I woke early (4:30 am) and had a hard time going back to sleep. I finally did and then didn't wake up till about 8 am. Katt was already up.
After breakfast, I got ready for the funeral. I told my sister-in-law I would be there at 10:30 to help out with the set up. I arrived on time and both my brother and sister-in-law was there. They were getting the place set up, and I was able to help (a little). Patrick worked on his speech and I also worked on mine. They got the video to make sure it worked. I watched it and cried. They had a "life" video of dad at the end. It had him saying we all have to die sometime. I cried even more. That's what he told me several times over the years.
Some of the quilters started showing up first. We had everything ready shortly after. The guest book was out and everyone signed in as they came in. I greeted a few and then got side tracked. We had to add a few more seats as it was filling up fast. Dad had a lot of his co-workers (from the State) show up. It was nice to see people I haven't seen in years.
The service was good. I was the first one up there. It took me a little bit to get started but once I got going with my speech, it went pretty good. Then my younger brother was up there. He did an awesome job telling everyone about dad's career. Then my older brother was up there with virus's. It was really good. It went so good. Then they showed everyone the video and that was a tear jerker.
Potluck was after. I kept getting tagged by everyone that knew me. I even got tagged by people I didn't know. I was so glad to see the McCoy's there. He worked under my dad in Germany. She was a dear friend that stayed with us while the men were on swing shift. We'd walk her back home when she left late at night.
We had my sister-in-law take some photos of us. This is Phil, Katt, Patrick and myself.
This one is my mother, Phil, Katt, Patrick and myself.
It was an honor to speak for my father. There is a hole in my life now. It will be hard get used to.
This was my speech today:
Let me tell you a little bit
about my dad. My father was a quiet man when we were children. We’d ask him
questions and it depended on what mood he was in as to what kind of answer we
would get. He loved to joke around.
The first time we lived in
Maryland, he worked at a gas station to make extra money for the family.
Between jobs, he would drive us around to see the country side. He loved to
travel. We had our “Sunday drives” even while in High School. On our trips, he
always had his Pentax camera and would be constantly taking pictures of
everything. He gave me my love for photography, which I have passed down to my
own children.
My dad was always there for
me and my brothers. When my first grade
teacher told my parents I was behind on reading, dad would sit down with me
every night and read with me. He would read the story first, putting
expressions and humor in the story. Then he would have me read it back to him.
I loved to hear him read. Later on, when we moved to Alaska, we found out I had
dyslexia. Mom did all the work and planning to help me, but it was dad who took
me to sessions at the University of Alaska to learn how to read and write
correctly. We’d pull the “Highlights” magazine out and work the puzzles and
games that were in the book. We had contests to see who could find the missing
pieces the fastest. He also knew I couldn’t sit still, so he would find games
and things for me to do, like memorizing important phone numbers or social
security numbers, while I waited. He would continue to challenge me throughout
life.
As the years went on, we
would talk about everything and anything. We’d take walks and talk about how he
was doing and even about the weather. He loved looking at the weather reports
and checking his thermometer. We bought him many thermometers over the years.
When one died, and he’d talk about getting one, and when he never got one for
himself, we pick one up for him. We even had an ongoing game where if it was
over 75 degrees he would ask me what the temperature was, fully knowing I
didn’t want to know because it only made me feel hotter.
He loved to hear about his
family. I would tell him what I found on his family tree, and we would talk about
the things he remembered. We often talked about going back to NY to see where
the family came from, but never made it. When I told him his grandmother had a
child before she married granddad, he laughed and said that explained so much.
Dad’s passion was gardening.
We had a garden everywhere we lived. The only place he didn’t have one was
Germany. He missed not being able to garden when we were there. Dad would often
have a salt shaker in his pocket and when the tomatoes were ripe, he’d pick
them off the vine, salt them, and then take a bite. He loved his tomatoes fresh
off the vine. He’d even offer us a bite of whatever was in the garden. Dad
loved his beans with bacon and would make the dish every year. He’d make enough
to feed an army, and it never went to waste.
Through the years, dad and
mom would often entertain others. If anyone was without family on the holidays,
he would invite them to join us. They always had an open door for all their
military friends. Dad would say “there is no rank at our house.” He loved to
cook for a crowd and never missed an opportunity to do so.
The family would often play
card games. I’m going to miss those card games because dad loved to take his
dear sweet time. We’d all be telling him to get moving and he’d be looking at
his cards, smile and say, “I’m waiting for the cards to change.” Mom would
always respond back with a large sigh and saying “Myron” in a loving but “get
your butt moving” kind of way. Then there were the times when he would go to
the bathroom, only to be found in front of the TV watching the Mariner’s game.
We’d get after him, and he would always say, “I was just looking for the
score.” There wasn’t a board game or card game that dad or mom didn’t know how
to play. We’d spend hours as children playing games at the table. Jokes would
fly and we all seemed to be the best of friends when we played.
Recently, Dad would come and
watch my husband and I bowl twice a week. When he saw I was having a poor game,
he would try to coach me and help me recover. A lot of the time, his advice
worked. Other times, I really didn’t want to hear it. He was our team’s
cheerleader, but wasn’t afraid to cheer for the other teams. Of course, none of
this was possible until he had a cup of coffee in his hand. As all of you know,
he wouldn’t do anything without his coffee.
Dad would call me on
Tuesday’s when mom was at quilting to see what I was up to. Every time he came
over he would ask what I was working on. He would light up when I showed him.
So, when I was appliqueing an Eagle for myself, he would ask me every step of
the way how it was going. I decided at
that time, it was going to be in his Quilts of Valor quilt. He beamed when the
quilt was presented to him. He loved it so much he wanted to hang it in the
house. Dad’s name and years in the
military are printed on the quilt. Every time he thought about it, he would
thank me again for doing that for him. He wanted a Quilt of Valor, and I was
thrilled to be able to get him one.
Over the years, dad started
talking more, especially about his career. We’d go out to eat and he’d talk all
the way down to Longview about whatever was on his mind. It was as if he loved
to talk. This man, who spoke so little when we were younger, started talking
more. I asked him to write a book about his life. He said he was thinking about
it, but didn’t know how to start. Even in December when I asked him if he
started, he said no, he still couldn’t figure out how to start it.
I could write a book about my
dad. There is so much I want to tell you about him, but there isn’t enough time
or paper to be able to tell you everything. He was a gentle man that rarely
ever got mad. If he did, mom was the only one who really saw that side of him.
He was always there for us kids. He would be there with a hug when he felt you
needed it. And trust me, I needed it often.
I have no regrets. I said and
asked what I needed to. Dad knew how I felt and he knew his death would be hard
for me. He tried to tell me over the last couple years his end was coming and I
needed to be okay with it. I’m thankful for the last 20 years of being so close
to him. We had good times together and I love him dearly. No regrets, just
those wishes of – I wish I had one more hug. I wish I could play one more game
with him. If only we had one more day but I know that one more day still
wouldn’t be enough.
So, dad, I’m trying to be
strong like you wanted. Just know you will be in my heart and mind each and
every day till my day comes to see you again. I love you!
Happy Stitching/Happy Quilting!
