Eulogy for my grandfather, on the 10th anniversary of his death

September 10th, 2021 is the 10-year anniversary of my grandfather's passing. What follows is the eulogy that I delivered at this funeral service in Grimsby, Ontario several days later.

Remembering David Jack

When I was born, my grandfather was about 65 years old. I cannot say that I really knew him for almost three quarters of his life. Yet, like watching only the last few hands of a long and involved poker match, sometimes it is obvious to tell who the strongest players are. So, in that sense, I did not really "know" my grandfather, so much as I "felt" him. That was the way that I always perceived him - truthfully - and perhaps some of you had the same experience. It wasn't really necessary to know Grandpa - the details always seemed, well, insignificant. It was the sense of the man that caught your attention, the feeling that he evoked in those around him. Feelings of strength, dignity, respect. The feeling that whatever trouble may come, it was no match for him. Everything about Grandpa seemed - even in his last moments - to give those around him comfort, stability, and confidence. Seeing him pass with difficulty was incredibly tough but in a way served, for me at least, as a validation of everything I had believed as a child about my Grandpa. Even at his very weakest he still showed us what real strength looked like. I can't say that I "knew" Grandpa extraordinarily well, but my alternative sort of relationship seems to me to be more fulfilling, and more long-lasting. That he always existed as a sort of hero to me, a larger than life personality, a throwback to a by-gone era, means that he always will - even if his body is not longer here.

"[It] was one long vacation for me, I got to got to Montreal and the Bahamas." Obviously, it was no vacation.

I grew up with very vague ideas about what my Grandpa had done in his life. When it came to his wartime service he was always reluctant to talk about it, brushing it off by describing his service as "one long vacation for me, I got to got to Montreal and the Bahamas." Obviously, it was no vacation. He served with honour and distinction, a receipient of the France, Germany, and Atlantic stars. He saw more friends than anyone should die in that war, and I remember clearly how he carried with him a distain of war and a suspicion of warmongers that only men who have had to endure terrible loss can hold.

However, he was not without a great deal of pride for his service. He seemed to hold his military service so close to his hear that it likely felt inappropriate to discuss history publicly. There were only ever rare times when I saw him discuss it, and even then he never bothered to include himself in the his recollections - probably out of a combination of humility and respect for those who served.

When my brother, Adam, graduated from basic training in the Canadian Armed Forces my grandfather called it one of the proudest days of his life. That Grandpa was honoured at the graduation ceremony made it one of the proudest of Adam's life, as well. My brother likes to tell the story of the reaction to his commanding officers when they found out about Grandpa's service history. The cadets had been polled on whether they had family members who had served so naturally my brother offered up Grandpa's name. The response that he got back surprised even him (we had always harboured suspicions that World War II was a tad more stressful than a vacation for him). The commanders told Adam that he did not quite appreciate the level of sacrifice that his grandfather had made and that they would like to make Grandpa the guest of honour at the graduation ceremony. To be recognized in such a way, after all those years, at a military graduation for his grandson likely validated - in some small way - the extraordinary service that he had given to his country and to the world.

He truly embodied his generations best attitudes about responsibility, duty, and honour.

He had a quiet sense of strength, grace, and subtle humour constantly circling him - even in his more dire moments. He truly embodied his generations best attitudes about responsibility, duty, and honour - one that is fading in our society and that desperately needs to be remembered and embraced again.

The one story that I always tell about my Grandfather was his lesson to me on the path that one takes through life. It was all very simple to him, you see? First, he said, I would start out drinking cheap beer, maybe fortified wine or some such nonsense. Then, as I grew and matured, I might discover wine - white at first but moving into richer and more complex reds as I aged. Later, I might indulge in rye or bourbon, onto cognac and brandy, maybe spend some time with gin. But one day, he used to say, "One day you will reach the pinnacle of your education. You will arrive at the point of true appreciation for the joys of a good drink. Then, David, you will be a whisky drinker." In his last hours, one of the last things that he asked for was a little scotch. Grandpa had reached the pinnacle of his education, and was making sure to give us one last lesson. He was a wonderful teacher.

Finally, I'd like to express some thoughts for Grandpa's most cherished possessions - his children and grandchildren, especially his youngest granddaughters. As you grow older, it is important that you remind yourself to keep feeling his strength. That his lessons for us - of honour, dignity, and response - taught through his life of action and responsibility, find their way into who we become as people and into how we treat those around us.

It is important that we strive to pass those lessons on and that we demonstrate to others the strength that we have had the privilege to know.

It is important that we always remember where we came from, to know that we come from the very strongest stock - the stuff that heroes and legends are made from. Remember that we come from a legacy of duty and sacrifice and that our grandfather was the best sort of teacher for us. He instilled in us, simply by living his life in the manner that we wanted us to live ours, an understanding of what it means to be a good person - to be a good father, to be a good husband, to be a good friend. He never asked us to listen closely or take notes (except when it came to whisky). He just carried himself with the everyday strength of a soldier, knowing that more important than the details of a person's life is the feeling that they impart on those around them. It is important that we strive to pass those lessons on and that we teach others the strength that we have had the privilege to know.

For my part, Grandpa taught me more that I will likely ever really appreciate. On a practical level, he taught me how to play poker, the importance of civic and national pride, the appropriate level of appreciation for a good drink, the value of women (particularly the great ones, who stand by your side for over 65 years), and the joy of watching your children grow.

But more importantly, he taught me so many larger lessons. Like how to be a man, to carry your responsibilities tightly, but not publicly. To hold your friends and family closely and to be a source of strength for those aroun dyou. To rise up when duty calls, but fall back when you recognize it is time for others to shine. He loved his family, cherished his friends, and understood that we are not judged by the noise that we make during our lives, but the quiet impact that we leave after it.

I know that he inspired everyone here. Some inspirations near me are obvious, like my brother Adam (a soldier in the Canadian Armed Forces) or my sister Leah who has devoted her life and career to healing others. Some are less so, but equally impactful. He inspired us all to be strong for those around us, to throw ourselves into situations that others might run from, and to carry the quiet confidence that comes from having an exceptional example nearby.

If there is such a thing as a spirit, then it exists as the impact that one has on the actions, attitudes, and futures of that that that person touched. If there is such a thing as a spirit, then David Jack has an incredibly strong one.

If there is such a thing as a spirit, then it exists as the impact that one has on the actions, attitudes, and futures of that that that person touched. If there is such a thing as a spirit, then David Jack has an incredibly strong one. We will wake up tomorrow to find that David Jack, Grandpa, isn't really gone. That he exists in very much the same way that we always has in us. Over time, we will realize that last Saturday, September 10th, he simply traded the limitations of living in one body, for the possibilities of existing in a great many. I love you Grandpa, and will always hold you deep in my heart so that you continue to protect, guide, and inspire me.