In honor of his January birthday, (Which he hated and always wanted to celebrate in May) I am posting my talk from his funeral. Anyone who never knew him, missed out. But this talk helps you get to know him a bit more.
I miss you dad. Happy Birthday.
Lessons I have learned From My Dad
A quote from the book The Martian Chronicles matches my emotions
today: “It fills me with such feelings that I don't know whether to laugh or
cry.
When
someone you love dies, a gate in your mind is broken and a flood of memories
washes over you. This is what
happened just an hour or two after we left the hospital last Thursday.
Luckily I had
the foresight to begin a list of everything I could remember about my dad.
At first 90% of
it was about food. My dad passed
on to me a few traits and one of them was an ever-present sweet tooth. He and I love candy. Halloween and
Easter were favorite holidays (probably due to the abundance of marshmallow peeps
being sold), and we stashed candy like thieves all over the house. (For example, a few days ago, my mom
found several petrified and forgotten milky way mini’s stashed in my dad’s
temple bag). I was shocked since I thought I knew all his hiding places.
Though candy was
not his only love. My dad bought a bushel of Golden Delicious apples every
September. He would then dry them, filling the house with a warm fall
scent. He also had a special place
in his heart for Thai food, Jewish delis, hot mustard, and like me, any type or
form of marshmallow.
But setting aside
the black licorice and pastrami sandwiches, my dad was a scientist at
heart. I think of my childhood,
going to his lab, looking at slides under the microscope and learning how to
properly use a pipette. He lived
in a white lab coat and seemed to be saving the world, one test at a time. When
children are little, parents will often read fairy tales to their kids. Instead my dad gave me a children’s
version of all the great scientific discoveries, complete with pencil sketches
of Alexander Fleming. And once
when I was in elementary school he brought home a little plastic bag with tiny
microorganisms that would glow. It
was his version of a night light.
However, beyond
all of this, my dad taught me some lessons that have helped shape who I
am. Here are just three of the
most important.
Lesson 1-My Dad taught me how to fall in
love with words
Ray Bradbury said in his book The Martian
Chronicles: “Science is no more than an investigation of a miracle we can
never explain, and art is an interpretation of that miracle.”
From a very
early age, I remember both my parents having stacks of books next to their
bed. My mom seemed to devour a
book each a night, and after my dad’s eyesight began to go, he received a
special tape player from the library for the blind. It looked like my walkman
and played all of his favorite books on tape. He constantly listened to books and his running list as of a
week ago was probably in the thousands.
I still remember being up in Yellowstone with my grandparents and seeing
my grandpa sew a scrap of leather into pocket for my dad’s tape player. My dad could thread his belt through
and his player could literally be attached to his hip.
My dad had many
favorites. He was the only person
I knew whose favorite book was Les Miserable by Victor Hugo- the unabridged version.
He listened to it many times.
One author however stood out as his favorite. He loved the works of Ray Bradbury. He loved the poetic language Bradbury
skillfully wove together into stories about traveling to Mars. I soon fell in love with language and
poetry too. When I read something
beautiful, I got trapped in the words and phrases, reading them over and over
again, and savoring them like a piece of dark chocolate. My dad was a quiet man but he would
light up like a candle when we talked about Ray Bradbury. My dad helped me truly fall in love
with words.
Lesson 2-My dad taught me to work hard
Ray Bradbury said in his book Something
Wicked this way Comes, “Too late, I found you can't wait to become perfect, you got to
go out and fall down and get up with everybody else.”
Anyone who knew
my dad, knew he was a very smart man.
School came easy for him and he was very good at what he did. However, he taught me that working hard
was valued far above any good grade that I got.
I’ve always
struggled with math; any type, whether it be algebra or geometry or even my
basic math facts as a little girl.
Numbers felt so foreign compared to the words I loved, but to my dad,
numbers were a second language. When I needed help on my math, we sat at the
kitchen table, my dad’s diet coke and scratch paper at hand, and we would work through
everything together. I hated that
math only had one right answer. But my dad encouraged me to keep working hard towards that
one answer.
Though my dad
had health challenges he never let them slow him down. He kept going to his job day after day
and he did his job well. He never
gave up.
In 2003 my dad
unexpectedly had a stroke that only affected the speech center of his
brain. He sat up in bed and could
spout off all the technical terms about what happened to his brain, yet, he
couldn’t remember simple words like lamp, chair, or bed.
During the
following months, I had the honor of accompanying my dad to speech therapy
where we worked on building up those parts of his brain again. He had homework every night with loads
of pictures to label. It was an
odd feeling to be sitting at the same kitchen table helping him with his
homework this time around, but again, my dad never gave up. I’ve applied his example in my life,
over and over again. And, each
day, I strive to work hard at what matters most.
Lesson 3-My dad taught me that I matter
Ray Bradbury said in his book Dandelion Wine,
“No person ever died that had a family.”
In 2011, Evelyn,
our first little girl was born.
Labor had been difficult for me without an epidural and I felt so out of
my element, being a first time mom.
When my family came just minutes after Evie was born, everyone crowded
around the new baby at the warming table.
My dad, without a hesitation, walked straight to my bedside and asked if
I was doing ok. He cared. He taught me that I matter.
Many times in my
life my dad has helped me see that I matter. At my wedding, he told everyone
how proud he was of me. He sacrificed time and energy helping me with school.
He was patient and supported me through my worries and challenges. Just weeks
ago, he called to see how I was doing, offering his listening ear. Being a young mom has pushed me to my
limits often, but he has always defended me, loved me, and listened to me when
things got hard.
I believe that
even now, my dad still defends me,
loves me, and listens to me. President Joseph F. Smith said,
“I believe we move and have our being in the
presence of heavenly messengers and of heavenly beings. We are not separate
from them. … We are closely related to our kindred, to our ancestors … who have
preceded us into the spirit world. We can not forget them; we do not cease to
love them; we always hold them in our hearts, in memory, and thus we are
associated and united to them by ties that we can not break. … If this is the
case with us in our finite condition,
surrounded by our mortal weaknesses, … how much more certain it is … to believe
that those who have been faithful, who have gone beyond … can see us better than we can see them; that they know us better than
we know them. … We live in their presence, they see us, they are solicitous
for our welfare, they love us now more
than ever. For now they see the
dangers that beset us; … their love for us and their desire for our well being
must be greater than that which we feel for ourselves.”
I have a firm testimony of
my savior Jesus Christ. He loved
us and gave His life for each of us.
He died, but (as my Evie would say), “he got his body back!” My dad will get his body back too someday. It will be perfected. The resurrection
is real. And the love I have for
my dad will continue to grow as it always has.
