David: A Life

Thanksgiving 1972

February 10, 2023

It is difficult to believe that my brother has been gone for two years. It does not seem like yesterday; it does not seem like it has been longer. It seems like it should never have happened. I am a different person now. I wish this version of me could go back in time and see if one thing could have gone differently. But to wish is to want the opposite of reality. So, I recycle these words I wrote two years ago because the love I wrote them with is the one thing that has remained the same. That and the feeling of loss. I hope you are somewhere amazing David, laughing that mischievous laugh, a twinkle in your blue eyes. Julie xo


The most time I ever spent with my brother David once we were grown and moved away from home was when he was dying. The things I learned about him over the course of those four weeks will be with me forever. I learned that he liked two Sleepy Time tea bags in one cup, heated in the microwave for a minute and forty seconds, with a spoonful of brown sugar. I learned that peanut butter toast was a comfort food he could eat morning, noon and night. And I learned that he could play Simon and Garfunkel for hours and hours and never tire of The Boxer or The Sounds of Silence.

Growing Up Canepa

With six kids born over fifteen years, my family was actually a series of smaller family units. The two oldest siblings, Michele and David, occupied the golden years.  First girl, first boy, first Christmases, first everything. Dresses and bowties, my mother relaxed and sipping on a cocktail, a new car in the driveway every year.

The arrival of my brother Alex and then my arrival a few years later changed the picture slightly. Still the family clung to its image as the smartly dressed brood seen in holiday photos at my grandparent’s house in Quebec.

With the arrival of “the little ones”, Anthony and Angela, all bets were off. The Seventies eroded the dress code, not only of our family, but of the nation. My mother looked increasingly worn out and often wore pants, gasp. The older siblings left the house for college, the military and adventure. For David, Miami called.

Living the Dream

Long distance phone calls were expensive back in the day. David wrote actual letters home, updating the family on his career prospects and living situation. He found a quaint bungalow in Coral Gables and a job at a fine dining establishment. He was living his best life, perhaps too much. He was the heartbeat of the family and he was loved and sorely missed. By the time I was in college, I considered us to be peers and could not wait to visit him in Florida.

David was good at making time spent with him unforgettable. I remember bowling with him in Islamorada and watching the sunset from a rickety pier over the Keys. I remember going out on a charter boat deep sea fishing with him. The captain told us the key to catching a fish. “You jerk, he jerks. The bigger jerk wins.”

I remember soaking up the sun on the beach near the Fontainebleau Hotel while David and his best friend slipped away and charged their drinks at the bar to someone else’s room. I remember driving around Coconut Grove in his MG with the top down, blasting tunes. I remember touring the gardens of Vizcaya with him, reveling in their beauty, not yet realizing my brother for the Renaissance man he would become.

Homeward Bound

Once he was on his feet financially, David returned home every summer to Plattsburgh to see his family. I remember watching the fireworks competition with him in Montreal and helping him make a beautiful buffet for our parents’ surprise 35th wedding anniversary party, perhaps sowing the seeds for my own later passion for creating memorable food.

I remember the joy on his face when he visited me in the Hudson Valley with his beloved Libby, walking through the fields where you could cut your own flowers. I remember him playing with my daughter, Ava, in the backyard of the family house on North Catherine Street, kicking the ball across the grass, laughing and flashing his signature smile. I remember the last meal we shared together when he was still healthy. We had been out of touch for years but when we saw each other that night it was as if no time had passed.

Together Again

On Death and Dying

David was diagnosed with brain cancer in October of 2020. He had brain surgery immediately to remove the bulk of the tumor. Two days after Thanksgiving his wife Libby died unexpectedly, leaving him alone in the house they had just bought for their retirement.  A seizure on Christmas Day was the final blow, stealing whatever hope he had for treatment and possible recovery from the cancer.

David was cared for in his final days with complete, immeasurable love by his family and by compassionate caregivers. During those last few weeks, my attention was in large part unavailable for anything that did not concern him. But for some reason one night I was able to watch The Dig about a famous archeological find in England and the unlikely pair that unearthed it. At the end of the film, I understood why.

The female protagonist experienced a loss of hope at the prospect of her impending death. “We die and we decay,” she said. “We don’t live on.” The excavator who had helped her unearth a piece of ancient history said, “From the first human handprint on a cave wall we’re part of something continuous. So, we don’t really die.” I needed to hear those words.  The continuum of our family lives on, and it is better for David having been part of it. He will be with us always.

13 thoughts on “David: A Life

  1. Oh Julie this is truly very beautiful, your brother had great taste in music I love The Boxer and listen to it often, and cars, it was always my dream to have an MG midget, in JR High I had a MG keychain. You certainly made someone I didn’t know very familiar to me, your memories are beautiful, and David will live on forever in them. 💞

    1. Julie
      Your words and memories of David are so beautiful ! He did have quite the smile. I too remember riding in his MG in Florida. A fun memory I will cherish. Love and hugs

  2. So sorry for your loss Julie . What a beautiful tribute to your brother. I never new you had so many siblings I only knew of Angela . It was so long ago . Again so sorry 😢

  3. Oh Julie, what a beautiful honor to your brother. Great memories that you will always have. When i look at your pictures from a long time ago it amazes me how our parents always had such amazing get togethers with all the homemade food and decorations on the table.
    Family memories are the best. I’m so glad you have those to reflect on.
    I also just watched The Dig recently.
    Great movie. I’m sorry for your loss but know that he is in no pain and we will all be together again in that heavenly reunion with our one and only savior Jesus Christ. May God’s love surround you with comfort and joy. Keep the faith and enjoy the memories. – Karen

  4. Such a beautiful story eloquently told by you, Julie. May your brother’s memory be a blessing. ❤️🙏❤️

  5. Julie: so sorry for your great loss. We are so tied to family, especially siblings, and can not replace them. You have written a beautiful tribute and your love for your brother is ver clear. Hold the memories in your heart.

  6. I read, I cried, I smiled, and I hope you can feel me giving you a hug Julie. Such a beautiful tribute to your brother. I so miss our conversations. God only takes the best!

  7. Julie this is a beautiful heartfelt tribute to your brother, again my sincerest condolences to you and all of your family.

  8. “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” Dr. Seuss. The words you’ve written are a beautiful tribute to your beloved Uncle and to your family. May his love be strong n your heart all of your days.

  9. What a wonderful tribute to David! I enjoyed reading it and seeing the family pictures. You are a gifted writer, Julie.

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