Stephen Erwin Rubin
When a family is torn apart by wickedness and crime, how do you communicate important news? My brother Stephen Erwin Rubin died yesterday. I just found out. My niece, Tammy, sent me an email asking me to phone her mother because she wanted to speak to me and my phone line is always busy because I am on the Internet.
I knew immediately that my brother had died. He had been sick for a long time. It wasn't a surprise. But it hurts. I am grateful that, through this darkness, I have the ability to express my feelings and report this important information.
My little brother, Stephen, was sick since he was a boy. He suffered from Crohn's disease, which in recent years led to lymphoma. He was being treated at the Jewish General Hospital here in Montreal for a long time.
Stephen was always trying to do good. He was highly intelligent, but very sensitive and impatient. As a school teacher, Steve did not fit into the mould. He cared about his students as individual young people. He cared if they came to school hungry. He cared if they were being abused at home. And that caring got him into a lot of trouble with those in the system who told him to stick to the curriculum. He ended up giving up his teaching career.
Like my father, George Rubin and myself, Stephen used to call into the radio talk shows. We were always involved in the interests of the community, of the people. We always wanted to offer advice on how to make things better. Stephen was bothered by the futility of trying to change bad into good, when so many people enjoy being bad or just don't care, or just keep making excuses. It really hurt him that "the system" has no heart. He wore himself out trying so hard to do good.
Stephen's wife, Evelyn, was the one person who could live with my brother. When we would get frustrated with him, Evelyn would support him. She always laughed at his jokes. We are all blessed that she was there for him through all the years.
And now my brother is dead. I am numb. I know how he thought. He would scoff. He would not want anyone wearing black or weeping. He is glad he is dead, I know. But it hurts.
Stephen told Evelyn that he wanted his body to be cremated and he did not want a funeral. And he did not want "one cent" to go to Paperman, the Jewish funeral parlour that buries almost every Jew in Montreal. And here is the reason why.
When our mother died in 2007, Stephen went to Paperman's funeral parlour and asked to see our mother's body.
The family had been torn apart by the crimes of my niece, Dawn McSweeney, in 1996. Everyone but the thief and her entourage were shut out of our family home at 4995 Prince of Wales in NDG. where Dawn McSweeney had robbed me and taken over the home and the lives and all the assets of my aged parents.This crime was committed with the help of a Montreal Police officer. No one was allowed to see our parents after that.
At Paperman's in the summer of 2007, my brother asked to see his mother's body.
Mr. Paperman - I do not know which Mr. Paperman - told Stephen he could not see our mother's body.
Stephen said, "My mother is dead and I haven't seen her in seven years. I want to see my mother."
Mr. Paperman said, "No.". And Stephen asked why.
The answer Mr. Paperman gave my brother is shocking.
Mr. Paperman told Stephen he could not see his mother's body, "Because maybe she hated you."
So the thief, Dawn McSweeney and our beloved baby sister, her mother, Debbie, had fed poison to Paperman and he swallowed it whole.
And so Stephen told Evelyn, "Don't give Paperman one cent."
And now Stephen is gone. How do we tell my baby sister, Debbie Rubin McSweeney, that her brother has died when, since 1996, Debbie has been protecting her daughter, the thief, Dawn McSweeney, and no one in the family has talked to her. We don't even know where she lives.
But we know Debbie was last living with a strange man named Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme who made himself the liquidator of my father's estate by creating a false will in my mother's name when she was 92 years old and handicapped physically and mentally..
So, I will publish this Memorial for my brother, Stephen, who may be laughing at me right now from his place in Heaven.
I write for the world to know my brother Stephen Rubin is gone from this earth and he will no longer have to suffer from his illnesses or the abuses of a very cruel world.
And maybe someone will tell our sister, Debbie McSweeney, that her brother, Stephen has died.
My brother was an intelligent, sensitive, kind hearted man. The world did not appreciate him, and he could not endure the cruelty perpetrated on the innocent by those who hold power over our lives everywhere we turn.
In my heart, Stephen will always be my little brother - whether he likes it or not.
For detailed reports of the crimes of Dawn McSweeney and those she calls her "partners in crime" on her own blog, join my 67,000 plus readers around the world at - http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com.