August 12, 2021
August 12, 2021
Happy birthday, Dad! We love and miss you every day.
Beloved husband and father, son and brother, uncle and friend. Kind in heart, loving beyond measure. His spirit will remain indelible in the memories of those who knew and loved him.
He sings with the angels, and his voice we hear on the wind and in our souls. And what comfort his tenor notes provide.
We present this memorial website in memory of our beloved husband and father, Richard Harley Seward, born on August 12, 1942, and who passed away on December 15, 2020. We will forever cherish the time we had with him and ever after will his memory endure in our hearts.
We have loved you and will always love you until forever has its last days.
He sings with the angels, and his voice we hear on the wind and in our souls. And what comfort his tenor notes provide.
We present this memorial website in memory of our beloved husband and father, Richard Harley Seward, born on August 12, 1942, and who passed away on December 15, 2020. We will forever cherish the time we had with him and ever after will his memory endure in our hearts.
We have loved you and will always love you until forever has its last days.
Tributes
Leave a tribute
April 3, 2021
April 3, 2021
Worked with Richard (Dick) in 1968. Became life-long friends. He was a true gentleman to everyone. Will miss him always.
April 1, 2021
April 1, 2021
Papa Seward I miss that smile of yours so much. Thank you for the love and the support over the years. Just knowing I had you and Mama Seward around was very comforting. I know you’re in a better place, but I’d rather have you here. I love you RIP
April 1, 2021
April 1, 2021
I truly enjoyed working with Richard for over fifteen years as a faithful employee and friend and am saddened that he is not with us in person anymore...his spirit remains, though and I am sure that he is singing with the angels right now.
April 1, 2021
April 1, 2021
Still missing you, Dad. So many days pass when I think to share something with you and then remember you're gone. I feel your absence in every way, and I regret not having the opportunity to say to you all the things I meant to say. You are my hero and the man I most admire. Love you always, Dad.
Leave a Tribute
Recent Tributes
August 12, 2021
August 12, 2021
Happy birthday, Dad! We love and miss you every day.
April 3, 2021
April 3, 2021
Worked with Richard (Dick) in 1968. Became life-long friends. He was a true gentleman to everyone. Will miss him always.
April 1, 2021
April 1, 2021
Papa Seward I miss that smile of yours so much. Thank you for the love and the support over the years. Just knowing I had you and Mama Seward around was very comforting. I know you’re in a better place, but I’d rather have you here. I love you RIP
Gallery
His Life
Richard Harley Seward ~ In a Few Words
May 26, 2021
Richard Harley Seward was born in Mason City, IA, to Kenneth and Jane Seward. He had a younger brother, John, two years his junior, who sadly passed away from cancer in 1993. One of Richard’s fondest memories was being able to attend with both his brother and father the 1986 Rose Bowl featuring the Iowa Hawkeyes vs. the UCLA Bruins. Unfortunately, an Iowa victory was not in the cards that year.
Kenneth worked as an auto body mechanic, and Richard enjoyed learning about automotive repair alongside his father. In their youth, John and Richard were extremely close and enlisted together to join the conflict in Vietnam, John with the U.S. Air Force and Richard with the U.S. Army, where he reached the rank of Artillery Sergeant before ending his service and returning home.
On January 11, 1969, Richard joined in holy matrimony the love of his life, Marilyn (née Austin). They would move to San Diego, CA, eventually settling into their forever home in Santee, a San Diego suburb.
Richard attended San Diego State University where he earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in Music. His focus was on voice and for a short time, he sang as part of the chorus with the San Diego Opera. While he entertained aspirations of becoming a professional, touring opera singer, he wanted to be a father very much more. So, when his son, Richard Kendon (not a junior!) was born, he couldn’t conceive of being away from his family as would be demanded by his participation in the opera world, and he sacrificed that dream to devote himself to his dream of fatherhood (he would, however, continue to sing as part of church choirs for the next four decades).
