He sang write along, throwing his hands up in worship. My brother was not perfect, but he didn't pretend to be either. He talked about his struggles, and he talked about missing home and his boys and grandkids. Though at the time, I had not met all of his sons, I felt like I knew them from the stories he told. What I would give for one more hug. To hear one more laugh, or "Hey, Sis." To tell him that I love him and appreciate all that he did for me and how incredibly proud I was to be his little sister. Godspeed, Brother, and say hi to daddy for me.

I could not speak at my brother's service. Nothing prevented me from speaking aside from my own grief. I loved my big brother, and I know he loved me. I find myself thinking, "I'm going to call Gene" or thinking I will make something for my mom to share with him when he comes over and then being overcome with the stark reality that he is gone, and I won't get to see or speak to him again. Gene could talk to anyone; he was an animated storyteller. He joked as much as he did, I think, to mask his own pain. I don't think he ever really got over the loss of our own dad at the young age of 59. While you could not depend on Gene to show up when you wanted, he still showed up. I think he ran around helping so many people that he often forgot when he said he'd be by. Gene was always trying to help me. I remember his back being injured and him still coming over in the rain to put a tarp on my roof because I was so stressed out. Or trying to be a positive role model in my boys' lives, letting them know he was there for them but that one thing he wasn't going to do was let them disrespect their mom. Gene helped anyone he could despite not having much himself and not asking for anything in return, even if he really needed it. If he had something, he wanted to share. I remember coming home to find him putting mulch in my flower beds when I had asked him over for something else. He didn't care about things. He cared about people. When I had a health scare a few months ago, he was there for me. He loved my kids, and they loved him, especially my little girl. Gene loved to work with his hands and was good at it. He found beauty in what others discarded and repurposing what he found into something better. One of my favorite memories of my brother is when he first moved back out here. I invited him to church with me. He instantly recognized that the pastor was from North Carolina when he began to speak, which he got a kick out of (cont).

Chris is boy and hannah and Trevor is grandkids

Chris Noah and David with hannah and David thr 3rd

Funeral in NC where Blaine and Liam decided they wanted to take a photo on their Great Great Grandmas grave.

Dad these kids loved you so much. You made them laugh every time and every-time I called they wanted to talk to you more than I did.

My first Truck ride with my dad and Darlenawhen I moved to California

I’ll never forget you getting up to smoke a cigarette and Mike Trout hitting his 10h home run!

Class of 1986
Fontana High School
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David "Gene" Weeks

22 January, 1968 – 1 September, 2024

Green Acres Memorial Park & Mortuary

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