The following is from Bret. He put together Dad's Memorial. I couldn't have done it better myself. He also did a memorial video tribute to Dad that I will try to upload. I think Dad would have been touched. I know I was. It was at his home and these were his words:
Hey, its only me. Its funny how he regarded himself as only me, when to everyone else he was so much more. I’ve been struggling to come up with the words that can do him justice, to bring about a piece of the man that we all have gathered here today to remember. Nothing seems to be enough. So instead of trying to come up with something I thought I would take a different approach and sit back and talk about what I have learned through Dad.
I can remember him taking his belt off, and spanking me with it. I don’t remember what I did, but I deserved it no doubt. He wasn’t much for disciplining me like that. One of the things that I admired most about him was that he would reason with me first before letting me know that there were consequences to my actions.
Dad was unrelenting in being himself. I started to understand at a young age that he liked cowboy boots, and it didn’t matter if anyone else liked them or not, he did. Looking back through the old pictures he was the same through and through. Flannel shirts, hair slicked back on the sides with a curl on top. Pen in his pocket on his shirt along with his glasses, and a pack of cigarettes. In his jeans you’ll find his old black wallet, with pictures of us inside. You’ll find a set of keys, some coins, Levi Garrett, ripped pieces of tin foil from Rolaids packs, and of course, always a pocket knife, and comb. It never mattered to him, what others thought, and that’s what made dad. I’d wake him up for work, and he’d tell me to put a pot of coffee on for him while he sh*ts, showers and scrapes my face. He would have me roll his sleeves up on his arms, then he’d put on his brute. He taught me to find myself and be comfortable with who I am while keeping my nose to the grindstone. If I stumbled he would tell me that sometimes you need to pick yourself up by your boot straps and keep on going. If someone didn’t like what dad did, he’d tell them “Sis on you Pister”, brush it off and keep going.
In life he taught me so many things, some things I wish I had paid better attention to, while other things, including today, once is more than enough of a lesson. However, it’s not only about learning how to manage grief, or how to handle pain, or the sorrow of loss. Its about perspective. Dad always tried to see things differently, and for that lesson I am truly grateful.
Even in death I am learning from him, I am learning that things that I might not have done to the best of my ability are no longer good enough. I know that he is watching over me, and I know that while he isn’t here physically, I can’t do things to disappoint him now. He would say that a man’s word is all he has in this world, and you do what you say you are going to do. That’s one of the things Dad taught me.
One of the things that stays with me always is one of the last things he said to Mom. He said “Enjoy your life” he knew what was coming and yet, even in his final hours, he put his family first. From the beginning to the end, he was an amazing man, one that I am proud to share his last name. I will try to carry on his memory by trying to be the best that I can be, the person that he somehow knew existed inside me, even when I didn’t.
I’ve made my share of mistakes. I have my regrets. I think back to all the times that he asked me to sit a spell and watch wrestling with him. At the time, I never realized that it wasn’t about the wrestling, but about that specific moment in time in which we could share something together. I’d give anything to watch it with him today. I’d take the time to sit and listen to the story I’ve heard a million times over. To be able to tell him about my day and have him guide me through it.
I still struggle with my daily things, some used to use the old bands people used to wear, WWJD what would Jesus do? I never really understood those because I do not have the capacity that god does, how do I live up to Jesus image?. However, WWJD can also be what would Jack do, and that makes me focus on the words. What would he do? Everything in his life can be defined as a lesson on how to handle a situation. Then it came to me, Dad has been preparing me for life, well, all my life. He wouldn’t waiver on the things that he believed in, and he would make sure that responsibility was never taken lightly. I never looked at him like he didn’t have the answer, and it didn’t dawn on me that he was just a person too trying to do what was best. He took everyday as it came and faced it head on, he beat odds, and disproved supposed professionals, and those who were considered experts in their field and masters of their craft. He left on his own terms, and he did so while being surrounded by his loved ones. Peacefully, when he was ready, and different than they said it would be.
It still hurts that he is gone, and I miss you everyday Dad. Sometimes it’s the simplest things that make me start crying, while sometimes it’s the thought of all that I won’t be able to do with him anymore. Death is a hard pill to swallow, yet its one that will come whether we want it to or not. Whether we are ready for it or not. Life is about perspective though, and if nothing else, I can be grateful for the time that I did have with him, and the lessons that he taught me. I hope to be the person he wanted me to be. I hope to be half the man he was, let alone the Dad he was. Those are some mighty big boots to fill.
So I sit back and I think more about what dad taught me. Yes he did things on his own terms, but his willingness to fight gave me, and all of us, 17 more years. Good and bad, but at least we had him. We had the time to tell him we loved him, and tell him the things that made us mad, or sad, or angry, or happy and glad. We got to share with him our most precious moments, and see that he truly loved each and every one of us, because we are family. At the end of the day we are all we have. I am grateful for it, and each and every one of you.
I wont lie and say that its going to be easy, even though I know he’s watching over me that still doesn’t make it easier to handle. It is, however, ok, because I knew that he was suffering, and I am so glad that he no longer has to battle the countless obstacles that plagued him. I think about how he is now free, and can see, and hear, and sing, and walk. I think about him being in heaven and building for us our eternity next to him. Dad always said home is open to us, and I know he would make sure we have a place to go to, he always did. That thought, It lessens the hole that was left behind in his place. I know that hole will never close but I hope by keeping his memories alive and well that I can make that hole smaller. Until we meet again Dad, Keep the light on for me.
