A Tribute to Daddy

My father died a few years ago of complications related to Alzheimer's Disease. He had remarried since my mother's death and was living away from the place we all called home. A memorial service was conducted at their local church, officiated by the preacher at the time who barely knew my father. This gentleman also followed us to our home to officiate the funeral and burial there.

Now I am a firm believer that funerals should celebrate the life of the individual and ABSOLUTELY not be about saving the souls of the guests gathered to remember them. Unfortunately, the memorial service was clearly the latter. In defense of the gentleman preacher who officiated, he had little to draw on in speaking about my father. As I said, he barely knew Daddy before the onset of the disease.

On the drive home from the memorial service, I decided that "someone" had to speak besides this guy. Someone had to say all of the things about Daddy that needed to be said. Someone needed to make his life "real" to those who never really got to know him....particularly the preacher. After failing to solicit a willing speaker, I decided that the someone would be me. So, I rose early before the service, sat by the pool (I have vivid memories of Daddy at our pool) and wrote...and re-wrote, and wrote some more. The following is the last gift I gave to my Daddy.

For Daddy

My brothers and I now live scattered across the south. Though we talk often, we don't see each other as much as we would like. Being together over the past several days, we've enjoyed sharing funny stories and special memories of growing up the children of  W.H. and Evelyn.

I've listened to my brothers stories of living in Calloway as "mill children"; of Daddy's strong discipline when you hide in a ditch and throw things at cars; of his pride in helping to build Trinity Lutheran Church; of his love of fishing; and of his welcoming of a baby girl who needed a home. I've shared stories about the heartache in his eyes when I was a teenager and he told me that he couldn't afford to give me the $45.00 per week allowance that I was used to getting. Because he was on strike and that was about all he was bringing home; of the way he insisted that being a girl wouldn't mean being helpless, so he taught me to add oil, change a tire, fix the plumbing and stand up for myself.

My brothers and I also talked about character traits that we inherited from Dad. They defined him. So, I'd like to share a few of them with you today.

1. School is at least 16 years. Daddy was the oldest child in his family. After the death of his mother, he quit grammar school to care for his siblings. He saw to it that they were educated and provided for. He would not have his children struggle in life. so, if you were his child, you just knew that a formal education was not optional - it was expected. Daddy was very proud to tell almost everyone he met " I have four children and they are all college graduates."

2. Where there's a will there's a way. Daddy gave us tenacity. If the screen door wouldn't close correctly, you simply spent all day working on it with a hammer and duct tape until it did. If you needed or wanted something you just picked-up side jobs to pay for it.

3. Practicality - Why install a more powerful air conditioner when you can put the sprinkler on the roof to cool the house? Why spend money at the body shop when clear fingernail polish will keep the scratch on the car from rusting?

4. A solid work ethic - Whether his task was to mop the floor or lead a team of mill workers. Daddy did it on time and to the best of his ability. Showing initiative and taking pride in his accomplishments.

Finally - unconditional love. No matter your faults, your continued mistakes, or your life choices, you had a home with Daddy, Uncle W.H., Mr. S. Family, friend, or stranger, if you met Evelyn and W.H. and you needed a leg up in life, you got it. In 39 years of marriage, I don't think they lived alone (together) for more than a few months. They opened their home to their aging parents, their siblings, nieces, nephews, friends, their children's friends and even perfect strangers...your place at their table being no less important than their own.

Even though we lost the Daddy we knew several years ago and now we've lost him in body as well, if you had the privilege of him touching your life, giving you a hand, a home, a shoulder, support. A piece of his unconditional love remains with you. And for however he touched you, all he would ask in return is that you, when life places you there, do the same for someone else.

When I think on Daddy's life and how he lived it, I think of Genesis 12:2...God speaking to Abraham said, "I will bless you, so that you may be a blessing to others."

Maybe Daddy was a blessing to you. He and his life were truly a blessing to me. If we can share this gift of unconditional love with our children, grandchildren and everyone we meet... he will live forever in our hearts.