On the Death of My Father

Then I heard a voice from heaven say, “Write this: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.” “Yes,” says the Spirit, “they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them.” (Revelation 14:13)

My father passed away early Sunday evening, February 16, 2014. Even as I write these words, it seems somehow surreal to me that he is finally gone. This is the man who seemingly made a career out of cheating death. On numerous occasions throughout his 82 years on this earth, he stared death in the face and laughed. That's what my father did best - he laughed. He had a very hard life, but he always used humor to diffuse tension, put others at ease, or to numb his own pain. Good, bad or indifferent, I inherited that wit of his. I am rarely at a loss for a witty remark or a clever comeback, although there are times when my attempts at humor are not necessarily appreciated (that's another topic for another post). Even on his deathbed, hours before he would take his last breath, my father was still cracking jokes.

My father was largely uneducated, having only completed the 8th grade (I just learned at his funeral that he couldn't complete the 9th grade because his rural school burned down and they never rebuilt it). But he was an incredibly intelligent man. He read everything he could get his hands on, and absorbed information like a sponge. One of his favorite pastimes was working crossword puzzles - the harder the better. He stayed current on a wide variety of topics and was never at a loss for something to talk about. Oddly enough, his natural inclination for intelligence did not translate to a desire to see his children educated. After all, if he was able to get by on 8 years of schooling, surely we had no need for anything after high school.

As smart as my father was, he severely lacked business acumen. In fact, most of his business ventures ended up failing. But somehow he was able to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. What my dad lacked in business smarts, he made up for in sheer determination to be a good provider for his family. I will never really know just how hard he must have worked all those years to make sure we were comfortable. Unfortunately, the trade-off was never having a strong father-son bond with his kids, especially me and my younger brother; my three older brothers were born in rapid succession and had the benefit of a younger, healthier father who still had time to teach them how to ride bikes and hunt and fish and throw a ball. My father was 30 by the time I was born, and the weight of his family responsibilities were already heavy upon him. Most of my childhood memories of my father consist of him sleeping (he worked nights more often than not). My brothers had to teach me how to ride a bike. I never learned how to hunt or fish, and I still can't throw a ball to save my life.

My father loved the Lord, and he and my mother raised us with a healthy respect for the Christian faith. We were raised in an ultra-conservative church (I liken it more to a cult), but my parents leaned more toward the center. They didn't buy into a lot of the church's rules and regulations, but they put on a good show to keep the peace. My parents were far from perfect, and their parenting skills were uneven and unpredictable. But they did the best they could with what they had to work with. They instilled in us the value of hard work, integrity, honesty, and the worth of all people. My parents never exhibited any signs of racism, even though we were entrenched in a very "white" culture. They were equally comfortable around whites and non-whites, something that has stuck with me through the years. I have always embraced racial and ethnic diversity, thanks in part to my parents' ability to be color-blind.

Part of my father's lack of success in business was due partly to naivete and partly to placing too much trust in people who never earned it. More than once he lost everything to unscrupulous men who took advantage of my father's trusting nature. But God is good, and He always provided for our family. In spite of numerous financial setbacks over the years, my father was never tight-fisted. He had a spirit of generosity that permeated everything he did. Even though we never had much, no one ever left our table hungry, and my father literally gave the shirt off is back to anyone who needed it. My father was just as liberal with his time. He was never too busy to invest a minute or two in anyone who crossed his path. At his funeral, I was amazed at the dozens of people who commented how much he had meant to them and how he had touched their lives, just by being a friend. I honestly believe that my father never had an enemy.

As my father aged, and his health began to decline, he finally accepted his own mortality. In the last few years, after yet another brush with death, he started spending a lot of time telling me and my brothers how much he loved us. He started hugging me every time I went to visit him. Sadly, such physical and verbal displays of affection were missing when I was growing up. I am sure that my father knew that he would go to his grave with many regrets, but not telling his family how much he loved and cared for us wasn't going to be one of them.

As I sifted through a lifetime of possessions at my parents' house after the funeral last weekend, I uncovered an abundance of evidence of my father's love and devotion to my mother. They would have celebrated their 59th wedding anniversary this coming May. My parents always acted as if they merely tolerated each other, but it was just how they interacted (think Archie and Edith Bunker). I honestly believe that my father only hung on to life as long as he did, long after his body refused to cooperate, because of his love and concern for my mother. If he could have done so, he would have outlived my mother just so she would never have to spend a day without him. A love and devotion like that doesn't come along every day.

There are many other things I could say about my father, some too private to share, others that need more time to process. As I stated during his funeral while reading from his obituary, you can't sum up a person's life in a few paragraphs. Last August, I wrote a post about honoring our parents. Tonight, this is my tribute to my father. In spite of his faults and shortcomings, he was a pretty good dad.

Rest in peace, Dad. You earned it.

Your son,

David