David's Eulogy

I want to start with a poem entitled “the Dash” from Linda Ellis.  

(Which I have modified slightly to fit my Dad)

I read of a reverend who stood to speak
at the funeral of his friend.
He referred to the dates on his tombstone
from the beginning...to the end.

He noted that first came the date of his birth
and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that he spent alive on earth…
and now only those who loved him
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard…
are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
(You could be at "dash mid-range.")

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special "dash"
might only last a little while.

So when your eulogy is being read
with your life's actions to rehash,
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent your "dash?"

I stand before you today to speak about my Father’s Dash – because I, like everyone in this room, am very proud about that Dash. 

Today all of us in this room proclaim our love; we help the healing process; and we share the sadness, the laughter, the joys, and the tears of my father’s life.

The happiest day of my life came on May 1, 1990.  Holding my newborn son in my hands and feeling the emotions of being a father was truly a life changing experience on that day.  I can only imagine that my father felt the same way on the day he held me, my brothers and my sisters for the very first time.

The saddest day of my life came 12 years later – last Sunday.

As difficult as it is for us to say goodbye, I am sure it was difficult for Dad last Sunday as well – because he loved his family very much.  I know I wasn’t ready to say goodbye!

My dad was a story teller and those who spoke with him know he was awful proud of his family.  Many of you heard a story or two about his children and his grandchildren.   My dad had a lot of friends - I suspect that Dad is busy saying hello to many of them right now and I am sure he is busy telling stories and bragging about us.  I suspect that Dad is busy taking over the kitchen right now – planning the next meal and telling everyone how it needs to be done.

My father loved to argue.  You see, he was always right!  Often times these discussions would include the phrase “Well Dave, you’re probably right” but they would often end with the phrase “well, you’ll just have to put that on my gravestone.”  For the last four days I have tried to think of what those phrases were but I cannot, I cannot think of them because the only phrase I want to put on that gravestone is I LOVE YOU and I MISS YOU.

I talked to my Dad last Sunday and I made a promise to my Dad that I would make him proud of me and proud of his grandchildren.  I am going to work on my dash and as a father I am going to work on my children’s dash knowing that it is my mother and my father who will be guiding me.

I need to talk about my mother – because like all of us, she also has a dash.  I have been very proud of my mother this past week; she has been standing like a tall oak in a strong wind, amazing me under the circumstances.  But when a tree loses a large branch in the wind, the part of the tree that remains must become stronger to support the balance of the tree.  Our family is like that tree which lost a branch; we are gaining strength to hold up the tree that is left behind.

This past week our family experienced an epidemic – a disease called "death in the family".  The symptoms are loss of a loved one, followed by loss of sleep, loss of appetite, headaches, heartaches, tears and misery.   The only know cure for this disease is time, family, friends, understanding and love.

Christmas, Easter, Holidays, Birthdays and Anniversaries will never be the same.  They cannot be the same because Dad is NOT here.  As a family we will have to make them better.  As a family we will make them better.  We will never forget Dad.

I know my father touched many people.  But since my dad loved fishing so much and since he loved story telling, I guess I will close by talking about the greatest fishing story of all - “the one that got away – my Father”.

Rest in Peace Dad – I truly Love You.