Kenneth Alan Eustace

There are times when something happens that seems random and unjustified by events that passed only a brief time before.  Sometimes we are rewarded by a glimpse into the person we knew and loved, the person who laid the foundation for loving the stranger with whom we now interact.  This unacknowledged gift from God allows us to pass through our children’s teenage search for identity and adulthood.  It strengthens us to love and care for the elderly and demented when they present their most trying and adversarial characteristics, day after day. Sometimes, we see it as hope, when a brother or sister turns their life around, and returns to being more of the person we have carried in our hearts, and longed to find again. So it was with Kenny.  He seemed to finally have found peace and security.  It did not seem much to those who knew all that he had once had, the potential that had drained away over the years of hard living. For Kenny, it was a King’s riches; a little home, containing the bare necessities, with a door he could use to shut out the world, or to re-enter it.  The library, source of companionship and food for his soul, was a short distance away.  He could afford all he needed on his VA pension and benefits, and he felt safe.  For all too brief a time, Kenny was happy. 

All that changed when he suffered a brain trauma earlier this year and descended rapidly into paranoia and survival mode.  It was with trepidation and sadness that we watched a kind, witty, and caring man rapidly decline despite the best efforts of a wonderful social worker, the care of neighbours and friends, and regular interventions from family. Kenny’s life ended abruptly on July 12, 2017 as a result of the spiral that started with his brain injury.  Those who loved and knew him lost a dear brother, beloved uncle, and great uncle, and his friends lost a champion of the socially marginalized.  Kenny will be remembered for his sharp wit, slightly wicked sense of humour, his deep love of reading and ability to analyse and extrapolate from the texts he read, and his sense of caring and social justice. We will miss him.

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