Drake Harrison's

Eulogy

Hello everyone, my name is Gabriel. Today I have the honour of speaking to you about one of the most special people in my life, my grandpa. In the days since he passed away, I have been trying to find a way to put my feelings about him into words, and I’ll be honest- this has proved to be an impossible task. He was truly indescribable. But instead, I would like to share with you a few of my recent reflections and memories about the beautiful man who helped raise me.

My journey of getting to know my grandpa has spanned nearly 3 decades, and my own understanding of him has evolved considerably over that time. Getting to know him was like putting together the pieces of a puzzle, in which I was only given the pieces one at time over many years. I came to know him slowly, in layers, through his own stories, memories shared with me by others, and small precious moments we shared as I grew up.

Knowing him as I do now, I recognize him as the formidable and inspiring figure that he was to many of you; but to me, for many of my earliest years, he was just a grandpa like any other. He was a constant source of love, comfort, and fun. He taught me to fish, to sing, and to play keyboard when it became clear that I had no aptitude for singing. He always had a stash of delicious snacks and candies in his room that he would sneak to my brother and I between meals. He introduced us to his favourite TV shows, like The Cosby Show, or, when mom and dad weren’t home, General Hospital. He taught us about his favourite baseball and hockey players. When he gave me my daily bath, instead of giving me a 5-minute warning to finish up, he would count me from 1 until “Wayne Gretzky.” At 99, time was up and I had to get out of the bath. He taught us to play his childhood games, like Checkers and Chess. In return, he tolerated hours of us forcing him to play Monopoly. He was simply my wonderful, loving grandpa.

However, it wasn’t long before I began to get inklings that my grandpa was,
perhaps, no ordinary grandpa. When we went out together, I could see that others treated grandpa with a particular respect and deference. We often joked that taking grandpa out to an event was akin to going out with a celebrity- he would constantly be stopped by well-wishers, coming over for a quick chat, or just to pay their respects. Everybody seemed to know him, and he seemed to know everyone just as well. I distinctly remember feeling undeservedly special on such occasions, just by being associated with him. But while I laughed about it at the time, I later came to realize what a beautiful phenomenon that was. Grandpa made connections wherever he went, and would pour tremendous energy into maintaining and nurturing those connections. He truly believed in the sacred value of people and
relationships. Through a complex system of letters, phone calls, and, later on, emails, grandpa maintained a social network that would rival even Mark Zuckerburg’s. In the last weeks of his life, his happiest moments were spent visiting and video- chatting with his loved ones, an activity that brought him tremendous joy and strength. He built, for us, an incredible network of family ties and lifelong friendships, which has supported our family for decades, and which continues to support us here, in this room, today. In this way, grandpa gave us the precious gift of community and belonging.

There are hundreds of other stories that I could tell, memories and experiences and tiny insignificant moments that helped to shape my understanding of Drake Harrison as a whole person. Slowly, as the pieces of the puzzle have come together, I have come to recognize him for who he really was: a fighter, an educator, an advocate, a storyteller, and a leader in our family and our community. Even now, I get the sense that my picture is incomplete, and that in the years to come, I will continue to fill in the gaps with new and surprising details about this truly remarkable man.

But for today, I will happily and gratefully remember the small things that made him my own- the softness of his skin when he held my hand during hockey games, the smell of Johnson’s baby lotion when he hugged me, the twinkle in his eye when he was about to tell a joke. Today, I will remember him simply as my grandpa, knowing what a tremendous blessing it is to do so.