The Death of Mrs. Bramall, 1922-2018

2 February 2018

I have been dreading the death of Mrs. Bramall for years.  My fear was based on concerns architectural and artistic, but mostly small town and cultural.  Though I didn't know her well, we've both been part of Oakville for over 50 years.

I knew all of her children, but only briefly as they were of the neighbourhood but at different schools.  I knew her husband, Gurth, as I worked with him on a couple Town committees focused on maintaining Oakville's culture at a time when such a hope was almost laughable.  Maybe it's always been laughable, I'm no longer sure.  He was a practical man with an interest in many things and, I believe, a kind heart.  But she was more.

Although her obituary marks her as a daughter of Canada, there was something essentially British about her.  Her obvious dislike of cant and her seeming affection for solitude both spoke to an independent mind.  I have no experience of her professional work, but she was reported to have been highly skilled in the restoration of paintings and, I'd heard, over the years, that she worked on some important canvases at both the AGO and the National Gallery.   Even old masters.

So the Bramalls shared a love of the conservation of important artifacts, him naval and architectural, her more painterly and botanic.  This was obvious to anyone who looked with any care at their accretive house at the northeast corner of George's Square.  While it appeared flawlessly maintained, that maintenance never seemed ostentatious so much as based in responsible stewardship.  And this is probably the heart of why I was afraid of her death.

Gurth died some time ago and yet Mrs. Bramall just kept on ticking.  Her death has probably been equated with the death of the last unostentatious owner of a significant property in Oakville.