Posting on David’s Facebook page, Joan Bubbs, David’s wife shared the sad news:
“I have signed on to David’s Facebook page to share the heartbreaking news that David died yesterday [Sunday], after a short illness. Some of you will also know that David was suffering from severe dementia. The combination of physical and mental deterioration was just too much.
Funeral details will follow. In the meantime I hope you will remember your relationship with a strong and compassionate leader and friend.
Please pray for his daughters Hope, Sarah and Rachael, and for me.”
I certainly add my own prayers and condolences to Joan and David’s amazing daughters. The last months and years have been hard as this brilliant man who walked through life with a swagger lost his ability to engage with others and with life itself. For me personally, dozens of stories come to heart and mind as I remember David as a bishop, mentor, and friend.
We first met when as a new bishop he led a retreat for clergy in the Diocese of British Columbia [now “Islands and Inlets”]. I was a new ordinand in a church vastly different from that of today. He was intelligent, confident, experienced, witty, a gifted conversationalist, a good theologian, politically savvy, well acquainted with the arts, and full of fun, all characteristics I sought to develop for myself.
We knew a person in common, my great Aunt, Doris Skelton, who was an influential lay leader at St. Paul’s in the West End where David was rector prior to his election as Bishop of Kootenay. When he needed support from elders, she spoke up. In the early days of the AIDS epidemic he build bridges between the LGBT community (as it was then called) and the church. That ministry was courageous, energetic, and effective. He described this ministry in “A Parish Transformed,” a chapter in Charles Hefling (Ed), Our Selves, Our Souls and Bodies. Cambridge, Mass: Cowley Publications. 1996.
Two particular experiences remain for me from that 1990 clergy retreat. The first were his words “our legacy in the residential schools will transform the church forever.” Did it ever; and I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
Few will know that in later years, at the request of Primate Michael Peers (who thought David a better straight-faced poker player than himself), David headed up a national church team to sit across a negotiating table with federal government lawyers and officials in the basement of Christ Church Cathedral in Vancouver. David once told me of a three-minute silence where the fate of the Anglican Church of Canada hung precariously in the balance, until government negotiators agreed to a process where the church could survive and victims of abuse could receive appropriate and timely compensation. (The agreement was variously received as it did not include losses beyond physical and sexual abuse, but that’s a story for another day.)
The second consequence of that retreat was that David got his hook into two of us young clergy, the late David Dingwall and me. We both eventually moved to Kootenay, David to the Shuswaps and me to Summerland.
Prior to David’s arrival in Kootenay the diocese was in considerable distress due to historical events. His vision of renewal was to support the clergy through an annual cycle of retreats, workshops, and education days. He poured energy, and money (we had money in those days) into each of these. He also maintained — at least with me — a steady flow of phone calls and visits. He taught me a lot about how to negotiate parish and diocesan life. At one point when I had to bring a major parish project to a halt he was very clear: “Make sure the parish makes the decision; not you.” In other words, trust is built, not assumed, or enforced.
As regional dean I joined others in seasonal meetings across the diocese. In all of these, there were stories, confessions, explanations, connections with the wider church, and always, humour. Certain phrases remain with me from those meetings. As one who engaged the politics and current events he would often say that “some of us like to play in the traffic.” As we discussed parishes, people, and projects together an idea or an image would arise, to which he would respond, “there’s a sermon in there somewhere.” He loved language; so when the popular book Eats, Shoots, Leaves was published he declared himself “the president and sole member of the society for the preservation of the noun.”
What I loved most was his ability to engage life and people deeply. He really could “work the room” as we say. His varied experience elsewhere in the Canadian church prepared him well for the episcopate and with higher office including a term as acting primate.
One final, and funny story is worth sharing. For much of his life David was an avid skier. Having spent so much time on the bald prairie, he compensated once in BC. With Jack Greenhalgh, he skied almost weekly throughout the Big White season. Some forays were better than others. On one session he fell and broke something important. During removal from the slope a first responder asked for his name. He replied, “David Crawley.” A few moments later the same assistant asked him: “How are you doing Dave?” To which he responded, with characteristic clarity and a certain annoyance, “no one calls me Dave.”
Rest in piece David. We now take up your torch as best we can, some of us with fond memories, and all of us in faith, hope, and love.
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Take Note - Reflections on life, music, politics, retirement and more by Ken Gray 
what a beautiful tribute Ken. And wonderful insight into a gifted church leader. David is the same age as my husband whose passion for United Church ministry and connecting the Bible and the newspaper was his lifelong calling. He also has advanced dementia and to see these highly skilled dynamic clergy gradually loose all of their gifts and abilities is the longest heartbreak.
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Thank you Ken, we have both been so fortunate and privileged to have been serving the church in the presence of the wise and inspirational leader that David was . In Cariboo we were, in the same era, inspired by David and his good friend Bishop James Cruikshank; those were different times and we are so blessed to have been in the presence of and inspired by, such spirited and authentic leadership. His presence embraced grace, humour and generosity that will dwell within us always. Trev.
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