On February 27th, 2026, my Dad, David Charles Tafelsky, passed away after a long battle with a rare cancer called chordoma. Despite having been anticipating this moment for many years, it didn’t make his death any easier to manage emotionally.
However, that anticipation filled my thoughts with what I would say at my Dad’s funeral and the story I would tell to those who wished to hear it.
Below is a video of David’s service, which was held at Reynolds-Jonkhoff Funeral Home in Traverse City, Michigan.
Under the video is a transcription of the eulogy I gave at the service (or skip to listen to my speech in the video by clicking here). Further below is Dave’s obituary.
Eulogy: “Eternally Grateful for My Dad, David Tafelsky”
Nothing or no one can prepare you for the loss of someone who has been a part of your life since day one.
Not just anybody. Someone who has shown you unconditional love since the beginning. Someone you could always trust and count on when in a bind. Someone you could talk to about anything. Someone who always showed up and took joy in showing up.
That someone is my Dad, the man whose life we’re celebrating today. To have a Dad like mine is a very rare gift. And for the 39 years of my life that I got to know him, love him, and learn from him, I am eternally grateful.
If you knew my Dad, then you probably know that beyond the brute hardness, there was a unique tenderness. A man with a big heart who felt deeply and gave a damn about the things that mattered in life.
When I was young, we spent a lot of time in the woods. My dad taught me stillness and calmness, to be able to pause and listen to the world around me. He taught me how to control a wandering mind, and that having dominion over the mind was critical in a world full of distractions.
He taught me how to be disciplined, to take action, and to get things done, because no one was going to do it for me.
My dad practiced what he preached. He worked harder than anyone I knew, working long hours at a blue-collar job to build a white-collar life for his family. He demonstrated that hard work can indeed pay off, and you can pave the way for your life if you set your mind to it.
Maybe that’s why he carried the nickname “Paver” amongst his brothers and sister.
My Dad set the high bar for my sister and I. Excellence in education and any athletics or extracurricular pursuits was non-negotiable. You would either kick ass at it, or you wouldn’t waste your time at it.
You would get only A’s and B’s on your report card, because if your education was lacking, you wouldn’t have the upper hand in today’s competitive job market.
He would frequently say, “It’s all about having that piece of paper,” because without it, you’d be behind. My Dad was persistent in ensuring we created a life for ourselves that he didn’t have. Little did we know at the time that he was giving us a massive head start.
Again, that sort of thing is rare, and for that I am eternally grateful.
My Dad’s level of sacrifice and presence was remarkable. He didn’t just show up for my baseball games. He stepped up and volunteered to coach when our Williamsburg Little League team needed one. He gave kids a chance to pitch even when they didn’t have the arm for it. He created memories that will never be forgotten and unified a circle of friends that remains intact today.
He was all about exposing us to experiences and extracting every bit of meaning and purpose from our young lives. When my mom and I got into skiing and snowboarding, instead of draining his bank account to fund our hobby, he got a part-time job at the ski resort, helping maintain the lodge and keep the fire burning. After working his full-time day job, he would work a second part-time evening job, just so my mom and I could ski for free.
On his days off, my Dad would put his family first and prioritize his time around the people he loved. He sacrificed his day off to care for his mother Gloria, when she needed help at the end of her life. He would help us replace the brakes on our vehicles, insisting we do it ourselves rather than pay a mechanic, even though we didn’t have a garage.
He didn’t just fill his free time for us because he had to. He enjoyed it because he loved us, and any time with us was time well spent.
While my Dad had many amazing qualities and a character I am privileged to embody today, he was far from perfect and made his fair share of mistakes. Later in life, he apologized for being so tough on me. But it was that tough love that shaped me in ways that I am grateful for.
My sister Sierra is no stranger to the level of tough love my Dad had for us. He had a way of parenting that may have seemed harsh on the surface at times, but it fostered a sense of fortitude and drive that was unstoppable in the face of any challenges we might encounter.
