Seeing as many of you were unable to come to my dad's memorial service, I thought I would share a few photos of him with you
Look how much happier everyone looks now that I have been born! Look at our fabulous short haircuts!
Ah yes, the Eighties were an ugly time for hair...and eyeglasses for that matter. I do believe that is a Guess jean jacket though. This is outside my apartment in college. This is how I remember my dad best. Smiling and always giving me a hug that was just this short of painful. I'm pretty sure he bought me some groceries before he left town. Beer too.
Here is my dad with Brenna. I can't believe he's repotting that plant on the carpet! He was a notorious neat nick. I never would have gotten away with that when I was a kid. But for his princess granddaughter...anything!!
This was taken in my parent's place in Galena. We were just about to leave for my wedding to Tony. However, my dad was having a very important conversation with Brenna and we were a little late.
This is Dad with Bronte. At this point he was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. I wish Bronte had known him then. All her memories of Grampa are of the late stages. He always loved my kids though, even when he didn't know exactly who they were.
I know, it's hard to believe I was in a sorority. Don't worry, they wised up after a year and kicked me out. But they didn't kick me out until my dad was named Dad of the Year because of an essay I wrote about him. He was so surprised! I am glad I got the opportunity to let him know how much I thought of him. Even though he only got that lame Burger King crown and some kind of a statue, I know he was touched.
This is at my wedding to Tony. Dad was starting to show signs of Alzheimer's then, but not a whole lot. He had so much fun at the reception. AND, look at my fabulous shoes! Planning Dad's memorial service was quite an undertaking. Pastor Morris (my buddy Michael) had a lot of ideas and things he had done before, all of which I nixed. I wanted very specific hymns, I wanted the Bible passages I wanted (Michael suggested talking about Moses and how God kept his promises to him. I said, "Didn't Moses get only to SEE the promised land, but not ACTUALLY GET THERE? Hmmm...") and I had a whole service mapped out. Michael just let me go with it.
The service opened with my friend Nancy singing "Untitled Hymn (Come To Jesus)" and she was fantastic! I thought it would make me cry, but the love Nancy has for my family and her unwavering faith in Jesus made it so joyful. That set the tone. The whole rest of the service was just a joyous remembrance of my dad. Bronte read the 23rd Psalm and remembered to keep eye contact with the crowd. It was great. People stood up and remembered my dad with funny stories. Michael delivered a wonderfully uplifting sermon. Brenna sang "How Great Thou Art" after my eulogy and she made everyone smile and cry a little too.
Speaking of the eulogy...here it is: (Thanks to John Eaton for calling me just when I needed it and giving me the strength to get through it.)
Although I really have no fear of public speaking, I was a little nervous about getting up here today. The past week or so has been so difficult and I just didn’t know where to start with my memories about Dad. I didn’t want to get up here and break down or not make any sense because to eulogize one’s father is such a daunting task. Then I was reminded that this is an HONOR. It is an honor to be able to speak for my father. It is an honor to be able to tell you my memories of this wonderful man. It is an honor to share my father with you.
My father was a hard man to dislike. He had a story for every situation. He enjoyed every new experience, whether it was a musical downtown or ice fishing on Crystal Lake. Yes, he was opinionated. I recall hearing the phrase, “Well, you can do it my way or the wrong way,” more than once. Some might see that as arrogance, but I always saw it as confidence…and occasionally as an opportunity to prove him wrong. Dad constantly challenged me to do my best. I don’t think that he ever thought there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do if I just put my mind to it. He was never satisfied with taking the easy way out. Another of his famous phrases was, “anything worth doing is worth doing right.” As a kid I thought he was just impossible to please at times, but I am grateful every day that Dad had the confidence in me to strive for the best I could do. He always made me feel like I could do anything if I were determined. What greater gift to give a child? Although it would be easy to say that Dad pushed me, I would rather have the memory of his confidence in me than memories of someone who didn’t think I could ever amount to anything.