In 1978, Richard and Marilyn welcomed their second child, Jamie Janette, and their family was complete.
Richard’s world revolved around his wife and children. He worked hard to make sure his beloved family was wanting for none of the necessities of life. Even in the end, his family was foremost in his mind.
Richard was a quiet man. He could appear distant, but he was always taking in the events around him. Though first impressions of him might have revealed a profoundly serious, driven individual, he was also a classic gentleman, full of dry humor, playful mischief, and always caring and compassionate.
In retirement, he enjoyed traveling with his wife and being with her in the kitchen cooking whatever recipes caught their fancy.
In the end, he was taken far too soon, but his memory will live on with those lucky enough to find themselves within his sphere of influence. Richard didn’t really have close friends. He had a family, immediate and extended, made up of individuals who he welcomed into his life and who benefitted from his fierce loyalty.
Richard left this life as he entered it – loved beyond words; his will be a memory that never fades.
Richard is survived by his wife, Marilyn (with whom he shared nearly 52 years of marriage); son and daughter-in-law – Rich and Charlotte; daughter and son-in-law – Jamie and Chris Queen; Aunt Nancy Price; Uncle Bill and Aunt Ann Rapelje; sister-in-law Pam Seward; Victoria Seward (niece); T.J. and Brian Seward (nephews); Ciara Seward (great-niece). He is preceded in death by Kenneth and Jane (mother and father) and John (brother).
Kenneth worked as an auto body mechanic, and Richard enjoyed learning about automotive repair alongside his father. In their youth, John and Richard were extremely close and enlisted together to join the conflict in Vietnam, John with the U.S. Air Force and Richard with the U.S. Army, where he reached the rank of Artillery Sergeant before ending his service and returning home.
On January 11, 1969, Richard joined in holy matrimony the love of his life, Marilyn (née Austin). They would move to San Diego, CA, eventually settling into their forever home in Santee, a San Diego suburb.
Richard attended San Diego State University where he earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in Music. His focus was on voice and for a short time, he sang as part of the chorus with the San Diego Opera. While he entertained aspirations of becoming a professional, touring opera singer, he wanted to be a father very much more. So, when his son, Richard Kendon (not a junior!) was born, he couldn’t conceive of being away from his family as would be demanded by his participation in the opera world, and he sacrificed that dream to devote himself to his dream of fatherhood (he would, however, continue to sing as part of church choirs for the next four decades).
In 1978, Richard and Marilyn welcomed their second child, Jamie Janette, and their family was complete.
Richard’s world revolved around his wife and children. He worked hard to make sure his beloved family was wanting for none of the necessities of life. Even in the end, his family was foremost in his mind.
Richard was a quiet man. He could appear distant, but he was always taking in the events around him. Though first impressions of him might have revealed a profoundly serious, driven individual, he was also a classic gentleman, full of dry humor, playful mischief, and always caring and compassionate.
In retirement, he enjoyed traveling with his wife and being with her in the kitchen cooking whatever recipes caught their fancy.
In the end, he was taken far too soon, but his memory will live on with those lucky enough to find themselves within his sphere of influence. Richard didn’t really have close friends. He had a family, immediate and extended, made up of individuals who he welcomed into his life and who benefitted from his fierce loyalty.
Richard left this life as he entered it – loved beyond words; his will be a memory that never fades.
Richard is survived by his wife, Marilyn (with whom he shared nearly 52 years of marriage); son and daughter-in-law – Rich and Charlotte; daughter and son-in-law – Jamie and Chris Queen; Aunt Nancy Price; Uncle Bill and Aunt Ann Rapelje; sister-in-law Pam Seward; Victoria Seward (niece); T.J. and Brian Seward (nephews); Ciara Seward (great-niece). He is preceded in death by Kenneth and Jane (mother and father) and John (brother).
