FRYER, David Robert Fryer

I was born on September 11, 1955, and if you forgot my birthday, I probably reminded you (politely…once).

I passed away on April 3, 2026. I’ve left behind a whole lot of love, a few strong opinions, and enough memories to keep you laughing at least through dessert.

I married the love of my life, Michele, my favourite person and my best decision, and together, we built a life we were proud of (and somehow made it look easy). We also raised our two sons, Nathan and Nicholas (Rachel), who made me proud every single day…even when they were testing my patience like it was a competitive sport.

My in-laws, Grandma and Grandpa Kong Quee, welcomed me with genuine love, kindness, and a sense of belonging I hadn’t known before. They always saw me for who I was, laughed at my jokes (even the ones that deserved silence) and most importantly, the saw the love I had for their daughter Michele. For that, I will always be grateful.

David Robert Fryer worked hard my whole life, with Michele and our boys right there with me, growing our businesses, Halton Tool and Halton Metal. We built something solid, and along the way the team at Canada Brick became more than business contacts, they became real friends who helped our family find stability (and probably heard me crack a joke or two). And my Italian friends at the brick plant? They didn’t just give me advice; they made sure I learned how to make a mean capicola. Then tomato season would hit and I’d be in my element, because those Italian heirloom tomatoes were unreal. If there was an award for “strongest tomato opinion”, I’d like to think I was at least nominated.

One of the highlights of my life was building a motorcycle and the AC Cobra with my dad, Ernie. We didn’t just build a bike and car, we built memories (and tested a few patience levels along the way).

Motorcycle rides were my kind of therapy, cheaper than a couch, and with better scenery. Add Motown (especially Marvin Gaye) and I was basically living the dream.

Al Wilson was my best friend – plain and simple. We had a friendship like no other, spanning more than 60 years, and it included a whole lot of nights with wings and drinks at Gator Ted’s with Michele and Bev. If there was laughter in the room, we were usually responsible for at least half of it.

My chosen family from childhood included Mike Pinfold – my brother in every way except paperwork. To his kids I was always Uncle Dave, which sounds wholesome until you realize it also meant, “the guy who encouraged questionable dares”. Mike was brave enough to DJ mine and Michele’s wedding, where my two left feet helped me perfect the only dance move I ever truly mastered: “the robot”.

Shortly after marrying Michele, her family introduced me to Bob Kayat (Bobby). It was love at first sight – strictly platonic, but intense. Bob and I built a bond fast, and from that moment on I was linked with the Kayats whether they like it or not (good news: they did).

I genuinely like helping people, and if you needed a hand, chances are I was already on my way, sometimes before you finished explaining what you needed.

For the last decade of my life, Long Point was my happy place. The second I drove down the causeway, my blood pressure dropped about ten points…instant therapy. The sound of the waves, whether I was sitting in the living room or our on the front deck could calm my mind like nothing else (and that’s saying something).

Long Point also gave us a “family by absorption”, and trust me, I took that role seriously. I loved cooking for our beach family, especially Fridays, when I’d do a big fish fry and make sure nobody left hungry (or quietly, because that’s what happens when the food is good). Then Saturday night we’d carry on at the DaSilva cottage: good food, lots of dominos, plenty of laughs, and the absolutely joy of watching my honourary niece, Blaire grow up right in front of us.

Cancer came knocking at my door three times. I was ready to fight again, but the third time was simply too much. The emotional exhaustion of the prior two years took a toll, and in the end, I needed rest and my little Bella was waiting for her belly rub.

If you feel like doing something in my honour, please skip the flowers (they’re tossed after we all leave the building), and consider a donation to the Juravinski Cancer Centre. The help I received there gave me more days to enjoy life and make memories, and I used those days exactly how you’d expect: loving my people, telling jokes, and occasionally being a pain in the ass.

So, when you think of me and feel that ache that I’m gone, do me a favour: grab onto the good memories and let yourself smile. And if you happen to hear Motown, smell capicola, or see a perfect tomato, consider that a little hello from me. I’ll be watching.

With love (and one last wink),

Dave

Friends are invited to visit with Dave’s family on Wednesday, April 8, 2026 from 1-2 p.m. at KITCHING, STEEPE & LUDWIG FUNERAL HOME 146 Mill St. N., where a Funeral Service will begin at 2 p.m. Reception to follow.