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Michael Bordt ✵ 1954-2021

Name at birth: Michael Bordt
Date of birth: May 30, 1954
Place of birth: Korntal, Germany
Date of death: August 5, 2021
Place of death: Ottawa, Canada
Resting place: Ottawa Muslim Cemetery
Submitted by: Mila Bordt

Dr. Michael/Mick/Micki Bordt peacefully left this earth on the morning of 5th August 2021 at his Ottawa home of 30 years. Born to Susie (Elfriede) Locke and Fritz Bordt in the small town of Korntal, Germany in 1954 and moved to Prescott, Ontario in 1956, continuing to pursue a successful, beautiful and adventurous life. He always had a great passion and curiosity for travel which fit in so well with his work, naturally connecting people around the world with similar passions and sharing the gift of seeing the world with his family. He undoubtedly had a special connection with Indonesia after moving there in 1988 where he would meet his wife, Lis.

Countless number of professional and academic achievements over 67 years of life, including but not limited to: 35 years at Statistics Canada, 3 years at United Nations ESCAP Bangkok, OECD Paris, Canada Fisheries and Oceans and a PhD in Geography from University of Ottawa where he dedicated his expertise and passions for the environment, statistics, ecosystems, economy and of course the ocean to make a difference in this world, inspiring colleagues and friends alike.

He recently took on and had a significant part established a superhero project, The Global Ocean Accounts Partnership which is beginning to transform how countries measure and manage the progress towards sustainable ocean development. This project has been his pride and joy over the past 3 years and we can be confident that his esteemed colleagues will continue this project and carry it out the way Michael dreamed of.

Survived by his loving wife of 31 years, Liswati Seram, and their 3 wonderful children, Mila, Dani and Andi Bordt. Son to Elfriede (Susie) Locke. Younger brother to Roswitha Lipman-Baker and older brother to Martin Bordt, Fritz Bordt and Roswitha Stein. Uncle to Jordan Lipman, Devin Lipman, and all of the loving, extended family in Indonesia and Germany. Michael’s legacy will live on for decades to come in his passions for world citizenship, Ocean preservation, endless intellectualism, tastefully dry and clever humour, his abundance of unconditional support, love and generosity for his family, his warmth, kindness, and his famous height. He’s the gentle genius giant we all needed and deserved. We will forever miss his presence and keep our love for him in our hearts always.

The funeral was held on 7th August and was attended by his family, old friends, and colleagues at the Ottawa Mosque and Ottawa Muslim Cemetery. Special thanks to the Ottawa Muslim Association and the Ottawa Mosque for a beautiful service. Thank you to everyone for the support and love over the past month and to all the esteemed colleagues and organisations who donated the hundreds of trees in our father’s name, our family is forever grateful.


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Helly Saner-Nussbaumer ✵ 1932-2021

1969

2004

   
Geburtsname: Helly Elsbeth Nussbaumer
Geburtstag: 24. Juni 1932
Geburtsort: Riehen, Schweiz
Todestag: 10. Juni 2021
Todesort: Riehen, Schweiz
Ruhestätte: Friedhof am Hörnli, Riehen, Schweiz
Informationen: Philippe Saner

 

 

alles ändet uff i

mit zäh Johr möchtsch gärn elter si
de glaubsch an viel und an d’Magie
am liebschte hesch dr Zirkus Knie

mit zwanzig ghört die ganz Wält di
dr Kopf isch voller Theorie
o gäbs doch s’Glück mit Garantie

bisch drissig isch d’Hochzyt verbi
hesch Kinder ains taufsch Rosmarie
jetz ghörsch du alle nur nit di

wirdsch vierzig stohsch in d’Raihe i
de schaffsch hesch grossi Plän derbi
am Frytig gosch in d’Symphonie

mit funfzig waisch vom Läbe e chli
de hesch viel glehrt und schicksch di dri
im Stille kämpsch um Harmonie

bisch sächzig machsch e Punkt uffs i
de hesch di aigni Philosophie
wie schnäll göhn jetze d’Johr verbi

mit siebzig waisch d’Wält ghört nit di
und ganz en andre fiehrt Regie
de Kinder saisch gäll schrieb de gli

wirdsch achtzig gar darfsch dankbar si
e paar nur ladsch zum Festli i
und was de dänggsch das bhaltsch für di

Helly, ca. 1964


Besuche & Blumen


Andre Saner-Nussbaumer ✵ 1927-2013 (Gatte)

Regina Nussbaumer-Müller ✵ 1903-1989 (Mutter)

Albert Nussbaumer-Müller ✵ 1904-1956 (Vater)


Paul Whisted ✵ 1958-2021

Name at birth: Paul Joseph Whisted
Date of birth:  August 13, 1958
Place of birth: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Date of death: April 26, 2021
Place of death: Plymouth Meeting
Resting place: Lavalette
Submitted by: Erika Whisted

Cerebral, watchful and devoted to his children, Paul Joseph Whisted of Plymouth Meeting, PA, died on April 26, 2021. Husband to Erika Weinmann Whisted, father to Michael, Miles, Quinn and Rhys Whisted and to Dylan and Alex Schickling, and grandfather to Abigail and Miles Schickling. Paul wanted to be remembered for the love of his family and his music. Love you forever, love you with all my heart, love you when we were together, love you when we’re apart.

