The biggest lie my Uncle Daniel ever told was to say that he hated children.
We all heard him say it a million times and never once believed it. Let me tell you a little bit about how my uncle hated kids:
When I was young, we bickered constantly and he would always bet me two dollars that I was wrong. No matter the subject - two dollars. I didn’t have a job or money, being a child, so he fronted me the toonie every time.
In between the constant fighting and betting, Uncle Daniel taught me about the Beatles, Queen, and Stephen King. He would stand in front of his library and tell me I could take whatever I wanted. He never asked for it back and so I have his dog-eared, torn up copy of The Shining on my shelf to this day.
A few years later we began watching hockey together. He’d make a bucket of popcorn so disgustingly drenched in butter that I could barely stand to be in the same room with it and we would place our two dollars bets and settle in to watch the Leafs.
A few years after THAT, I learned to drive. I got my G1 and technically wasn’t supposed to be driving without a properly licensed adult in the car. Uncle Daniel went on vacation with the Foleys that year, and before he left he handed over his car keys, told me the tank was full and that I should enjoy my week.
Just three weeks ago when we were in Newmarket for his birthday, Daniel sat and posed with Jack and Summer for pictures. Jack stayed in his lap to eat his cake afterwards and honestly, that was the happiest I’d seen him look in a long time.
At one point he looked up at me with a shit-eating grin on his face, put his arm around Jack and asked,
“…He knows I hate kids, right?”
He didn’t, of course. It wasn’t true when I was Jack’s age and it wasn’t true three weeks ago. He loved kids, and what’s more than that, he genuinely LIKED us. Even when we were at our most unlikable, he thought it was worth his time to front us a toonie to bet on the hockey game and ask how our lives were going.
That takes some loyalty indeed, and I will treasure that friendship for the rest of my life.
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The above is a eulogy I wrote for my uncle’s funeral a week and a half ago. He lived with my grandparents and I for almost my whole life and I learned a lot about the nature of forgiveness from him.
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