Recent stories
Three Years Gone - Three Years Missed
December 15, 2023
Hey Pops,
I know it's been a while, and I apologize for falling down on the job here maintaining this space. I have been busy, which I know you understand too well. It's been three years today since you had to go. The days between have gotten a little easier, but your memory endures. I think about you every day. And too many days I find myself wanting to pick up the phone to call you and share the day's happenings or a funny story (usually one that is funny at my expense - but we both were fond of putting ourselves in innocent, compromising situations for a laugh; I have photographic evidence, mind you).
As I'm sure you're aware, because she better be there right beside you, Mom passed away only a few months ago. Your daughter did an amazing job caring for her. She doubts this in herself, too often. I think she would appreciate receiving your approval, however, you might be able to give it. I don't know what that would look like, but I'm sure she'd recognize it.
Thank you for everything, Dad. For nearly 79 years as a wonderful, devoted father. For being my friend. For being my hero. And for providing me with an example of strong character, selflessness, and thoughtfulness I continue to try to emulate. I know I fall short. I'm unfortunately hardwired a bit differently, but you knew that. You didn't quite understand it, but you did your best. That's more than many fathers would have done.
Thank you to you and Mom for all you've given Sis and me over the years and continue to give even though you are no longer here. I don't deserve the generosity. I have taken far more than I have given, which shames me. Nevertheless, I am grateful to you both for your love and faith in me to do better. I'm trying. I truly am. And though each day comes with its own set of challenges, be they external or internal, I manage somehow to scrape through. No one will know the depths of my pain; I keep a lot of it as well hidden as possible. I imagine you can see it now and understand better how much I am a prisoner of my own mind. I miss who I used to be so long ago when there was seemingly nothing I could not accomplish. I know you were proud of me then. I struggle to believe you were proud of me when you passed. But I think I might have begun to earn back that pride in these intervening years.
So, three years. I still remember the day like it was yesterday. I am still grieved by not being able to say goodbye to you in person. But if I'm being honest with myself, I would not have been able to endure seeing you in the amount of pain you were in, that even through the morphine brought you to tears. To this day, I still wish I could have taken on that pain and taken it from you, the same way you always tried to unburden me of my fears and perceived failures. You taught me a lot about how to be a man. For a good part, I wish I had listened better. These days, I'm trying to be better. In case you're watching. And if you are looking down, please make note of that as well as the fact that I still have, mostly, a full head of hair.
I love you, Dad. I always will. I know Jamie is thinking about you right now. We're both feel so bittersweet that you and Mom have been reunited. I can't speak for Jamie, but I still feel a little lost without your guidance. But I'm finding my own means to light the path forward. I will always look behind with longing and regret. It did take until the very day you passed for me to finally become a man. I'd always been just a boy playing at being grown up - too scared to trust myself. However, like I said, I'm trying to do better and be better, and I couldn't have asked for a better role model.
I'll try to be better about writing. I love and miss you, Old Man. I will love and miss you until forever's last day.
I know it's been a while, and I apologize for falling down on the job here maintaining this space. I have been busy, which I know you understand too well. It's been three years today since you had to go. The days between have gotten a little easier, but your memory endures. I think about you every day. And too many days I find myself wanting to pick up the phone to call you and share the day's happenings or a funny story (usually one that is funny at my expense - but we both were fond of putting ourselves in innocent, compromising situations for a laugh; I have photographic evidence, mind you).
As I'm sure you're aware, because she better be there right beside you, Mom passed away only a few months ago. Your daughter did an amazing job caring for her. She doubts this in herself, too often. I think she would appreciate receiving your approval, however, you might be able to give it. I don't know what that would look like, but I'm sure she'd recognize it.
Thank you for everything, Dad. For nearly 79 years as a wonderful, devoted father. For being my friend. For being my hero. And for providing me with an example of strong character, selflessness, and thoughtfulness I continue to try to emulate. I know I fall short. I'm unfortunately hardwired a bit differently, but you knew that. You didn't quite understand it, but you did your best. That's more than many fathers would have done.
