Wilfred Charles Sankey

Wilfred Charles Sankey was born on September 24,1949 in North Battleford, Saskatchewan to Carl and Helen Sankey. In his youth Wilf was active in sports playing baseball, hockey and cycling. His devotion to family formed during that time growing up with his brothers Ernie (deceased), Johnny (deceased) and Mark; along with sisters Irene (deceased), Margaret, Wilda and Pauline.

Wilf leaves behind two children, Michael Robert Sankey of Burnaby, Jennifer Lynn Marshall of Kamloops and his devoted and loving wife of 43 years, Judy Sankey.

Wilf’s legacy includes six grandchildren, brothers Ronan and Kieran Sankey and siblings Memphis, Jaxon, Deacon and Zaria Marshall. Wilf’s love and admiration for his grandkids was boundless, giving his time and energy and sharing in their growth and activities was a source of great pride for him.

Wilf enjoyed golf, hockey and vintage cars. He wasn't shy about sharing his opinion on what the Canucks needed to do to improve. Wilf had a passion for woodworking. He loved building and and renovating his family homes over his lifetime, including running a business making shutters for Eagleside Construction. Spending time in his workshop and finishing a day covered in sawdust was dear to Wilf’s heart. It helped define his love of sharing his skills and abilities and his devotion to his friends and family.

Wilf spent many years working in the steel industry, both in the yard and at the sales desk. Many friendships were formed wearing steel toed boots and coveralls and later wearing a suit and tie.

We will miss you terribly Wilf, but have you in our hearts.

A Celebration of Life will take place in September.

THE ROSE

Some say, "Love, it is a river

That drowns the tender reed"

Some say, "Love, it is a razor

That leaves your soul to bleed"

Some say, "Love, it is a a hunger

An endless aching need"

I say, "Love, it is a flower

And you it's only seed"

It's the heart that fears breaking

That never learns to dance

It's the dream, afraid of waking

That never takes the chance

It's the one, who won't be taken

Who can not seem to give

And the soul afraid of dying

That never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely

And the road has been too long

And you think that love is only

For the lucky and the strong

Just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snows

Life's the seed, that with the sun's love

In the spring becomes the rose