In lieu of flowers donations can be made in Paul’s memory to Fox Chase Cancer Center.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Miles Paul Whisted ✵ 1997-1997 (Son)

Shelly Stokoe ✵ 1967-2014

Name at birth: Shelly Patricia Stokoe
Date of birth: March 3, 1967
Place of birth: Henderson Hospital, Hamilton
Date of death: November 6, 2014
Place of death: Dunnville War Memorial Hospital
Resting place: Dunnville
Submitted by: Arlene McIlravey

Do not stand by my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in the snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn’s rain
When you awaken in the mornings hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there. I did not die.


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Daniel McIlravey ✵ 1937-1996 (Father)

Seshendra Sharma ❀ Visitors & Flowers

 

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25 January 2021

FLOWERS AND SILENCES

The dim darkness-the diffused light-dimness of one merging into the other-imparting more length to the long trees that are standing like stretched out shadows wearing stars in their hair- silence is imparting more depth to the darkness in this advaita where darkness is merged into silence, my mind wakes up, now not only sound but even a ray of light is a violent disturbance to the profoundness of peace- in such moments deep truths unveil themselves-now I realise it is not sound but in silence melody lives-I am born out of flowers and silences- while passing my hand brushed against a flower, I asked ‘are you bruised? ‘‘Me or you’ smiling, the flower questioned back- the heart of my pen broke and split blood; – I do not know which paper can bear this pen-In the gigantic silences of forests, which touch the blue skies, the carpenter bird pecks at the trunks of great trees which echo, far reaching sounds-what can he do among the tiny crotons?I ate days like fruits-now I eat drops of tears like grapes-frightened by the sun took refuge under shades-sitting on the pavement eating dreams from eyes like ice cream with spoons- measuring my life with dark evenings- I distributed my wealth once with metres, now I scatter with handfuls my future letting it fly in all directions-I washed my heart in tears and dried it over poetry- walked past wearing people on my body like shawls-in the assemblies of flames; in countries abroad I raised my gypsy voice and sang mixing earth and sky-this country is the graveyard of my genius- however fast I walk the distance remains the same. This land is thirsty for my blood, it is snoring in the little shades of pigmy trees-I picked my pen and dipped it in the sun to write a summer song for my nation-

– Seshendra Sharma


25 January 2021

THE BURNING SUN

I am the drop of sweat, I am the sun
Rising from the hills of human sinews,
Hearts are my friends
I live in the city of sufferings
Although in my fist, I hold an ocean of history
I sculptured man silently –
Wings that carried birds
Did not bring them back;
I am drinking thick darkness
In the haunts of those forests
Which cry out in agony for the birds
That did not return;
Clutching at the garment woven of memories
I twine myself to the feet of my country.
Heads that were hanging to the trees
Smile as flowers today in the branches
Hearts that received the bullets
Ring in temples of our land like bells;
Blood of theirs nights squeezed and offered
By how many to bring forth this day;
They are hanging like icicles
On the ridges of our roofs;
Look, it is an iron fist I have;
I shall excavate the flame of light
From the rocks of time –
I will set fire to the sleep of resisting centuries –
To the rivers that run in passion after the sea
I cry halt, command them
To paint the colourless arid lands in green,
Invite back the smile which fled away
In terror from this land,
To the butterfly trudging hungrily for a flower
I shall give a garden –
Come children, eat
Bits of nights dipping them in moonlight,
I shall not allow the sun to cheat this sacred day;
If he wakes not on the horizon of this land
I shall tear my burning heart
And put it in its place
With the scarlet of my living flesh
Illuminate the earth
I am the drop of sweat, I am the sun
Rising from the hills of human sinews –

Seshendra Sharma


Seshendra Sharma ✵ 1927-2007

   
Name at birth: Seshendra Sharma
Date of birth: October 20, 1927
Place of birth: Nagarazupadu Village
Date of death: May 30, 2007
Place of death: Hyderabad, India
Resting place: Hyderabad
Submitted by: Saatyaki S/o Seshendra Sharma

Visionary Poet of the Millennium
An Indian Poet Prophet

Seshendra Sharma was one of the most outstanding minds of modern Asia. He was the foremost of the Telugu poets of his age, who turned poetry to the gigantic strides of human history and embellished literature with the thrills and triumphs of the 20th century. A revolutionary poet who spurned pedestrian and pedantic poetry equally, a brilliant critic and a scholar of Sanskrit, this versatile poet breathed a new vision of modernity into his vernacular. Such minds place Telugu on the world map of intellectualism. Readers conversant with names like Paul Valery, Gauguin, and Dag Hammarskjold will have to add the name of Seshendra Sharma the writer from India to that dynasty of intellectuals.


Rivers and poets
Are veins and arteries
Of a country.
Rivers flow like poems
For animals, for birds
And for human beings-
The dreams that rivers dream
Bear fruit in the fields
The dreams that poets dream
Bear fruit in the people-


The sunshine of my thought fell on the word
And its long shadow fell upon the century
Sun was playing with the early morning flowers
Time was frightened at the sight of the martyr-
– Seshendra Sharma


An era of scholastic excellence and poetic grandeur has come to an end in the passing away of Gunturu Seshendra Sharma.


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