You could cast a wide net, ask around, knock on any door — yet you would never meet the all people who knew and loved Bob Darney, and who know and love his wife of 47 years, Mary Anne.
Last Saturday, Nov. 1, a few hundred of Bob’s friends met at the Sechelt Seniors’ Activity Centre to celebrate his life.
Yes, there were the inevitable speeches.
Bob Smith, typically, spoke humbly and beautifully from his heart and without notes. It was, as Smith reminded us, All Saints Day: next to Good Friday and Christmas, the most holy of days, a day to pray for, understand and be inspired by the greatest of people.
Darney was a big and loving man. He was tough, meticulous, brave and endlessly giving. His love for life was fierce. Was he a saint? Nope. He was simply a fine man, and if there is a judgment in Heaven, Darney will say “OK, fine, where’s the kitchen? Who’s hungry?”
There was music. And, of course, there was food. Glorious, magnificent food laid on by the Blue Heron: a spread that Darney would have liked.
Yes, there were funny stories at the microphone.
But the real love was at the tables — among his quiet and heartbroken friends — among the folks who could not put into words the loss they felt and their love for Mary Anne.
At the table, eating the fine food, talking softly, Darney’s life became so clear.
Darney and I seemed to always meet at Claytons, and it was typically a wallet-lightening experience.
I would go to Claytons for a loaf of bread and meet him, inevitably.
We’d cruise the aisles, and he’d point out the little things I might need in my larder. Olives. Peppers. A better olive oil. I’d have gone shopping for a loaf of bread and left with $100 worth of fine food.
Darney and Mary Anne lived the northern life, the tough life. And then they moved down to the Coast, and shared their care.
At his Celebration of Life, amid the music and the food and the talking, Darney was so loved — just as he loved the folks in his community.
