My niece, Kate, was born on June 1 last year. Her other grandmother, born on June 22, then commented that “all the best people are born in June.” Being a June baby myself, I readily agreed. With all due respect, she was wrong.
The best person was born in April. April 20, 1952 to be specific. Dave was the best person. Kind, loyal, genuine. A supreme husband, father, son. And brother. And I should know; we were born a mere 14 months apart. I was privileged and honored to know him for 56 years.
I won’t recount our early adventures; watching a fake TV on the wall; being put out of the car to walk home because we were bickering in the back seat. And then being picked up by the neighbors who had the first air-conditioned car we had ever seen.
When Dave met Donna in 1978 it was obvious that this was it. And he was right. Donna was a “true Krache” from the start. And then, Allison. Dave was so excited that she was coming. He knew she would be a girl when Donna went into labor in the early morning after what we will politely call a late night. Allison, do you remember him explaining Canadian football to you during your late night feedings? And then Annie; the Doc. I remember him telling me about the time you put a piece of your batty in his brief case so he wouldn’t forget you when he was away from home. Annie, he will never forget you.
Dave was a true and kind friend. Always there for anyone who needed him.
His care and concern for his family, friends and community were apparent. He was driven by a desire to make things good and right and better for others.
I was proud and thrilled to have him walk me down the aisle when I married Bob.
I will miss him terribly. He will always be in my heart.
Love, T XOXO
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