simra.net Doing stuff since 1973

My father passed away on Feb 26 after a short battle with cancer. Today would have been his 58th birthday. Here's the eulogy I gave at the funeral. I miss him a lot.

Before I begin I want to thank you all for your overwhelming support these past few weeks. I think dad would be amazed to see so many people here to celebrate his life and I know he'd be so grateful for the support you`ve given mom, Gord and I this week. Dad was part of a truly vibrant, loving community.

I'd like to start with a short summary of dad's life.

On March 19, 1949, David Gordon Sim was born to Margaret and Donald in the Beaches neighbourhood of Toronto. He was the second of three boys, the older Robert, and the younger Jeffrey. Early in his life the family moved to Don Mills and he spent a happy childhood roaming the ravines of the Don Valley or cottaging in the Muskokas. Granny and Grandpa gave their boys a happy, stable home and provided for them in every way- physically, emotionally and intellectually. Dad adored his parents and his brothers and no doubt it was these happy origins that made him the all-round happy guy that he was.

Being the middle child, and a redhead, dad did have a penchant for getting himself into mischief. But, despite this tendency and no doubt due to the firm and loving guidance of his parents, dad graduated from Northern Secondary in 1968 and went on to work first at General Electric. Shortly after, in 1971, he landed a job at Consumers` Gas Company, where his father and grandfather had worked before him. Anyone who knew dad knows he really loved his work.

In 1969 dad met a lovely woman named Anne Alexander, who would prove to be the love of his life, and they were married in 1973. I came along later that year, and then Gord, in 1976.

Gord and I kept dad pretty busy for the next little and the next major event in his life came in the fall of 1988. One day, while driving along a remote Ontario road he saw the fall colors out in full display and he found himself overwhelmed by the beauty and majesty of creation. He was so moved by the scene that he pulled his truck over to the side of the road and dedicated his life to Christ. Now, dad was a guy who was on the road a lot, and he'd probably witnessed hundreds of gorgeous fall scenes, but the presence he felt that day was something altogether new to him. He was baptised right behind me here in 1990.

Over the next 15 years dad became increasingly involved in the life of his church, continued to enjoy his work, and, I think most significantly, his relationship with mom really bloomed. He saw his kids off to school, and became a father again, to Rob’s wife Nisha. He became a grandfather to Maya in August 2002 and his second grandchild, Sasha, arrived just 7 weeks ago. He made an attempt at retirement in 2004 but it seems he loved his work so much he returned to the gas company as a consultant not long after. He continued to work right up to this November. He left us peacefully this past Sunday morning, at 3am, with my mother and his brother Jeff by his side.

Those are a few of the facts and events of dad's life, but they don't begin to do him justice. Dad was not a man to toot his own horn, but in his quiet unassuming way he was a pillar of this community. Everything with dad began with his warm smile, and his calm, easygoing nature. Dad had an understated, but quick and ready sense of humour, and if there was still a trace of his mischievious youth in him, it could be found in that twinkle in his eye when he told a joke. Dad approached everything- work, play, and fellowship with genuine enthusiasm. With each passing year dad seemed to bear an increasingly striking resemblance to Santa Claus and although he wasn't a touchy-feely kind of person no one could be unaffected by his warm, cozy bear hugs. It's no wonder dad found an ideal role for himself in this church, as an usher and later as a trustee. A stranger who met him could immediately grasp his gentle nature, kind heart, and generous spirit.

It would be hard to overstate dad's generosity, especially in terms of the time and labour he gave to others. I can only begin to illustrate it by noting that dad was a man who thrived on a job well done. He loved to work for the love of the work itself. He was always ready and willing to lend a hand helping a friend or family member with a move, renovations, building a deck, or checking their furnace. He and mom published the church bulletin for many years. He participated in annual work retreats at Camp Kauquah, and helped out on projects here in the church. He was meticulous, and patient to a fault. I think he loved the comradeship that came with working together and no doubt his coworkers at the gas company would agree. There was also that moment when, at the end of the day he could sit back and admire the work he'd accomplished. I can trace the roots of this passion back to dad's relationship with his father. I have fond memories of the two of them renovating the house together, on Muirhead Cres, or working together on the car or the boat. Afterwards they would sit and relax in the sun and dad would share gas company news with grandpa.

Dad really loved his job at the gas company. As a child I asked him what he did, and when he told me he was a 'telemetry technician' it meant very little to me. Briefly, he and his coworkers were responsible for the network that measured and monitored the flow of natural gas throughout the GTA and most of southern Ontario. I think I was more impressed by the suggestion that if he didn't do his job well, there could be a big explosion. Dad knew the electronics of every base station and substation in the system like the back of his hand, and for good reason. He and his colleagues had built the systems themselves over the past 20-30 years. Dad's job often required that he be on-call, to be ready if something broke down, and more often than not the calls came in the worst winter weather Ontario can muster. But never, not once, did dad ever complain about these calls. He simply loved his work. Just a few days before dad passed away, Nisha and I were driving through Guelph and came to a stop light on Hwy 6 at the south end of town. Right there at the corner is a Union Gas substation, where the gas pipline pops up out of the ground, runs through a little hut and then back into the earth. I pointed to the little hut and told Nisha- I'll bet dad spent hours freezing in that little hut. When she asked him about it later that night he told her, 'Yup, I sure did'. It's nice to think that the fruits of dad's labour can be found all over this province, not just in the gate stations and sub-stations but in our furnaces, our water heaters and our stoves.