Thank you to you and Mom for all you've given Sis and me over the years and continue to give even though you are no longer here. I don't deserve the generosity. I have taken far more than I have given, which shames me. Nevertheless, I am grateful to you both for your love and faith in me to do better. I'm trying. I truly am. And though each day comes with its own set of challenges, be they external or internal, I manage somehow to scrape through. No one will know the depths of my pain; I keep a lot of it as well hidden as possible. I imagine you can see it now and understand better how much I am a prisoner of my own mind. I miss who I used to be so long ago when there was seemingly nothing I could not accomplish. I know you were proud of me then. I struggle to believe you were proud of me when you passed. But I think I might have begun to earn back that pride in these intervening years.
So, three years. I still remember the day like it was yesterday. I am still grieved by not being able to say goodbye to you in person. But if I'm being honest with myself, I would not have been able to endure seeing you in the amount of pain you were in, that even through the morphine brought you to tears. To this day, I still wish I could have taken on that pain and taken it from you, the same way you always tried to unburden me of my fears and perceived failures. You taught me a lot about how to be a man. For a good part, I wish I had listened better. These days, I'm trying to be better. In case you're watching. And if you are looking down, please make note of that as well as the fact that I still have, mostly, a full head of hair.
I love you, Dad. I always will. I know Jamie is thinking about you right now. We're both feel so bittersweet that you and Mom have been reunited. I can't speak for Jamie, but I still feel a little lost without your guidance. But I'm finding my own means to light the path forward. I will always look behind with longing and regret. It did take until the very day you passed for me to finally become a man. I'd always been just a boy playing at being grown up - too scared to trust myself. However, like I said, I'm trying to do better and be better, and I couldn't have asked for a better role model.
I'll try to be better about writing. I love and miss you, Old Man. I will love and miss you until forever's last day.
One Year Gone
December 15, 2021
Dad,
Today, it's been one year since we had to let you go. Though you are no longer in pain, and we are so grateful for that, our hearts still ache in the wake of your absence. You were gone too soon, and none of us were prepared to say goodbye (as if anyone really ever is). But we endure. You'd be proud of your daughter, who works tirelessly to care for Mom and ensure she is comfortable - just as you did. You guys raised that kid right (we'll overlook the early fits in starts; just kidding you sister). That girl is strong, but I hope she understands the weight of the world does not rest on her shoulders. I hope she takes time for herself and finds the quiet moments to cherish your memory and attend to her own grief. Mom remains resilient. She misses you like only someone who has spent nearly 52 years with another can. She carries on as best she can. Know, Dad, she is loved and taken care of, as was your final wish. As for me, I'm not sure a day goes by that I don't think of you, that I don't reach for the phone to share with you something funny (at least to me) or something infuriating (again, at least to me). I think you would be happy with where I have landed after having to do some serious course correcting. I'm often told that I should rest easy and know that you were proud of me. I have always struggled with that - even when you were here. Sometimes, I felt like such a disappointment. But, now, I think I can believe I'm in a place that would make you proud. You have been, and will always be my hero (Sister, The Wife, and Mom each running close second - sorry dear). I miss you every day. I don't expect the days ahead to get any easier without you. But with time comes acceptance, and I can live with that. Though you are no longer present in body, I know there are still so many hearts keeping your memory alive. Mine pounds loud in the fore. I hope you can hear it. I love you, Old Man.
Forever Your Son,
Rich (aka The Firstborn)
Father's Day
June 20, 2021
Happy Father's Day, Dad. This is the first one without you. Another first of many first's to come that you won't be here to share with me, with us. I have to have faith, though, that you won't be far.
Today, we celebrate the father you were...the father you will always be.
Love you, old man!
Rich
Today, we celebrate the father you were...the father you will always be.
Love you, old man!
Rich