Brian Shore

There are very few people whose lives quietly set a standard for how the rest of us should live.

Brian was one of those people.

Brian lived with dignity, honor, and an unshakable moral compass. He did not seek recognition; he earned respect simply by being who he was. He was a man of deep principle and genuine kindness, whose character spoke louder than any title or accomplishment ever could.

Brian believed in doing the right thing—always. Not when it was easy. Not when it was convenient. But because it was right. He looked for the good in people and often found it before they saw it in themselves. He listened with intention, consoled with compassion, encouraged with belief, and loved without condition. He carried humility with confidence, and when he spoke, it was thoughtful, honest, and grounded in care. He always wanted me to be better—and he expected it.

Brian loved laughter. He valued a good joke and understood the power of joy. He knew that laughter connects us, heals us, and reminds us that life is meant to be shared. His presence brought warmth, and his humor brought light.

As an older brother, Brian was exceptional. He was a protector, advisor, and true friend. He called every day. He stayed present. He paid attention. He offered guidance shaped by experience and wisdom rooted in love. He shared current events, asked questions, and talked things through—because conversation mattered, and people mattered.

Brian attended Bentley University, where his foundation in business, ethics, and leadership took shape. Those values followed him throughout his life and defined the way he worked, led, and treated others.

In real estate, Brian was trusted and respected. He was an expert negotiator and a steady presence for buyers, sellers, and fellow Realtors. One testimonial says it best:

“Brian provides stellar support, knows the market, puts time and effort into his work, and is always professional and pleasant. I would highly recommend Brian.”

Brian founded Oakley Real Estate, and his office became more than a business—it became a place of connection. Neighbors stopped by just to talk, and Brian welcomed every one of them. His work ethic, integrity, and warmth were immediately evident. His employees laughed together, joked together, and felt valued, because Brian created a culture rooted in respect and humanity.

Before real estate, Brian worked at Shore Drug alongside his father, Leo Shore, and his brother, Dana. He knew the pharmacy business inside and out and knew customers by name—because no one was ever just a transaction to him. He lived at home with his mother, Sonia, and cared for her with devotion. He cooked for her, took her to the pool every morning in the summer, and picked her up every afternoon. He learned to cook by watching his mother and made the best salad any of us will ever know.

Brian was a proud member of the 100 Club, following in his father’s footsteps, and he supported the families of police officers and firefighters throughout Massachusetts, honoring service and sacrifice.

Brian loved sports—football, baseball, and every Boston team. Sports were another way he connected with people and shared joy.

He once took a cross-country road trip with a friend, driving through state after state, living his belief in being mission-defined and mission-accomplished.

Brian had a gentle and observant soul. He loved birds and photography, like his brother, Neal, spending quiet time at Mount Auburn Cemetery capturing birds and flowers with his Nikon camera. He noticed beauty where others rushed past it.

He loved fried clams and baked seafood. Later in life, he was careful with sugar and salt, mindful of his health—because he planned to keep showing up for the people he loved.

Above all, Brian loved his family. His nieces and nephew were his greatest joy. He created an atmosphere of laughter, warmth, and love. He delighted in watching Amber dance, Alex play tennis, and Samantha care for her daughter, London. Holidays and birthdays were sacred to him—moments that mattered.

Brian believed he was lucky. He chose gratitude. He refused negativity. He was not materialistic. What mattered to him were people, relationships, and purpose.

There is a poem that speaks about the dash between the date we are born and the date we leave this world. It reminds us that what truly matters is not the dates themselves, but how we live the dash in between.

Brian lived his dash with intention.

He filled it with kindness, service, laughter, integrity, and love.

He showed up. He cared deeply. He made people better simply by being present in their lives.

Even now, it feels as though Brian is still here. We don’t want to speak of him in the past tense, because love like his does not end. Brian is loyal. Brian is steady. Brian is my brother and my friend.

Today feels dark.

But Brian’s sun will never set.

And because of the way he lived his dash, he remains with us—in how we treat one another, in how we choose kindness, and in how we live our own lives going forward.

We will love you forever.

And we will miss you—always.

Services for Brian are TBD.