You knew it was coming. I can't experience a death and not write about it. Fortunately, I don't need to write anything from scratch for this blog post - I'll just post the eulogy I wrote. My cousin Chris did an amazing job reading it for everyone at the funeral as I wasn't able to read it myself. I'm sharing for those of you that requested it and those that couldn't be there. #humbled
My dad Bob
was a man that illustrated great dedication to the things and people he loved.
Dad loved
Frosted Flakes, Snickers bars, spaghetti, fishing, gardening, John Wayne, his
animals, his work at Children’s Home and his family. He was extremely dedicated
to all of these things.
My dad
never did anything half way. He was always a go getter and a self-starter, a
project creator and finisher. You may not have known that you needed to build a
lean to for your pet rabbits early on a Saturday morning and move an acre of
horse fence before 10am, but he did and it was done efficiently and perfectly.
Dad
believed strongly in work before play. And he was a very hard worker. My dad
worked for the same company for 34 years. He loved his job. He believed in what
Children’s Home Society of Minnesota did for kids and families. But mostly he
liked the people he got to work with; he made lifelong friends at his job, as
did my mom and I. We are very grateful
for the role that Children’s Home played in our lives.
Dad loved
John Wayne movies. My mom, dad, Nate and I really enjoyed watching old Westerns
together, after the chores were done of course, and we would often bring up how
those guys had grit. You know who had grit? My dad. He knew since he was six
years old that he had Muscular Dystrophy and that didn’t stop him. He worked
physically hard every day that allowed him. Then he had stupid cancer and that
didn’t stop him. He wasn’t happy about it but it didn’t stop him. When people
would call to check on him he didn’t complain. In fact he normally didn’t want
to even talk about it; he wanted to know how YOU were and how your life was
going. And then he had some heart troubles and it couldn’t be fixed. Dad didn’t
stop. He slowed down. But he didn’t stop. Oh yes, my dad had just as much grit
as any of those cowboys…probably more.
We have
to talk about his tomato plants. All plants, really. Every winter he would go
through his seed books and decide what to order and what he was going to plant.
Evaluate which grew well the year before and what tasted the best in mom’s
spaghetti sauce. Then he would start his seeds and give them attention every
day, checking on their progress, making sure they had the best light and
correct amount of nourishment and water. Then when it was time my parents would
transplant them into the garden, care for them, harvest them and literally
enjoy the fruits of their labor. My dad was very dedicated to producing an
excellent crop. The best compliment you
could give him was to tell him how delicious the fruit and veggies he grew
were.
He did the
same with me. Bob was my step-dad, but I’ve always called him dad. He’s been my
dad since I was three. The story goes that the first time we met he bought me
an orange pop. I wouldn’t drink it. But eventually I warmed up to him. He was
my every day. We had inside jokes, we picked on my mom together – lovingly of
course -- and he called me his “Bug”. Like
his tomato plants he raised me up, just like his father had done before with
him and his brother and sisters. He checked
on me every day. Unlike his tomatoes I was a teenage girl for a few years, so
we’ll skip over that part of our relationship. When I moved away to college he
was nervous for me but knew I needed to learn some hard lessons on my own. He
was proud when I graduated from grad school and when I got married- this man of
very few words told me he was proud of me. That meant the world to me.
We knew not
to discuss politics but we could always talk fishing. Fishing was our bond,
along with quoting old movie lines. I’m so honored that he decided to be my
dad. He took very good care of my mom
and me. He taught both of us about the
value of hard work, the value of a dollar and to nurture the things we care
about most. He didn’t have to be my dad, but he was. I’m a lucky girl to get to
be something he was dedicated to.
Rest well Dad. We love you very
much. Jesus has you now and I’m so happy for that.
