A Man of Service

My Father passed away on February 24th, 2019 at the age of eighty-two. We recently had a memorial service for him on October 5th, 2019: the day before his birthday. 

Due to my depression, I was unable to travel to attend the service. 

Below are the words I asked to have read at the Memorial:

First, I want to thank all of you for taking the time to come and honor my Father. For whatever part you played in his life and whatever part he played in yours, I am grateful that you are here today.

Second, it is with the greatest sorrow that I am unable to join you in person. As many of you know, I suffer with Bipolar Disorder: a mental illness that is characterized by manic highs and crippling depressions. Unfortunately, I am currently in the grip of one of these depressions, coupled with anxiety, that barely allows me to leave home let alone travel across the country.

Last, though my words cannot replace my presence, they can embody my spirit and that is what I share with you today. I am here with you and I am smiling when I see the love in each of your eyes for this special man; a man gone too soon: a man I am proud to call my Father.

The Title of this Eulogy is: A Man of Service

As an only daughter, I had the unique opportunity to develop a close and rare relationship with my Dad. When he was in college I used to sit in his lap and study right along with him. In High School he offered me my first job in a company he had helped to start. We ended up working together for 15 years. More often than not we even commuted to work together. I’d like to say our years working together were the epitome of harmony but we had our moments: I once spent an entire weekend trying to reconcile a bank statement that was one penny out of balance. I know you can all imagine the look he had on his face as he slowly shook his head; but he let me do it anyway. And when I finally found that errant penny and jumped about on my desk dancing, wildly, he shook his head again but this time with the slightest hint of a smile. I eventually learned what I did was wasteful, silly and pig-headed and I learned it all from a look and a tiny shake of the head.

And that was the essence of how he served and how he taught. It was not always with words but more often with action. And not the fiery, in your face type of action but the quiet, steady, calming action that can only come from a place of love.

In his life he was many things: a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a Marine, a college graduate, a race car pit crew boss, a business owner, a private pilot, a Fema/SBA Inspector, a painter and many more things. In each of these roles I believe he was the happiest when he was serving. It was as natural to him as breathing.

In later years, when we did not see each other as much: the distance mattered little. I knew he was always there: my rock. In 2012, when I tried to take my own life and ended up in a psychiatric ward 3,000 miles away from him the first words that he spoke to me by phone as I lay in a hospital bed were: “Do you want me to fly out there?” Notice he did not say, “I’m flying out there.” That wasn’t his way. He was always respectful. There was no lecture. There was no, “How could you do such a stupid thing?” There was only, “How can I help?” A simple question that told me all I needed to know about how much he loved me without judgment or conditions. 

I was fortunate to take many driving trips with him around the West and even across the country. These are the memories I treasure the most. Sometimes we would talk and laugh like magpies about every subject under the sun and sometimes there would be complete silence. In those quiet times were when we shared the feelings that required no words and evoked the countless times over so many years when we looked into each other’s eyes and expressed our love as one soul to another.

After so many years of hard work, challenges, set-backs and victories I am so grateful that these last years of my Dad’s life have been one’s of peace, friendships, family, travel and above all the love that he shared with Ellen. I thank each one of you that made these final years so joyful for him.

Writing this eulogy has been one of the hardest things I have ever had to do because I thought I was saying good-bye forever to someone who was such an instrumental part of every year of my life. But thinking about this over the last few months I have come to realize that this is not a good-bye at all because my Dad will live in my heart every day for the rest of my life: everything he taught me and every ounce of love he gave to me.

Recently, I dreamed that my Dad and I were flying around in a transparent airplane. We could see everything above us and everything below us as we whisked along through the clouds together. It was exhilarating. I turned to look at him and I could see the broad smile on his face and the twinkle in his eyes. He was truly free and he was loving every minute of it.

Fly on, “thou good and faithful servant.” I will love you always.

Thank You.