R. DORENE SELTZER

Monique and I are heartbroken to share that my mother, Mrs. R. Dorene Seltzer, passed away on Saturday, November 29, 2025, at the age of 97. My mother lived an extraordinary life - one shaped by improbable turns, quiet resilience, and an unshakeable curiosity about the world. She grew up in Belfast, Northern Ireland, during a time of immense turbulence. She excelled at everything academic. One of the earliest symbols of that excellence was a framed certificate from the Lord Mayor of Belfast for an essay she wrote at ten years old for Belfast's 1938 Jubilee. She earned a full scholarship to Queen's University Belfast. Tragically, her father - who struggled to show any kindness whatsoever - never told her. She discovered the untouched acceptance letter only after his death in the 1950s. That revelation shaped her deeply. During the Belfast Blitz, she was evacuated to the countryside, a time she always recalled with gratitude. It was there that she met her first dog, Micky, who would run down a long country road every afternoon to greet her after school. That simple devotion ignited her lifelong love of dogs - one of the most joyful and defining threads of her life. After the war, she left Northern Ireland with her half-brother, Ralph Allely, and arrived in Canada at the age of 20 with nothing but determination. In Toronto, she met a young British serviceman, my father, John Seltzer, who fell in love with her instantly. They built a beautiful life together. They had two sons, Mark and me, and my father - who also knew what it meant to grow up in a world shadowed by religious intolerance - understood her with a depth that was rare. He encouraged her to complete the education she had been denied, and with that she earned her master's degree in French literature from the University of Toronto at age 54. She and my father travelled the world. One of her happiest memories was standing in Nairobi, listening to my father speak fluent Swahili - something he had picked up while stationed in East Africa. From Argentina to the Arctic, Nepal to Bermuda, their passports became a chronicle of a shared sense of adventure. My father came from a long line of musicians, and many of their closest friends were classical performers. One of them, the celebrated violinist Lorand Fenyves, was not only part of their circle but became my first music teacher. Through people like him, my mother deepened her love of music, history, and ideas. When my father died of cancer in 1993, it shook her foundation. And five years later, when my brother, Mark, and his wife, Marilyn, died in northern Canada, the ground shifted again. It is impossible to overstate what that loss did to her. She kept going - because she was who she was - but her trust in fate never truly returned. And yet something else happened too. After Mark's death, she opened herself, in her own quiet way, to more connection and more spontaneity. She made space for New Year's Eve parties, dinner gatherings, and a great deal of socializing - much of it, if I'm honest, propelled by me. But she leaned into it with grace. Her greatest joy in these later years was our family home in Muskoka at Bannockburn. She adored sitting on the dock, tending bonfires, and spending time with the Burandt family, who became an essential part of her extended circle. She loved the boat rides, the gentle rituals of cottage life, and the constant flow of friends dropping by - especially those who arrived with dogs in tow. But no one shaped her final chapters more than my wife, Monique. The love, care, and tenderness Monique gave her filled the enormous space left by the loss of Mark and Marilyn. Monique helped make our family whole again, and my mother felt that deeply. Her longtime caregiver and friend, Rose Flores, gave her whole heart to my mother and, in doing so, became part of our family. And Phil King and Rosemary Waterston - dear friends of my late brother and Marilyn - remained steadfast and thoughtful companions to my mother for the 25 years following their loss. My mother's friendship with author, Kamal Al-Solaylee, was one of the great joys of her later life. So too were the years spent with our friends, Steve and Becky Isenberg, and their children, Ben, Jonny, Lauren, and Dan. There were so many shared Jewish holidays, so many Muskoka dinners, and so many affectionate, chaotic moments filled with laughter, kids, and inevitably dogs. Duncan Jackman, my infinitely great friend, was always so kind and supportive. It was the kind of warm chaos every family hopes for. We will miss her terribly. A remarkable candle has gone out, but the light she left behind will bend the path ahead of us. An intimate reception to honour her will be held on Wednesday, December 10th, from 3:30–5:00 p.m. at 165 University Avenue (southeast corner of University and Adelaide), 10th Floor, in the reception room of EL Financial.