I remember my dad’s love of puzzles. He and my mother would do the Jumble in the newspaper everyday. They didn’t exactly do it together, but they did it simultaneously to see who could finish first. Also, I don’t believe a Sunday ever went by that he didn’t do the crossword puzzle in the Chicago Tribune. The funny thing is, my dad was allergic to newsprint. So, for the hour or so that he would work on the puzzle he would sneeze. Constantly. Dad liked to do the crossword puzzle alone. He didn’t share or ask for help ever, he liked to do it independently. I can only remember one exception to this; when Brenna was a little baby, she got a cold. Like any new mother, I panicked and didn’t sleep because she wasn’t sleeping and when she was sleeping I was watching her to be sure she didn’t STOP breathing. So, needless to say, I was exhausted. On the third day of Brenna’s cold, I was so tired I went over to my parent’s house and asked if they could just watch Brenna so I could rest for an hour. When I woke up from my nap, my mom was asleep on a blanket on the floor with Brenna asleep beside her and my dad was sitting in a chair with a crossword puzzle watching them both to make sure they didn’t STOP breathing. My dad saw that I was awake and came and sat by me on the couch. He looked at me and looked at my daughter, who he adored, and said, “Want to do my puzzle with me?” Honestly, I was so tired, all I wanted to do was sleep while Brenna was asleep, but he had never asked me (or anyone, to my knowledge) to do a crossword with him. So we sat there whispering about crossword puzzle clues and solving strategies until Brenna woke up.
Dad also loved what I always considered “old” movies, but truthfully were just the movies from his youth. Back in the days before cable television, all of the old movies were on Channel 9, but usually not during prime time. No, the movies my dad loved were on at midnight or 1:00 a.m. Well, that didn’t stop my dad from watching them, or from wanting to share them with me. I recall many a night being awakened at 11:55 p.m. so he and I could watch the Marx Brothers and eat popcorn. He and I would stay up and laugh and laugh. I don’t think my mother ever understood…
The dad of my childhood was someone who taught me how to keep a baseball scorecard and instilled my love of Cubs baseball by taking me to games and patiently explaining every aspect of the game to me. He also encouraged me to play sports, particularly softball. He would practice with me out in the backyard for hours so I wouldn’t be afraid of a sharply hit line drive. (You see, I wanted to play short-stop because my favorite Cub when I was 9 years old was Ivan DeJesus, the short-stop). However, no matter how many pitches he threw me in the backyard, Dad never could get me to hit the ball very well. I figured I could walk more than 50% of the time if I just didn’t swing at all, so I took my chances on a walk rather than try to hit. I was always afraid I’d hit a shallow pop fly and be humiliated. So, I just didn’t swing. That made Dad crazy, so he decided to become an umpire in my softball league. He was a very fair umpire too, except when it came to me. No matter where the pitches were when I was batting my dad called them strikes. He figured I would get angry enough at him for calling everything a strike that I was bound to take a swing eventually. I don’t recall how many games went by before I got sick of striking out and started hitting the ball.
Although it may not seem like it, my Dad was a very sensitive and gentle man. When I was in 4th grade, my parents bought me a dog; ToTo. I loved that dog. Toto was with me when I learned to drive, she was around for my first date and she saw me off to college and slept in my bed every time I came home. But, we all know that dogs don’t live forever. When my parents had to make the decision to put that dog to sleep, I was firmly entrenched in college life. I knew she was old and sick. The day my folks put her to sleep, they got in their car and drove out to University of Iowa so that they could tell me in person. They stayed all weekend and watched me cry and made sure I was okay before they left. This was not unexpected news, but my Dad knew that it would be devastating if I was alone. The presence of my Dad, a fierce dog lover, that weekend is something I will never forget.
Dad’s sarcasm is something that many of my friends recall about him. (Luckily I did not inherit that trait...) I know that many of my friends were unsure about how he felt about them upon meeting him because he had a sharp wit that made you wonder how he really felt. I know that he respected those who could give it right back to him.
Dad’s love for my mother and his joy at being able to spend his days with her made me believe that true love is not just a myth. I recall coming home to find them dancing in the family room with Frank Sinatra crooning from the stereo. I remember watching them walk down the streets of Galena hand in hand for many years. Neither of them ever left the house without a kiss and an “I love you.” The love they had for each other inspires me to this very day to be a better person and to show those that I love how I feel every day.
As Alzheimer’s robbed my father of his memory it also allowed me the gift of seeing him at his core. Although Dad didn’t know who I was near the end he always knew that I was someone who loved him. He enjoyed his grandchildren every time he saw them. He rejoiced in their attention and love. Alzheimer’s took my dad’s memory, but it didn’t touch his love.
Even though it is easy to wonder at God’s plan at a time like this, I am comforted by the words of Proverbs chapter 3.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him; and He will make your paths straight.” I know that my Dad has gotten the Ultimate promotion and that he is sitting at the right hand side of God.
I will miss my father every day. If I could see him one more time I would thank him for making me the person that I am, for making me the parent that I am. I am proud to be his daughter and I KNOW that he was proud to call me his daughter.
