Tomorrow, January 3, 2011, my dad would have been 80 years old. He was born January 3, 1931. He was proud of that birthday--1/3/31. He died just over 3 years ago, right before Thanksgiving in 2007.
He and mom were married 51 years by that time. We all miss him terribly, especially my mom. But I'm proud of how strong we have all been and how positive we are in thinking of him. A few of us went to the Veteran's cemetery today to say "Happy Birthday". My great-nephew, who was born over 2 years after Pa-Pa died, had a great time getting his picture taken. One thing I've noticed about visiting the cemetery with my family members--no one ever cries or seems too sad, even mom. We talk to the vets who man the entrance, warning people to lock their cars and carry their purses with them because there have been so many break-ins. We look at the wreaths laid upon fields of headstones. We marvel at the wildlife drawn to the small ponds scattered about. Today there were two turtles and a crane in the pond next to dad's marker. We spend just a few minutes talking to dad and taking a few pictures and then go home. I think that's a good cemetery experience.
Mom said today, when we were talking about his birthday tomorrow, that "he would have been a young 80." She's right about that. He died too young--complications after cancer surgery--and no one was ready for it. But he lived a long and fulfilling life and we all take comfort in that.
In his honor, I'm posting the eulogy that I gave at his funeral. When I re-read it today, I was surprised at a lot of what I had said. I guess the immediacy of the grief helped me write a pretty apt summary of who he was and why I loved him.
I'd like to tell you about the things that I believe made my father special.
Henry was a friend to everyone he ever met. He loved to meet new people and learn about their backgrounds and find something he had in common with them. Even while he was in and out of the hospital over the last few months, he made friends with every nurse, patient care tech, respiratory therapist, and janitor that he came in contact with. He had a way of finding the good in people and he always left everyone smiling.
He especially loved children. Of course his children and grandchildren were the joys of his life, but he was special to so many other children. Just one example, when they lived in Nederland, there was a little boy about 5 years old who lived next door. He used to come to the kitchen door and knock, and when my mom answered, he would say "can Henry come out and play?" And, of course, Henry always went out to play. He was always a big tease with the kids, and kept them mesmerized with silly tricks and sayings.
He constantly demonstrated how much he loved his family. When I was a kid, he piled all five of us and our mom in the station wagon and drove us 8 hours down to south Texas to visit his parents multiple times a year. I'm sure those trips were no picnic for my parents--think about how many times five different kids can say "are we there yet" in 8 hours! But he would not miss a holiday with Grandpa Bill and Grandma Fina.
He provided for us even when it wasn't easy. I can't imagine how he and my mom made ends meet with 5 small children when he was just starting out in his career. But we never went without anything we needed. And often, he would find a way to get us something that we didn't really need, but really, really wanted. He bought us musical instruments, paid for dance lessons and football uniforms, and made sure we got to go to camp and on school trips. Not to mention college and other higher education!
He was supportive and proud of all of us. He loved to tell us what he thought we should do with our lives, but when we didn't follow his advice he wasn't bitter. Once he know we were really serious about our dreams, he would throw his support behind us 100%, even if he thought we were a little crazy. And believe me, he often thought we were a little (or a lot) crazy!
Henry was very intelligent. When we were younger we were all convinced that he knew everything about everything. We used to ask him "Daddy, what is that?" and he would always give a detailed answer. Later we learned that occasionally he didn't really know what something was, but he would make up an impressive answer anyway. His greatest talent was in "fixing things." He had such an analytical mind that he could always figure out how things worked and what needed to be done to make them work better. And he didn't like to see something that wasn't working properly. He would always whip out his tools and fix whatever wasn't quite right whereever he was. In the hospital a few months ago, his hospital room door was very squeaky and woke him up multiple times a night everytime anyone came in or out. So he had someone bring him a can of WD 40 and he fixed that door so it didn't squeak!
The most special thing to me about my dad was how much he taught me. He taught me to ride a two-wheel bicycle even though I was scared to death and convinced I couldn't do it. He taught me to try my hardest and do my best in school and in everything else in life. He also taught me a lot of things that you wouldn't expect a dad to teach his daughter back in the 60's. When I was about 11 or 12, he went outside and noticed that his car had a flat tire. He told me to come on outside because it was about time I learned to change a tire. And he told me how to change a flat tire (and I did most of it myself). He also taught me how to use power tools, how to change the oil and tune up a car, how to rig a fishing line and how to set the hook, how to skin a catfish, how to catch crawfish and crabs, how to use a slide rule, how to fix a leaky pipe, and on and on. All these lessons made me realize that there was absolutely nothing that I couldn't do if I put my mind to it. Between the things my mom and my dad taught me, I feel like I can pretty much do anything. I figure that is a pretty special gift to give to a child. I know mom and dad gave that gift to all five of us.
I also want to say a few words about my mom. She may look like a delicate flower, but don't be fooled. She is the strongest woman I know. When we were kids, she held our family together when dad was off traveling for work. When there were family crises, she made everything right. During dad's illness, she was the strongest of all of us. She never got discouraged, or gave up hope, or felt sorry for herself. She reminded me last week that dad was an excellent dancer. They went dancing on their first date. He could really jitterbug. I remember him dancing the twist with us in the living room when American Bandstand was on. Mom said she and dad thought that they had at least another 10 good years together. She's going to miss him most of all. I hope we will all remember to be there for her to do the little things that Henry did, like carry in the groceries and pay the bills.
Thank you for being here.
Thank your for reading.