Final Word

We are still here up at our home-away-from-home in MN for a few more days, wrapping up affairs and visiting with family. Dad's funeral was on July 3rd, and now we're busy cleaning out his house and taking care of paperwork. None of it is fun, but all needs to be done.

In the meantime, I wanted to post the words that I spoke at my dad's funeral. I did manage to say everything without totally breaking down, but I did crack a few times.

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We are here today to celebrate Rod's life and what he meant to each and every one of us. This isn't an easy thing for any of us to do, but as Rod's daughter, it feels next to impossible. Writing dad's obituary and hearing his life summed up into a group of words doesn’t feel like it could possibly capture what Dad’s life meant to so many people. There really aren’t enough words in the whole English language that could express how much Dad meant to so many people.

Dad had such a deep and caring soul that touched so many people in different ways. He was a loving and caring dad to me and Craig, "papa" to his grandchildren, and uncle Rod to his neices. He was also a deeply caring and loving son to his mother, who is also here with us today. I've had so many people share with me this past week examples and stories of his constant generosity and how he would always drop everything on a moment’s notice if anyone had a need he could help with. He was such a close special friend to many people that he spent his days with and I've heard over and over again how so many people have a hole left in their hearts after losing Rod. I of course am one of them.

The last conversation I had with dad was on Father’s Day this year, just a few days before he suddenly and unexpectedly passed away. We only spoke for about 10 minutes because he grew tired easily, and honestly I don’t remember the details of our conversation. As usual, I told him the latest and funniest stories about the kids, since I was hoping to take his mind off his suffering and have a few laughs. Of course, I’ve known for the last few months that each conversation we had could potentially be our last – and isn’t that really the case with everyone in our life? But I really did not expect that would be the last time I would hear his voice alive.

So it got me thinking… if I had really known for sure that that conversation would be our last, would’ve I said something different? Would’ve I come up with more profound and final words?

No, I don’t think so.

The best memories, in fact most of the memories I have with my dad, had nothing to do with the words that were said between us. As a child, I was always happy just to have him in the same room with me as I watched old re-run Bugs Bunny cartoons. We kids could always count on dad to sit and laugh right along with us at the Road Runner and Daffy Duck antics. If we were lucky, he might tell us stories from his childhood how he would watch not only the cartoons we were watching on television, but westerns like the Lone Ranger and Gunsmoke, or other kids’ shows like Howdy Doody. But mostly just being a dad who would sit with us kids and laugh at old cartoons is a memory I’ll always have with me cherish.

Dad loved to drive and he and I took many road trips together on holidays when we’d go to visit our family on the other side of the state. Again, I don’t remember any deep or profound conversations that we had while driving, but I do remember all the fun that we would have. When I was little, it would make me laugh when he drove over the “rumble strips” while coming to a stop-sign, so after crossing the busy intersection, dad would porously drive on the wrong side of the road to hit more rumble strips, just to get me to laugh some more! And lets not forget all the singing we did along to the Oldies station. As we drove across the state, he always knew exactly which cites had Oldies stations and where to tune into them! Because of dad, I was the only kid in High School who could sing along to every Buddy Holly or Righteous Brothers melody.
When I was in college, I spent half a year studying abroad in China. It was very difficult at the time to try to contact home by telephone, so I was thrilled when I got letters from home from dad. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s the only time in my life he ever wrote something to me. I searched and searched this week to find the letters that he wrote to me, but I couldn't find them; however, I don't need them since I remember exactly what he wrote to me? Why? Because dad sent a letter to me across the world that cost several dollars and took two weeks to arrive, and consisted of exactly three sentences!

"I miss you. The weather here is nice. I hope you're having fun and come home soon. Love, Dad. "

I'm sure many people in this room today could easily come up with stories about how dad made them laugh or how generous he could be in times of need.

One thing that really sticks out in most of our minds about dad is that he wouldn't want us all somber and sad remembering him. Dad had a light heart even in the worst of times, and always knew how to lighten the mood of any situation. Unlike myself, dad was a man a few words, and he wanted people to be happy and comfortable around him, so he joked around and usually stayed away from the serious.

As for me, the greatest legacy that dad left with me was the simplicity of the love in our relationship. There were no complex, unsaid feelings between us, so even if he left us suddenly, I'm not left wth "if I had only said" regrets. Our conversation ended with us each telling each other "I love you". I’ve tried to express some words to explain our relationship, but I think I could best sum it up simply -

"Dad, I miss you. The weather here is nice. I hope you're having fun. Love, Tina."