Clearly, dad had a passion for all things technical or scientific, whether work-related or not. He had knowledge of meteorology that would rival a sailor's. I made a habit of sending him my copies of the IEEE Spectrum, the electrical engineering trade magazine, and he devoured every issue. He loved to hear about the next generation of cars, airplanes, or high-performance semi-conductors. As a child he gave me my most memorable science fair ideas- pulleys in grade 1, Ohm's law in grade 6. He fed my interests in electricity and computing. I remember him writing programs to calculate gas flow on our first home computer. As I advanced in my own training I fed him information and tips on programming and, as best I could, how to keep the computer virus free. And so, in it's own way my relationship with my father blossomed as his had with his father, through the enjoyment of a shared passion.

I can only hint at everything dad gave to Gord and I. He was our protector. He taught us to skate, how to ride a bike, how to fish, how to waterski, how to drive. He led by example and demonstrated integrity and self-control as a citizen and consumer. He was a scout leader, a hockey coach, a soccer ref. He gave up every winter weekend of our childhoods to take us to hockey games and practises. He spent hours and hours in the Oak Ridges arena, not to mention all that time spent playing road hockey with us in the driveway. He taught us how to catch and swing a bat. He loved sports, not just watching them, but playing them, and taught us the most important rule of all, it doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game. This maxim was not something he spouted as advice- he lived it and he did his best to
insulate us from those who might believe otherwise. For so many years, he played hockey and baseball with the gas company and the church. He was an all-around team-player.

Dad devoted so much of his time to us as kids. This is the one thing that I value most as his son, and value even more now as a father myself-- simply the time he spent on the living room floor with us, building blocks or lego, or puzzles, or wrestling, or just doing nothing at all. In this world of cell phones and email and packed schedules, it's almost hard to imagine that time spent together could be so unhurried, and yet so beneficial to a growing boy.

I can't forget to mention our family vacations. We had a lot of adventures together, always by car. Dad chauffeured us, frequently to Tobermory (always with a stop at A&W in Owen Sound), or to Lake Manitouabing, and almost as often on a far-flung adventure to remote
northern Ontario, or Boston, or Georgia or Disney World. He really did love to be on the road, even with two energetic boys in the back seat. On one such trip we drove the length of highway 11 from Cochrane to Nipigon, probably one of the longest, most monotonous stretches of highway in Ontario- nothing to see but forest on either side of the road. However, there's one feature of the drive that made it especially exciting for the son of a gas company man- every few miles the monotony is broken by the easement of the Trans Canada pipeline- a chance to peer a bit further into the woods and simultaneously marvel at what a cool job my father had.

As a father-in-law and grandfather, no one could have wished for better. Dad truly embraced Nisha and treated her as much as he might have treated his own daughter, even well before we were married. His time as a grandfather was altogether too short, but he loved his
grandkids dearly and was always hungry for news about them. It's a testament to dad's calm, loving nature that Maya, who as a small child was generally wary of adults she hadn't spent much time with, took no time at all to warm up to him on our visits.

On top of being a super father and grandfather, dad was a wonderful, loving husband. Over the years, it has been an amazing, inspiring experience to watch mom and dad's marriage- their relationship and their friendship mature. Mom and Dad were best friends in every
sense. They worked so well together, whether it was parenting, or planning renovations, or putting together the bulletin. As Gord and I grew up they took increasingly wonderful vacations and retreats together. They complemented one another and together presented a
complete whole. Mom and Dad taught us that disagreements and arguments can happen but that love, in the end, conquers all. Together they gave us a wonderful childhood and prepared us for adulthood. On top of this they provided us with a strong, loving community. I am so grateful to dad and you, mom, for these things. Thank you.

And what a wonderful community dad was part of, that we're all a part of. I'm so grateful for all of you at this time. This is a painful time and I recognize that many of you have lost a dear friend. There are too many families to name here who have been touched in one way or
another by my father. It comforts me a little today to know that I'm not alone, that mom and Gord aren't alone in our loss.

I want to close with a few words about fishing. Dad was not a particularly rabid fisherman- he didn't care about gear or gadgets, but he did love to fish. I think many people here today will
recognize that when I talk about fishing I don't actually mean catching fish. I have many fond memories of fishing trips with dad and grandpa in the Muskokas, or just fishing off the dock at the cottage. But dad demonstrated to me the real value of fishing when I'd come down to the cottage dock in the early morning, the water smooth as glass, sun creeping over the pines and I could see him in the canoe, on the far side of the bay, lazily casting with his rod and reeling in. Not a care in the world. In those moments I began to grasp the importance of taking the time to find solitude and enjoy the peace and quiet that only nature can provide.

Now that he's gone, it's that image that I will always cherish, and the one I want to leave with you today- the pure joy and beauty of a man at peace. In his boat with a rod and reel, or perhaps finding a new life on the side of the road on a glorious fall day.

Goodbye dad. You were a great father, grandfather, husband, son, and friend. I love you and I'm going to miss you so much.