It is with sadness that the family of the late Edwin "Job" Burton announces is passing at the Green Bay Heath Centre, Springdale, NL, aged 82 years.

Job leaves to mourn with loving memories, his son, Todd; daughters, Sherry, & Jodi (Pete) Winsor; grandchildren, Mindy, Megan, Marshall, Deshaun, Randi, Mason, Bailey, Meyha, Karson, & Clarke; great-grandchildren, Aveah, Brodie, Jake, Khloe, Janelle, & Merrick; siblings, Audrey Halfyard, Ross (Jeanette), Bond (Rose), Harold (Thelma), Claude (Margaret); as well as nieces, nephews, relatives and friends.

Job is predeceased by his wife, Florence (Flossie); parents, Moody & Blanch Burton; sister, Flossie.

After completing high school, he went to work at the Tilt Cove Mine a few years and met the love of his life, Florence (Flossie), with whom he shared 57 wonderful years of marriage.

In 1964, at the age of 20, he enlisted in the Canadian Army as a Military Police/Service Policeman with Group 1 & 2. He served proudly until October 20, 1967, receiving an honourable discharge.

Following his military service, he returned to Baie Verte and worked at the Advocate and Rambler Mines while raising his family. In 1972, he moved to Robert's Arm, where he began a long and dedicated career with the Department of Highways, serving as a Highway Supervisor and Clerk until his retirement in 2005.

He was a man of many talents, including writing, painting, and drawing, but it was his exceptional skill in wood carving that truly stood out. His craftsmanship earned him high honours and recognition.

He had a deep love for the outdoors, whether it was moose hunting in the fall, rabbit snaring, ice fishing, or enjoying a "boil-up" on the beach after a day of cod fishing.

He also had a strong passion for geology and prospecting, He returned to school to get his license in his 50's. He spent countless hours searching for unique and beautiful rocks that caught his eye.

He had a special place in his heart for pets and cherished many over the years, including Nuggett, Snowball, Fluff, Cuddles, Zoey, and Murphy.

He enjoyed curling and hockey and made sure never to miss a game—often taking a nap beforehand if a late match was coming on.

In keeping with is wishes, cremation has taken place.

His Memorial/Celebration of Life funeral will be at a later date.

Below is a tribute by Doug Winsor:

Here's what I would have to say about your father.

I used to tell him that I wish that I had really gotten to know him twenty years earlier or that he was now 20 years younger.

Strangely, we shared a lot of the same views and opinions. The times that we didn't necessarily, he would always say, "I hope you're not offended by what I say."  Of course, I wasn't. We chatted, we listened, we entertained and respected each other's opinion even if we didn't agree.

From a prospecting perspective, he usually talked way over my head because he was so much more informed. I always told him that only his investigative mind and sense of adventure made him a prospector, while his knowledge made him more of a geologist.

It was strange how we actually connected.

I was inexplicably challenged to do a prospecting course in March of 2025 while watching Finley play hockey at the stadium in Corner Brook. I have no idea why or where the thought came from.

In hindsight, I think it may have been fate bringing me into your father's life to rekindle his prospecting love in his latter days. While your father coming into mine was to birth a love that I wasn't aware of. Regardless of how or why it happened, it sure was a complimentary relationship.

I would head out somewhere for the day with his instruction. Sure enough, at some point, he would call me in the woods to see how I was making out. Sometimes, he would call, and I'd be out of cell coverage. By the time I got back in, I'd have two or three missed calls and messages. Now, he was starting to worry.

As soon as I could, I'd call him back, but he always wanted an in-person report and especially some rocks of interest.

I would watch him analyze my rock samples through the lens, take a break as if piecing something together in him mind, and then dive back in again. Sometimes, he would see something and look at me with a pleased grim and say, "oh, oh, oh". That was his response when he liked what he saw, and it pleased me that I had found it for him.

Your father's rekindled prospecting spirit and the joy it gave him was the greatest reward to me. A big chunk of gold would have been nice, but his enthusiasm and pleasure were beyond compare.

He would recite a poem about prospecting called The Spell of the Yukon. The first verse was;

I wanted the gold, and I sought it;

I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.

Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it;

I hurled my youth into a grave.

I wanted the gold, and I got it—

Came out with a fortune last fall,—

Yet somehow life's not what I thought it,

And somehow, the gold isn't all.

He would recite this and end by slowly saying, "And somehow the gold isn't all."

I believe that was his advice to me to find pleasure and reward in the process rather than anything tangible.

I have inherited his prospecting spirit, and it gives me the greatest pleasure. I will always remember him with fondness, hoping that my last days are full of the same enthusiasm and excitement that he possessed. I will forever cherish the short time that we were friends and wish that we only had more..

Funeral arrangements have been entrusted to Green Bay Funeral Home, 145 Cpl. S Bouzane Blvd., Springdale, NL.