(Note: This is the talk I gave at Dad's funeral. He had all six of his kids speak, standing side-by-side at the podium.)
My Father was always a quiet
person, never wanting a lot of attention and never wanting people to know when
he was struggling. As visitors would stop by the last few weeks, he would
always, in his humble way, try to deflect attention from himself by insisting
to his guests that he was not special, and only attracted this attention
because of his disease.
Dad, to the people here, to
your children-- to me, you were special. My father is my hero because his
primary concern was for the welfare of others, never for himself, and he truly
loved his children.
1) Dad’s primary concern was
always for the welfare of others, and never for himself.
When I locked my keys in the
trunk at BYU, he would drop everything and come rescue me. When I crashed into
garage doors, trees, curbs, and even rolled a car, Dad was always the first one
there to rescue me. – More concerned about me than the property damage. (Lucky
for me.)
He was always the first to
volunteer for things in church. My first DI service experiences, cannery
experiences, and church cleaning experiences were all with him.
Dad owned a four-plex in West
Valley for a long time. He would spend hours and hours preparing those
apartments to be rented. Sometimes, to our amazement, people wouldn’t pay rent.
When a pattern emerged, some of us would want justice served, and people
evicted. My dad was the ever merciful one, forgiving debts and giving people
opportunities to make things right. The money was never his primary concern,
but making sure that people were okay was. Sometimes people would take
advantage of him, but that never changed his love for people and the compassion
of his heart.
A few years ago, several of
my friends caught Lance Armstrong fever, and decided to stage their own
tour-de-France event. Their course was from West Valley to my house here in
North Salt Lake, which in theory sounds good. They began their trek early one
morning, and things were going well until they hit the industrial part of North
Salt Lake, with it’s oil refineries. As they huffed and puffed through that
part of town, the smell started to make them a little sick to the stomach and
dizzy. Then they hit the hill. When they finally got to my house, they were all
exhausted and sick. It was my dad, who I’m sure didn’t know most of them, who
fed them, and helped nurse them back to health for their 20 mile trek home.
2) He loved his children, and he was always there
for us.
One of the things that gave
Dad his greatest satisfaction was building our house here at Eaglewood. In preparation
for the move, I switched schools. For me, the adjustment was rough—more than I
thought I could bear. It was especially hard for me at lunch time because I
came from a circle of close friends, but when I switched schools, I felt I was
all by myself. At a time where I was lonelier than I had ever been, he could
have told me to tough it out. He could have told me he was too busy building a
house to worry about this. He could have ignored my problem No. Instead, with
empathy –with love and compassion for me, he would carve time out of his busy
construction schedule to take me to lunch. As the clock approached noon, I
would wait for Dad’s attractive old red truck to pull into the parking lot.
Together, for almost an hour everyday, we would eat our sack lunches packed by
mom and simply talk to each other. I think that will always be my most
cherished memory of my father.
After Dad was diagnosed with
cancer 5 years ago, he would pray that he could be there for some of the big
occasions in our lives. He wanted to be here to see Crystals first child, Bryn
born, then to see Gavin born, then to see Troy and Kajsa have their first son,
Another one of those occasions he hoped and prayed to be there for was to be at
the airport to see me return from my mission. I will forever be grateful to the
Lord for his tender mercy in allowing Dad to be there to see me come home, and
the chance I had to spend some quality time with my Father before his passing.
His last time at church was
several weeks ago. I’m sure he was tired, and in pain, but without complaining
he came to hear me speak and report on my mission. He only had the strength to
stay through my talk, but that gesture meant everything to me.
Dad always told us that if we
remembered one thing about him, it was to know that he loved his children. Dad,
we know you loved us, and we will always love you too.
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