It is with broken hearts, endless stories, and more dark humour than most obituaries can legally contain that the family of Jim Steele announce his peaceful passing on May 5th, 2026, at Lillian Fraser Memorial Hospital in Tatamagouche, Nova Scotia.

If you looked up the words loyal, kind, devoted, stubborn, opinionated, and professional complainer in the dictionary, there's a good chance Jim would argue with the definition — loudly — while teaching you the proper way to sharpen a knife.

Jim served Canada proudly in the Canadian Armed Forces for over 19 years, including several overseas tours. He was known by many as a prankster, a storyteller, and, according to international troops during one deployment, "Trading Post Jim" because he could somehow barter patches, gear, snacks, or random treasures out of absolutely anyone. If there was a military story to tell, Jim had one — usually involving heatstroke, poor decisions, or exploding cases of Dr Pepper in the desert sun.

His military brothers remember him for his wicked sense of humour and constant practical jokes. One friend recalled rubbing black ink inside Jim's beret during a long May 24 weekend shift. Hours later, Jim unknowingly smeared ink all over his own face and completely lost his mind trying to figure out what was happening while everyone else nearly died laughing. Naturally, Jim retaliated the next week with red ink. Balance was restored.

Jim loved the outdoors fiercely. He loved Debert Lake, fishing trips, hunting season, campfires, side-by-side rides through mud deep enough to concern normal people, and horses — especially the calm they brought him. He loved farming, raising food from start to finish, and endlessly perfecting his spaghetti sauce recipe like it was a classified military operation.

He raised dart frogs and tarantulas because apparently regular pets were too boring. He adored baby animals, especially calves, birds, poults, and anything small enough to crawl into his beard — which he maintained with great pride. Baby turkeys playing in that beard was one of his greatest joys in life.

Jim also loved knives, survival gear, terrariums, frogs, spiders, and explaining all of those things to absolutely anyone who accidentally made eye contact long enough to get trapped in the conversation.

Even in illness, Jim remained unmistakably Jim. He shushed people like a librarian right to the very end, complained loudly because honestly it completed him as a person, and finished his final days enjoying handmade lemon sorbet from Gelatony (Triple A Convenience, Jubilee Rd, Halifax NS) — one of his favourite treats.

More than anything, Jim was deeply kind. Quietly kind. The kind of man who showed up, helped, fixed things, carried things, fed people, made people laugh, and never needed recognition for any of it.

In his final days, he was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love, offers of help, messages, and support from family, friends, neighbours, military brothers and sisters, and the wider community. The family would like everyone to know how much that meant to him.

Jim leaves behind the love of his life and wife, Michelle; his children James, Morgan, Jade, and Courtney; bonus children Lawrence and Aidan; his beloved grandchildren; his parents Sherry and Sandy; biological father Archie Roach; brothers Calvin and Jason, who he grew up alongside; and siblings he was grateful to connect with later in life after visiting Archie in Ontario — brothers Derek and Chris, and sisters Donna and Emily.

The family would also like to extend heartfelt thanks to Martha Ferguson, Dr Anna Roebuck, the staff at Lillian Fraser Memorial Hospital, and the staff at Amherst Hospital, for the care, compassion, and support shown to Jim and his family throughout this journey.

In true Jim fashion, there will be no formal service because he specifically requested people not stand around being miserable. Instead, the family plans to celebrate his life this August in Wentworth during what was originally meant to be an anniversary celebration.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Clarence Farm Services to help feed and care for the horses Jim loved dearly. Or, better yet, do something kind for someone else. Pay for a coffee. Help a neighbour. Feed an animal. Check on a friend. Tell a ridiculous story. Make somebody laugh. Jim would've preferred that anyway.

One final request Jim felt strongly about:

Please go get screened. Early screening and earlier support for families can save lives. Jim hoped that the knowledge gained through his journey might help someone else have more time with the people they love.

And if there's mud where he ended up, everyone can rest easy knowing he's probably happy.

Yesterday's history, tomorrow's a mystery, so LIVE today!