My talk for my dad's funeral

(My dad died very unexpectedly last Saturday evening at home from a heart attack.  My two sisters and I went out as soon as we could and stayed the week with my mom.  The funeral was yesterday and my two sisters and mom spoke.  I just wanted to save my talk here as part of our family record.)

I can think of a lot better ways to get us all together than a funeral, but despite the circumstances that brought us here, I'm so happy to see so many familiar faces and to see a few of you I haven't seen in over 20 years.  What a blessing you've been to our family over the years, just knowing you're there in the background of our lives has been so comforting.

We want to thank you for all you've done for us this week, all the visits and calls, texts, food, meals, flowers, cards, help with our kids, and especially all the prayers.  There's nothing that could've prepared me for the outpouring of kindness we've witnessed.  With every card or phone call or gift my mom has teared up, just overwhelmed with how generous and supportive you've all been.  We have felt so comforted both because of the love you've shown us and because of all the prayers.  I know that is why it has gone so smoothly.

We have a small family and we just hadn't experienced this kind of thing first-hand up until now.  So it's all been new to us.  We haven't known how to proceed or what exactly to expect, but it has been a great, great week in a lot of ways.  It has been especially good to just be with my sisters and mom, to spend lots of time just talking and visiting and even shopping and cleaning, just enjoying everyday activities amid the necessary preparations.

I have no idea what a typical family's mourning time is like, but I'm sure we threw our friend at the mortuary off because we laughed and joked so much.  Probably not very reverent, but we could hardly help ourselves thinking how it would be if dad had been the making his own funeral arrangements.  Throughout the week we've laughed about dad and the way he'd do things, the jokes he'd make, his funny ways.

Obviously, he's been everywhere we've looked this week.  The smell of wood and fabric linger in his newly cleaned garage.  I couldn't help but think the sound of the garage door closing would bring him in to the house to say, "Well, my baby girl, come give your ol' dad a hug."  We handled what might be the world's puffiest coats as we went through his closet.  Cheryl and I even sang a couple of his old country songs he'd written when a friend was over visiting the other night.   It's all just so familiar, and we've felt like maybe he's just been at work.  It's just surreal thinking that he's not coming home.  We can't help but regret the future memories we would've had, the Father's Day cards he didn't get to read, the holidays he won't be around for.  Of course that makes me sad.  I also wish I'd done more to make his life easier, that I would've written and called more, you know how you wonder what more you could've done.  Probably normal to have a few regrets.  But at the same time, I really do feel he knew I loved him, and I never doubted his love for me ever.  He'd squeeze it into me every chance he got, and he never stopped holding my hand.  There isn't much stronger than a dad's love for his kids.  He loved all seven of his kids--so much.  He'd always show us the pictures of our four other siblings, he longed to be reunited with them.  He never ever stopped loving them, and that was probably his biggest heartache: that he couldn't be with them.  Until Cheri helped reunite us all just a few years ago, I can't think of anything that's made him as happy in his later years.

Like all of us, I know he of course had other regrets.  He talked a lot about wanting to take us girls to the zoo or the park so his daughters would have concrete outings to look back on.  But we all know that the best memories and the times we long to go back to are the regular, ordinary days.  We were making memories all along the way without ever giving it much thought.

We spent a lot of time with our dad in his upholstery shop playing office or lying on his workbench sipping soup made from a package when we were sick.  We'd drive up and down the hills of La Mesa dodging flying newspapers as he did his paper route.  We learned to rip down couches, and sometimes we'd even help move them.  He'd make us malts and pancakes and we'd laugh with tears rolling down our cheeks watching sit-coms of the 80s.  He'd serve us ice cream slices after cutting through the carton and made us BLTs every Thursday night with gobs of mayonnaise.  We'd feed him cherries and lay our heads on his chest.

We'd visit our cousins in Utah one week every summer but we'd never be able to leave until he changed the oil and stopped to fill up with gas less than a mile from our house.  He'd always buy a beef jerky and usually new sunglasses.  Most times when he'd be on vacation he'd buy himself a new pair of tennis shoes--a lot of times white--and a new pair of jeans.  Whenever he came to visit he'd take the kids to get tacos, he'd take long naps, watch old MacGyver re-runs with my boys, and lap up all our home cooking, requesting peach cobbler and cinnamon rolls, but happy with anything.  He was easy to please.

He never seemed encumbered by what other people thought.  He spoke to everyone, made small talk with every waitress or salesclerk we ever encountered.  We'd be so embarrassed as kids, and my mom usually kind of walked away.  But I find myself doing the same thing these days and talk to all sorts of people I meet in airports and stores, just like my dad.  It makes the world a little friendlier feeling, a little smaller, a little easier to navigate when we feel connected like that.

Without realizing it he taught us a few things along the road.  Nothing formal; in fact, I don't ever remember having talks or lectures.  But he taught us to work hard because he worked so hard himself.  He taught us to not hold grudges, to be positive, and to be the first to forgive.  I'm not that great at any of that, but I can't ever remember him being condescending or grumpy even though I always seemed to be moody as a teenager and could be so mean.  He never seemed to let it bother him.  He just overlooked my faults and kept loving me.

It's a blessing in a girl's life to have a dad to protect her, to help her feel safe, to encourage her to work hard at school, to tell her she looked nice and to be proud of her.  It has made all the difference that he took us to church, that he was devoted to his family, and that he worked hard to provide for us.  Like all of us, he had some rough edges.  But he didn't dwell on his or anyone else's.  He helped us feel confident even though we had weaknesses.  He accepted us and encouraged us.  I'm forever grateful I had a dad who was committed to his family, through all the ups and downs of life.  Things weren't always easy, but that's life.  He stayed with it and with us.

And so I'm grateful.  For all of life's experiences that stretch us, that teach us and humble us.  We can be grateful during hard times as well as the good times, even death.  The truths I've been taught my whole life are so comforting.  Maybe it's only when we come to a crossroad like this that we put them to the test and see if they hold up.  I can tell you they do.  As we said our family prayer Saturday night, just a couple hours after finding out my dad had died, I gathered with the kids and told them again, "This is why we do everything we do.  This is what the gospel is all about.  So we can live with our families.  Relationships matter.  How we love each other is what it's all about."  I know this is true.  I also know my dad is still alive, happy and at peace.  He's probably making jokes with his family in heaven, even the angels are probably exchanging polite smiles, and I know he's having a great time catching up with everyone.  It makes me happy just thinking about it.  I'm grateful for this perspective, that I had a dad who loved me, and that I will see him and hug him again.

Words to live by:  "May we live in thanksgiving daily--especially during the seemingly unexplainable endings that are part of mortality.  May we allow our souls to expand in thankfulness toward our merciful Heavenly Father.  May we ever and constantly raise our voices and show by word and deed our gratitude to our Father in Heaven and to His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ."*  And so I am grateful even now when I long for more time, just a few more short years or even hours.  I'm grateful for the many years I had with a good dad and for the memories we made when we weren't even watching.  And I'm grateful you were so kind to him and so accepting.  I am grateful to all of you who have made efforts to show your love.  Thank you so much.

* Grateful in Any Circumstances