WILEY, Keith

It is with grieving hearts that we announce the passing of Keith Wiley on February 4th, 2021. He is predeceased by his common-law partner, Gillian Richardson. His daughters, Erin and Heather (spouse Ted), and grandchildren, Miyah and Jacob will miss him dearly. He also leaves behind his brother Kent (spouse Dion) and first wife and mother of his children, Marilyn.
Keith was Born on September 18th, 1946 in Montreal and moved to Toronto in his early teens. His parents were originally from Grand Falls, NB.
He was an avid horse jockey and made it to the Nationals to try out for the Mexican Olympics in 1968. Sadly, he suffered an injury which ended his horse riding career. But his passion for horses never died and he could often be found at the Mohawk Racetrack. He proudly described himself as a “professional gambler” right up until his last days.
He went to University of Guelph and graduated with a BA in 1969 where he met his first wife, Marilyn, and settled in the Guelph area. After their separation, he worked and lived in Toronto and spent the past 30 years in Burlington.
These are words many used to describe him: a free spirit, present, fun, life of the party, impulsive, troublemaker, ladies' man, poetic, playful, dreamer, emotive, highly sensitive, brilliant, horse lover, charming, kind, people person. One thing is for sure -- he is unforgettable.
We are forever grateful to the Elliott Community for their exceptionally attentive care over the past 2 years in supporting him with dementia.  Rising above the challenge of his health, he made friends there through his charm, quick wit and stories. The best way to summarize his way of life is through his favourite poem he memorized:
 
If by Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
   Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
   But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
   Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
   And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
   If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
   And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
   Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
   And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
   And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
   And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
   To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
   Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
   Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
   If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
   Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
 
Arrangements entrusted to the WALL-CUSTANCE FUNERAL HOME & CHAPEL 519-822-0051