It is with great sadness, that I tell you my (step) Dad, Chuck died peacefully in his sleep on May 2nd. Today would’ve been his 84th birthday. He lost a short battle with cancer and is with Mom and David now.
Dad was a good man and he lived a good life. He knew how to have fun, worked hard, was always on adventures and he lived life. He was a loving dad and a devoted papa. He was the kind of friend you could always count on to help out. He was a giver and loved to shop and he was creative and always making things and he would give stuff to everyone (and I mean everyone: the kids, us, you, bob down the street, mary over there, the dog that comes to visit, the dog that comes to visit the old lady 2 streets over, the squirrels, the birds (but not seagulls), the grandson of his neighbor who he’s never met but heard about and anyone else I might’ve left out, truly he was a generous man who enjoyed the act of giving). But mostly he gave of his time and himself.
His passions were fishing, golfing, and old time metis fiddling. He told me a few months ago that if he could do his life over again, he’d become a fiddler. He would make his dancing men and then go to the swap and shop and fiddle festivals and dance them to the fiddle music and it got so he couldn’t make enough to keep up with the demand. That tickled him pink. If you knew dad, you know that when he was happy or tickled about something, his light blue eyes would twinkle. Mom used to say she loved that twinkle and I did too, it got so as I’d watch for it and I’d light up myself when I’d see it again.
He and mom were together for 33 years. I was 5 when we met in the ‘70’s. He took on the responsibility of raising 4 children not of his blood, and as far as I know, never batted an eye. He loved me and my children with all the love in his heart. He NEVER in my entire life said stepdaughter, and I only made the clarification at the top of this page for the reader’s distinction. He, from the age of 5 called me his daughter and always never-endingly, said it with pride.
For 26 years he has been the most devoted, loving and kind papa, who was always, unfailingly there for the kids. If Dad loved you, he just loved you, there were never any conditions, it just was.
When he was 82 years old he drove himself in his scooter to Scott’s downtown tattoo shop and in a shop full of pierced and tattooed personages, Scott gave Dad his very first tattoo ever. That was Dad in a nutshell. He loved Scott and so he got a tattoo by Scott. He spent his life always willing to have fun and take chances and try new things.
In so many of the condolences I’ve received, I hear over and over again what a nice man he was. And that’s because he was. He was a nice man. A giving man, a loving man, a man who knew how to enjoy life and make the most of it. I love him very much and am blessed for having him as a father all these years. "