity to take us to many sunny destinations.

 

He was a proudly frugal man, a master at finding deals. He scoured garage sales and knew where all the bargain shops were located in the city. It truly was an art.

 

That ability, combined with many self-taught skills he acquired to do home repairs, enabled him to provide a great life for his family, including turning a tumble-down house into a cozy cabin in Winnipeg Beach.

 

Dad was also crafty, shaping many found pieces of wood into beautifully-carved animals. He also built birdhouses, which mom painted. They gave many as gifts but also hung several in their yard and delighted seeing them filled by feathered friends. One of the first things dad did when his kids and grandkids visited was drag them to his back window for a bird count.

 

Someone once compared him and mom to chickadees, the flittery birds who mate for life and do everything together. The description fit them perfectly because if you saw one, the other was never far away. Dad embraced that analogy and repeated it frequently.

 

A true performer, dad was the life of a party, dressing up in outlandish outfits, partially popping out his upper dentures and making faces, or commanding the dance floor with mom. Watching them jive or polka was nothing short of spectacular.

 

They also stayed active with one another, working on many political campaigns for the NDP, golfing as much as possible, bowling twice a week, or simply puttering in their small yard — “the park” — as they facetiously called it.

 

Dad could be sarcastic and opinionated with an irreverently-gruff exterior that people found funny — or pretended to. He related to TV sitcom character Archie Bunker and comic-strip character Crankshaft, about a curmudgeonly old man.

 

But his bark was worse than his bite. He was also gregarious and goofy and sentimental, and always ready to lend a helping hand, or at least supervise with a beer in his.

 

An old school kind of guy, dad wasn’t keen on technology and disliked cellphones. His preferred communication was face-to-face. He welcomed spontaneous visits from friends and family or “popping in” to visit someone himself.

 

He liked tinkering in his basement workshop with a transistor radio playing Jets or Bombers games and a beer close by. Dad was an enthusiastic papa, who enjoyed babysitting his grandkids, attending their many activities or teaching them how to use tools.  

 

In addition to beer, he loved a challenging game of crokinole, cribbage, or cards, which was stressful if you didn’t keep up with his pace. No one could count quicker, especially at crib.

 

His brusque humour was intact to the end and he used it to get laughs from his home care aides and then hospital nurses. He would have benefitted from more social interaction after mom passed but dad refused to leave the home he shared with mom for 52 years.

 

While it’s incredibly difficult to sum 83 years of life, this small snapshot of the footprint left behind by dad shows a life well-lived and surrounded by love.  We will be forever grateful that his memory held on long enough to always recognize his loved ones and that he was able to vocalize that. We take comfort knowing he is reunited with his Bevelyn, dancing once again and relaxing in their recliners. Rest In peace, dad. 

 

A private family interment, with beer, will happen at a later date. His remains will be reunited with mom’s in the niche they share at Elmwood Cemetery. The one with the inscription “Together Forever.”