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Something happened here
Something happened here,” said Father George Okoye from his pulpit on Friday morning. Something about his observation seemed to give the priest pause. Up to that point, it had been a traditional and mostly predictable Catholic funeral service, overlaying the Gospel reading onto the life of the departed. Stand. Sit. Stand. Kneel. Sit. Stand. But along the way, Fr. Okoye caught himself up. He gazed out to the mass of people who had gathered to say farewell to Barry Davidson. Every pew was occupied.
“Something happened here,” Fr. Okoye observed again. More declarative. More certain. With wonder.
“Never have I seen such numbers,” said the parish priest presiding over the mass at Barry Davidson’s funeral service. “Not at Easter. Not at Christmas. Not for weddings. Never have I seen such numbers.”
A long pause as he and the gathering— some just happy to have a seat during a long Catholic mass—considered these words.
“Something happened here,” repeated Father Okoye.
Much has been said and written about Barry Davidson since his passing earlier this month. Much of it documenting his astonishing array of accomplishments. The things he put his hand to and got done. The publisher of this newspaper made a wonderful contribution two weeks ago, as did others in conversation and remembrance. But no list felt complete. No matter how many achievements and endeavours were documented, there were surely many others that remained unsaid.
His children spoke of a kind and generous father. Of a man who instilled a sense of duty—of a responsibility to improve the world around them. Of a man who woke up every day with a sense of purpose. Those duties and responsibilities weren’t abstract or distant—they were near and close. They were in his household, where recycling was diligently and carefully sorted. It was in serving at the local food bank. It was by providing shelter to refugees fleeing violence and persecution.
Such contributions are well documented. But the bit that struck me about Fr. Okoye’s observation was his expression of wonderment. It’s a sense perhaps everyone who knew Barry is feeling in his absence.
Something had happened here. Something had drawn so many people to this church on a rainy April morning. Many more to the reception at the Wellington Community Centre afterwards. Something had happened to cause Gerard Kennedy—former Ontario Education minister and candidate for the leadership of the federal Liberal party—to remember Barry so fondly and so fully.
Before he entered politics, Kennedy was involved in food banks, first in Edmonton and later leading the Daily Bread Food Bank in Toronto. That is where he encountered Barry. Kennedy described Barry as a “clutch founding member of the board, chair and multi-purpose volunteer.”
“He single-handedly built a coast-to-coast system for sharing millions of pounds of food industry market surpluses for free by piggybacking on empty backhaul trucking or rail,” wrote Kennedy in tribute. “Families who got help in Halifax, Abbottsford or St. John’s never knew it was partly because one stubborn but extremely capable guy in Toronto wouldn’t go home until every shipment was arranged, very often lining up the final skids himself late at night to make sure they would be ready to ship in the morning.”
Barry was much more than the sum of his accomplishments. His impact resounds. Echoes. Everyone, including Kennedy, observed Barry’s ‘stoic resolve to get things done’. Yet, it was Fr. Okoye who pointed to the wake that Barry leaves behind. Waves folding on waves. Ripples stretching ever wider. Reshaping everything it touches.
Something happened here.
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