Mr. Peter George King

July 27, 1940-October 11, 2020

Our beloved Peter King touched many lives and hearts and will be greatly missed by his family, friends, colleagues and neighbours. Having immigrated from England in 1973, Peter spent most of his life in Canada. In his extensive banking career, he provided a high level of service to clients with utmost care and professionalism. As a loving and devoted husband, father and grandfather, he brought great joy and strength to his family. He loved life and lived simply and fully. He was pragmatic, erudite, eloquent, generous, and had a great sense of humour.

“Life is precious however hard it may seem,” Peter shared in a magazine interview several years ago. “People matter, family most of all. I believe in telling people how you feel – that you love them, because you don’t know if you’ll be able to tell them later. Compliment people as readily as you might criticize them.” He felt the best way to make a difference in the world is to “be tolerant and respectful of others and their points of view”. Peter made a lasting difference in many lives and made the world a better place. We are grateful to Dr. Lebrun, all the healthcare practitioners and everyone who has made a difference in Peter’s life. A service was not held to honour Peter’s wish.

May the poem that follows, written by Peter King, be a reminder of the sacredness of life and our collective values – harmony, home, health and happiness.

The British Soldier

By Peter King

North Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

At seventeen I took the shilling, chose to live a soldier's life

To proudly march against the foe, stepping out to drum and fife

I gave no thought to what may happen, surely I'd survive the strife

and come back proudly with my medals, to my home and to a wife

The first time I returned to England, I took you as my loving bride

Though soon to part I felt your presence, always with me at my side

Through foreign lands I marched and battled, losing comrades as they died

But all the time I kept your memory, that is why I still survived

A soldier's life is hard and cruel, spent far from home in foreign lands

His life depends on fate and fortune, always held in others' hands

For King and country I have fought, with waving flags that marked my stands

But I'll no longer march behind those flags or hear those stirring bands

The battle it is nearly won, and shall be when this day is through

I hear it in the silent cheer of fallen friends, their lips now blue

I see it in the desperate eyes of those who fight, a dwindling few

I feel it in my dying bones and know that I will never see you

As my life's blood ebbs away, slowly soaking in the sand

I know that I will lie forever in this dusty foreign land

Promise you will not forget me, though you take another's hand

And never let my unseen son choose to take a soldier's stand