Alexander “Alex” Gilev

In Memory of My Brother Alex was always a fighter. As a little girl in Australia a group of boys started picking on me as I walked home from school. Another boy walking by said “better leave her alone. That’s Alex’s sister.” They all instantly scattered. When we moved to Canada a neighbourhood teen gang beat up my older brother Ben and threw him in a ditch in the middle of the night on the outskirts of the city. He crawled up the embankment and passed out. By chance, a lone driver saw him and drove him to the hospital. Ben was in a comma for two weeks. Alex hunted down the gang who did this. He took on five of them and won. Nobody ever dared fight Alex. That was before he became a Christian. As a Christian he tempered his inner instincts to fight and learned to walk away. He learned the true battle was not a worldly battle of fists. It was a spiritual battle. So he became a spiritual fighter. He studied God’s Word and learned it in depth. Many who wanted to learn from him or hear him speak were blessed. For those who closed their hearts he didn’t push. He understood the battle is the Lord’s and the Lord will draw home those who are His. Alex was God’s child. He lived that role the best he could to the very end. His life as a Christian was sprinkled with pain and sorrow. He had a heavy cross to bear. Now he is forever in the arms of our Lord and Saviour where all his tears, pain and sorrow are wiped away. I am sad I was not able to be there to say my last farewell. But I cherish the time with him when he lived. It is far better than saying goodbye. Alex knew I loved him. He was my good brother and it was fitting that he died on Good Friday. Ruth

Alex will be missed here, but he is now in a better place. Our love goes out to his family in this difficult time. I will always remember and treasure the times we had together sharing God's word.

For my father I would like to leave a poem to recognizing my most fondest memories of him, the things he taught me, and the things that always tells me I am my father's child. I FISH. I FISH BECAUSE MY FATHER FISHED. I FISH FOR THE STILLNESS OF THE WATER, THE THICK MORNING FOG, THE SOFT SPLASH IN THE DISTANCE AS THE QUARRY LET'S ME KNOW HE'S OUT THERE. I FISH FOR THE CHALLENGE OF OUTSMARTING A WORTHY OPPONENT. I FISH TO LEAVE THE REST OF THE WORLD BEHIND. I FISH TO PIT MYSELF AGAINST NATURE, THE FISH, AND THE ELEMENTS. I FISH FOR THE THRILL OF THE STRIKE, FOR THE TUG ON THE LINE AS THE FISH TAKES MY LURE. I FISH FOR THE SATISFACTION. I FISH BECAUSE I RESPECT THE FISH. I FISH BECAUSE IT IS IN MY DNA.