A little over six years ago, I received the news from him that signified the ultimate challenge he would ever face. That was a devastating cancer diagnosis; the painful thing growing on his sacrum over the past several months was a tumor called “chordoma,” a cancer so rare that one in a million people get it.
The average lifespan of a person with chordoma is two years. My Dad made it six.
Over those years, he went through two extensive surgeries to have the cancer removed. Little did we know, until we started seeing specialists at the University of Michigan, that surgery doesn’t work for chordoma.
My Dad underwent an advanced radiation treatment called proton therapy, which was only available at Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak. For several months, he would drive down on a Monday morning to get treatments every day before coming back home on Friday.
I went with him most of those weeks. And while I somewhat dreaded it at the time, I would drop everything to do it again today. I look back with gratitude for that time I got to spend with him. Those long drives downstate, listening to ’90s grunge rock with my Dad, getting takeout at random eateries, and hanging out at the dingy Hotel Royal Oak. Just my dad and I, going to battle against chordoma.
I know my sister would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but she didn’t have the luxury of a remote job as I did. She was his real ally in his fight, especially near the end when my dad’s pain became unbearable. She was there for him through some of the toughest times, when the hospitals didn’t have any answers or solutions, and when we had to make difficult decisions about how to manage his pain.
The 6-year fight against cancer should not define my dad’s life. Rather, it’s the resilience and brute strength my Dad had through it all that truly defines who my Dad was.
It was his response, “I am doing okay,” when really his pain was an excruciating 8 out of 10, and he couldn’t even sit down to relax and get a bit of comfort. Consistent sleep and relaxation were nonexistent for years. And the sheer level of pain he experienced – from shooting sciatica, bladder spasms, arthritis, and the simple inability to sit – is incomprehensible. And yet, he remained on his feet, fighting until the final day of his life.
Today, we honor a real warrior, a relentless fighter, and an unbreakable man who had the courage and strength to endure more over the course of life than most people can fathom.
That man is David Charles Tafelsky, and I have the honor to call him my Dad.
And for that, I am eternally grateful.
Obituary for David Charles Tafelsky
WILLIAMSBURG – David C. Tafelsky, 65, ascended into heaven early Friday morning, February 27, 2026. He passed peacefully in his home, surrounded by his loving children and family.
He was born on March 5, 1960, in Traverse City, the son of Charles and Gloria (Shumsky) Tafelsky. David grew up in Traverse City, where he attended St. Francis High School and graduated in 1978.
After high school, David pursued a longstanding career as a maintenance technician, where he furthered his skills in trade school, specializing in various manufacturing technologies. Throughout his life, he worked for companies like United Technologies, Lear Corporation, and Leelanau Industries.
David lived a simple life that emulated the sacrifice of Jesus, putting others before himself and providing the best for his children. Education and a strong work ethic were fundamental principles he lived by and instilled deeply in his kids.
In 1992, David moved to Williamsburg with his former wife, Cynthia, and son, Tyler, where he lived the remainder of his life. Later in 2001, he welcomed his loving daughter, Sierra, into the world alongside his former spouse, Sue, and stepchildren, Melissa and Craig.
In addition to his supportive children, Sierra (Ryan) and Tyler (Elizabeth), David is survived by his siblings Timothy (Luan), Mark (Mary), Jeanne (Curtis), Robert (Mary Jo), and Thomas.
David fought his illness with strength and steady faith. Even on his hardest days, he kept going with quiet courage and deep love for his family, always showing us what it means to never give up.
A service will be held at Reynolds-Jonkhoff Funeral Home in Traverse City, Friday, March 13, 2026. Visitation at 2 PM and service at 3 PM, with Father Michael presiding. Memorials can be directed to the family via Tyler Tafelsky, with proceeds going to the Chordoma Foundation.
Special Thanks To
Father Michael Verschaeve of St. Mary of the Woods Catholic Church
Mark Tafelsky for music at the funeral service
Don Rigda, Funeral Director at Reynolds Jonkhoff Funeral Home