David Wimett Credit: Courtesy David Wimett’s last days were filled with family, snuggles with his grandkids, bright blue skies, starry nights, funny stories, hunting anecdotes and tearful goodbyes. His departure from this life on September 16, 2026, was just as he lived in it — tranquil, ste adfastly brave and filled with unconditional love. David (or Dave, as many of you know him) was raised in Bristol, Vt., son of Dottie Sain and Bud Wimett, and a proud son of his native state. He grew up hunting and fishing in the shadow of Elephant Mountain and knew every nook and cranny of the fields, rivers and forests that adorned his beloved landscape. He equally adored and tormented his three younger siblings, Wendy, Stacey and Brian; and stepbrothers, Rick, Kevin and Kyle. His mischievous smile and expressive green eyes won the hearts of his school peers, and he seemed to have a friendship with just about everyone in Addison County. At 16, David met his soulmate, Beth, and they walked side by side through thick and thin ever since — including the difficult periods of being apart during his deployments as a U.S. Navy antisubmarine warfare operator and rescue wet swimmer early in their marriage. The home they created together in Brandon was a haven — a handmade sanctuary that became the gathering place for so many. Together they created a life of patience, tenacity, growth, abundance and, above all else — love. Their devotion to one another was at the heart of it all. They grew luscious gardens and cooked spectacular food. There was always music playing, someone visiting, some disastrous situation being resolved and ALWAYS so much joy. David was an incredible father to his four children, Jake, Jess, Dan and Ben. As a family they overcame difficulties and embraced successes with trademark authenticity and candor, and his children and their spouses, Mindi and Jessica, are living tributes to his dedication. Simply put, they all would do anything to honor their beloved dad. David kept his lawn tidy and his woodpile stacked neatly. He always had hard candy in his pockets and honey in his tea. His career as a car salesman singlehandedly changed thousands of people’s stigmas against the trade. He was unfailingly fair, oftentimes stacking the deck against himself. Many of you reading this know this firsthand. Wimett Trading Company stickers adorn many of your vehicles, a club of people who came to Dave’s little dealership in Leicester knowing you’d be treated as a friend. As a grandfather, David truly came alive. His biological brood included Isaac, Amaya, Sadie and Jacob Benjamin, but he extended those big Paaka/Papa arms around so many others. His children and grandchildren happily shared him with so many. The boundlessness of his spirit and the capacity of his heart were big enough to hold everyone in a way that made each one of us feel special and safe. Dave loved sunrises over frosty fields and starting a wood fire on a cold morning. He loved hunting with his boys and Josh (who was always more than a nephew) and going to deer camp. He was the best snuggler around, always putting a grandkid to sleep with the steadiness of his heartbeat. He always sang along to music and never got the words right. He loved grilling meat and making sauces, picking bouquets for Beth, making lists on yellow paper, holding hands with his wife, the perfect cast, vacations in Eleuthera, a well-deserved drink, and a celebration of any kind. David’s battle with ALS was long, frustrating, frightening and tragic. But this, too, he met with his trademark grace and equanimity. As Robert Frost wrote, “The best way out is always through.” Not once did he feel bad for himself. With Beth unwaveringly by his side, he faced this disease with his head held high and his spirit unbroken. There will be a celebration of David’s life on a date yet to be determined. But for now, as we enter his favorite season in his most beloved of places, we ask that you all think of your friend Dave with a smile in your heart, remembering his voice saying one of his perfectly timed Vermontisms … “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.” The post Obituary: David Wimett, 1959-2026 appeared first on Seven Days. ...read more read less