Eulogy - 8/7/2023
One of the best ways to capture my father in a simple image is a scene from this past Father’s Day. The twins joined us at the nursing home to visit dad (I have video of this if you are interested in seeing it). It was a good night for him. He was responsive and engaged. We took him into the piano room of the nursing home and Charity broke out her guitar. The twin’s playlist largely consists of Taylor Swift songs, and I can’t say dad would normally be a big fan. Carrie Underwood, yes! Taylor Swift, not so much. But as their sweet voices echoed through the cold halls of that nursing home, dad broke into a smile and shouted out, “Praise Jesus!” That tells you who my dad was. Though his brain was broken by long life, his reflexive response to the beauty of that moment was to acknowledge what he believed to be its source. My dad really did see Jesus everywhere, especially when he saw his grandchildren, and certainly when he heard music, even if it was “Getaway Car” by Taylor Swift.
The memories of dad are too thick to simply offer here an anthology of them. We will all no doubt have our opportunities so share together in remembrance of dad, as we already have to some extent. I wanted instead to focus on the legacy of my father, the good and precious gifts he bestowed upon me, that I hope to give to my own children.
I’ll start with an easy one: dad was a foodie, and certainly passed that on.
Sondra reminded me that dad believed gravy should be one of the food groups. I certainly remember him saying things like that. My own kids will remember that we once had a discussion of various super-powers and which ones we would like to have. I said that I wanted to have the power of gravy. They were young and thought I was funny.
But it is true that dad’s love for gathering around the table and laughing with family and friends is something that we kids have preserved.
Dad also passed down a legacy of enduring love…
Mom and dad would have celebrated their 63rd anniversary this month. They were married at 20 and 19. My daughter Trinity just turned 19. What do you think about marriage at your current age, T?
The point is that mom and dad demonstrated that love is not a matter of the passions only. As Lewis put it: Love is an affair of the will, deliberately reinforced by habit, and sustained by the grace that both parties ask and receive from God.
Mom and dad (mostly mom) demonstrated that love is a matter of tolerance, longsuffering. Did you know there are flaws in men that even wives can’t fix? I saw mom try. Kids today speak much of tolerance, usually of the political variety. But you almost can’t take them seriously unless they have been married for few years. Deep tolerance of the flaws in another, and mutual grace, are forged in the crucible of marriage. I’m so grateful for the example of enduring love that my parents provided.
Dad also modelled for us the pursuit of learning…
Dad made many sacrifices of time as a young man in the Navy to earn his Bachelor’s and then Master’s degrees. He even did all the course work for a Ph.D. in Psychology. His children were inspired to seek out knowledge ourselves. Bob got a bachelors and then Master’s in Business Admin. Sondra took on the great challenge of earning the Juris Doctor degree and then went on to become a greatly decorated lawyer in San Diego. Not to be outdone, I went to school for a couple years too. Dad’s hunger for knowledge, his love of language, and his passion to grow intellectually certainly made a lasting mark on all of his children.
Dad passed down a legacy of humor…
My kids probably wish I wouldn’t carry on this family legacy, especially when one considers the quality (or lack thereof) of my humor. But dad taught me not to take myself too seriously. I was meant to take God seriously, take truth seriously, take my commitments seriously; but not life, not myself. There is way too much about ourselves and others to laugh about.
Dad’s brand of humor was definitely the art of sarcasm, mixed with general goofiness. I don’t even need to assess whether or not this has been passed down. All you need to do is listen to Bob’s kids or mine to know that it has in spectacular fashion.
My dad taught me what fatherly love looks like…
My dad was not a perfect man, and at times struggled to be his best to my siblings, but after some years immersed in Christian grace, he became a truly wonderful father to me. He was my disciplinarian, my guide, my counsellor, my interlocuter, my quarterback, my ski instructor, and greatest friend. Quality time came out of the abundance of time my dad consistently gave to me. He was an affectionate, gentle, encouraging, and deeply present protector and provider. I simply couldn’t have asked for a better dad! Can any higher praise be afforded a man? I only hope my kids will feel that I’m a good dad too; that I have carried on my dad’s legacy in this regard.
Finally, dad was a man of faith…
Many of the people in this room frankly don’t much understand dad’s faith. It is fairly normal today to find so many descendants of Christian parents whose life can only be characterized by indifference towards Christianity or a kind of oblivious default secularism. In my estimation, this often comes with a real lack of knowledge about what Christianity really is, and certainly without replacing it with anything of substance. Mom and Dad raised me in a distinctively Christian home. It was a deeply Christian world, and it gave meaning to my life.
In one sense the Christian belief my dad affirmed is so simple: He believed in an unbending moral universe, grounded in the character of God, expressed in the Bible, leaving us all exposed as deeply flawed. Dad chose at times, as we all do, to pay attention only to the flaws in others. I firmly believe that he grew in this respect over time and really did feel the full weight of his own sin and how it affected others. He believed that the only place to go with this discovery was to a God who had made a way of forgiveness. Doing so became a practiced reality in dad’s life, a continual return to grace, and it changed him over time. It softened him, humbled him, made him sensitive and sorrowful and created in him, especially in his final years, a peaceful confidence and sweetness that I think we all yearn for in this life.
But it was also obvious to dad that the most common sentiment we throw around at funerals is simply untrue. We always say of the loved and lost that they will “live on in our memories,” but even when we say it we know it isn’t true. Dad affirmed the resurrection of Christ as the only safeguard against simply dissolving away. And he didn’t affirm it as a kind of wishful thinking. It was a firm and confident conviction that enabled him to release his grip on this life with great hope and dignity.
Dad’s last days reminded me much of a beloved C.S. Lewis quote, and I will simply leave you with these words.
“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”
