While we’re on the “tell me about Joey” track, here’s another little snippet. This was written by our friend Kimberly and was originally intended to be read at his service in Powell River, but she just couldn’t. Here it is now.
(The speech that wasn’t)
Joey was someone best described in terms of “always”. He didn’t sometimes have a hug for you. He didn’t sometimes have a compliment for you. He didn’t sometimes make sure you got home safely. Joey always had a hug for you. A good hug. Even if it hurt. He always had a compliment for you, the kind of compliment that made you glow for a whole week. And he did it without pissing off his wife. Which is skill. He always made sure you got home safely. After a long day, with one eye open, he would happily lead you back down through the after hours maze at St Pauls, both pointing out, and protecting you from, the ghosts roaming the hallways. Then he would stay awake to wait for your confirmation of safe arrival. If you were too slow, you could expect the army called in.
And he always , always looked at Kirstin as though she was the only girl in the world. Even when she had smoke shooting out of her ears and her flaming red hair was standing on end. Especially when she was shreiking with laughter, chattering at a pitch and speed unrivaled by, well, period. But most of all when she was taking advantage of every possible moment to fill his life with colour, vibrancy and love.
Joey taught me a lot over the years. He taught me to golf. He taught me not to bitch and moan quite so much. And he taught me to appreciate having such a friend as Kirstin who is always there to encourage bitching and moaning about what feels like problems, and with practical solutions to actual problems. Who will dose me with biting, delicious sarcasm at every encounter. Who will appreciate me, jokes and all.
I love you both.