A Eulogy for My Father

I will never be able to contextualize the life of my father and the sacrifices he made for my family on his final day on earth and throughout his entire life. My father, uncle and dog were senselessly murdered on July 1, 2023; they had so much more life left to live. These words were my humble attempt to honor and thank my dad and my uncle.

I love you, Dad, and I will miss you forever.

My dad would have been absolutely mortified to know that this many people were here to listen to stories about him. He was a shy man, an introverted man, a good man.

Those who knew him were pretty lucky because he was fiercely loyal. When he loved something or someone, it was with 100% certainty. The best example of this was his love for and faith in God. He clung to his faith, had an outstanding testimony and fully relied on God’s grace. He was reserved but could always open up about God’s grace to those around him, which left an outstanding impact.

The second best example of this certain love was to my mom, Debbie.

My mom and dad are the perfect examples of opposites attract. She’s loud, funny and acts much younger than she is. The last family gathering we were at, she slid down the treehouse slide just because she wanted to. My dad was rolling his eyes and going, “Oh, geez, Deb, oh geez, Deb” while she did it. He thought she was crazy. She is. He thought she was beautiful. She is. He thought she was resilient. She is and will be. He thought she was the most perfect partner to him. She was.

They met almost 40 years ago at a singles group at church. She gave him her number and said to call her. He was smart enough to listen.

You know, my dad really knew a smart woman when he saw one. points to self

My family is pretty traditional, and I am not. I have been a lot of “firsts” in my family, whether it’s my education, my beliefs or my stubborn and fierce stance on independence.

We didn’t always see eye to eye, but my dad never ever looked down on me and my brother for seeing things differently than him. He always let me make the best decisions for me. I am so grateful for that. He was so proud of me and never forgot to tell me. What an amazing honor to have a father who told you that constantly without fail.

His relationship with my brother Nathan was much different. Their strengths and weaknesses are so similar, which gave them a really strong bond I can’t fully relate to. They truly got each other in a way that many people can’t. They are both so loyal to family. They both loved my grandfather with a fierceness I can only envy. They had the same sense of humor; I think I am hilarious, but they never thought I was funny. Instead, they were always laughing at each other’s jokes or weird YouTube videos that they were showing each other. They both understood their physical roots really well and felt so comfortable in the house I grew up in; they relate so well to neighbors in a way that feels so familial and so comforting. It’s pretty remarkable.

His relationship with my uncle, meanwhile, was complicated at times. They were forced to become family when my mom married my dad. My aunt, my mom’s best friend, was a package deal. Then, since they weren’t close enough, my parents moved next door to my aunt and uncle in 1992. They were close enough to hear each others’ conversations in the backyard, wander over to talk about the gardens or sometimes bicker about who knows what. In the end, they died for something that I know they felt so strongly tied to deep down in their hearts: defending each others’ honor and families. I am so grateful for my Uncle Dave and his heroic efforts to help my family.

Anyone who knows my uncle knows how passionate he is about everything. Seriously, I have watched the man go on 10-minute rants about a scent of a candle or a specific rock formation in a national park. His passion was once again on display in his final moments. He passionately loved my Aunt Darla, my mom — who was his sister-in-law — his three daughters, his grandkids, his entire family and the homes that we had built to the point that he looked danger in the eye and stood up for those passions. I will never be able to fully grasp the sacrifice he made for my mom, me and my brother. We love you, Uncle Dave.

Another man who made a sacrifice is Tom, our families’ neighbor who has become family, who is with us today by the grace of God. My dad and uncle were some of Mr. Tom’s closest friends. I knew this before he heroically raced toward them in a time of immense danger, and now I will never, ever doubt it or forget it. We love you, Mr. Tom and are so glad that you are still with us on earth to mourn and celebrate our family.

Speaking of family celebrations, my dad got really good at helping facilitate them. A few years ago, my dad got really into grilling and smoking meats for my family and his friends. It was more than just a hobby or an act of service; it was a metaphor for his love. He loved the grilling process but he would get SO flustered while cooking, tearing up the kitchen, spice mixes everywhere, refrigerator doors open, two hours behind his self-created timeline of when he wanted the food on the table. He was so afraid the food would be bad and would say, “Oh, I don’t know if it’ll be good enough” right up until we all tasted his mouth-watering meals. It was always good enough.

He was always good enough.

His face lit up when all the meal prep was done and when people loved and appreciated his work. And he was proud of it because it was delicious and he knew it.

As strange as this sounds, his grilling was a lot like his love. He was so conscious of getting it just right. Of being enough. Of doing the right things. Of pouring the proper amount of care into it. Of being patient to let things marinate, grow and flourish.

In the end, it was always enough. He was always so much more than enough for me, my brother and my mom.

I hope he knew that. I really do. As a man always concerned about his shortcomings, he died in the most heroic and brave way that I can’t even begin to fathom.

His actions are more admirable than I could ever contextualize. He saved my mom’s life. He saved the family the night of his passing.

But, it wasn’t the first time he saved us. For my entire life and Nathan’s entire life, he was a protector, a savior and a rock. He fiercely defended his family, leaned on his faith in God, worked at jobs he didn’t like to support us and always gave us such amazing memories.

Some amazing memories … and some less-than-picture-perfect ones:

He saved his hard-earned money to take our family to Disney World. We had such an amazing time, with the exception of one ride in which we waited in a two-hour line, finally got to the front of the line and sat in the car only for Nathan to decide … he didn’t want to go on it. My dad took him out, patiently and quietly, but with literal steam coming out of his ears.

I have never seen such patience in a man.

In second grade, I had a solo in a Christmas play. I was very nervous, but my dad so generously took all the attention off of my singing when he dressed me and sent me to the stage only for my mom to realize once I was up there that he very obviously put my dress on backwards.

So considerate of him to distract people from how tone-deaf I was even at age 6.

I could go on and on with memories, and he would proudly listen to me give this talk for hours, but at the end of the day, I’m thankful to be like my dad. And by that, I mean, we’d both rather be in the corner, spotlight away from us.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve it. He was a great, great man, and I hope that God continues to shine light down and illuminate this fact over and over again through the length of my mom’s long life ahead and beyond.

We love you so much, Dad, and I find peace in knowing that no matter how much we loved you, you loved mom, Nath and me even more.