On May 13th, I got the phone call I have feared my whole life. My mom called sobbing and spoke words that I struggle to type, “daddy died.”
For reasons unbeknownst to me this side of heaven, my dad went to be with Jesus that morning. As a healthy, active, full of life, 71-year-old, a pulmonary embolism (or catastrophic heart event, only the Lord really knows what happened) came as a complete shock. We are devastated.
It's been six weeks and I cannot grasp that this is my new reality. My sweet, joyful dad was one of my best friends. We talked or texted almost every day and saw each other weekly at the least. As a very close family who spends a lot of time together, his absence is crushing.
On May 21st, we celebrated my dad’s life together with so many who knew and loved him. At the service, my sister and I shared words that I wrote about who our dad was. When you read these words, my prayer is that you would get a little glimpse of who my dad was, and why his absence leaves such a giant hole in our lives.
My dad’s eulogy
Friends and family – thank you so much for being here with us today to celebrate the life of our dad and grieve with us. We cannot believe that He went to be with the Lord already and we are absolutely devastated with shock and grief that we do not get to see his face on this side of heaven. But for right now, we ask that we take a collective breath together and celebrate the truly incredible man that our dad was.
Did you guys pack snacks and sleeping bags? Cause we might be here awhile…
If you read our dad’s obituary, you’ll notice that a phrase we used to describe him was “he fiercely loved.” The verse we chose from Romans says, “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” That is the kind of love that describes our dad – one that is so deep it’s beyond comprehension.
You could see it in the way he talked. The way he was already at your door with a toolbox in hand and somehow had already run to the hardware store before you’d even finished explaining the issue you were having with your toilet. The way he brought over not one but 6 boxes of your favorite cookies from Costco. The way he gave generously just because he wanted to. And you could see it in the way that he called just to check in and update you on his day.
A lot of times the calls were to tell you how many turkeys were in the backyard, what he had for breakfast, to ask if you’d tried yogurt for your upset stomach, or to make sure you knew why you absolutely needed the newest Apple product he was obsessing over.
His calls were often not short, even after you told him, “Hey dad, or hey Todd, I really have to get going.”
But those conversations happened because he genuinely cared and wanted to connect deeply. To share everything. If he was excited about something he wanted to tell you about it, and he wanted you to be excited about it too. And while he would often call to chat about random things, if you were struggling and needed to talk – he listened with tenderness and intention, and spoke truth in the simplest, most grounding of ways.
The most beautiful thing about even those long conversations is, our dad was a man who never held back. He was shamelessly authentic. A man full of integrity. And you could see that in everything he did. From the way he ran his business, to the goofy way he got fancy feet and what he called “stupid” shoulders when he danced.
It’s impossible to summarize the life of a man who was so abundantly full of life; someone who had his hands in so many things. He loved biking, riding his motorcycle, fishing, waterskiing, snow skiing, cross country skiing – as you all know, he was a very active guy. And that never slowed down. In fact, we’re pretty sure his pace picked up over the past few years as he added hunting, farming his fields, kayaking, playing ukulele and electric guitar to his already long list of passions.
But no matter how all-in he was on whatever work project or hobby, nothing compared to his passion and deep, deep love for people- especially his family.
Our grief is intense because we were all SO close, and we were so blessed to have spent SO much time together – he wasn’t just our dad, husband, father-in-law, grandpa, or brother – he was our cheerleader, caretaker, protector, and best friend. He was everything.
Being fiercely loved by him was such a gift to experience, and to witness. He adored my mom, the love-of-his-life, best friend, and bride of 48 years, he was absolutely obsessed with his grandchildren, he built an irreplaceable bond with his son-in-laws, and my sister and I were his treasures. He showed it to us in so many ways, so many I love yous, so many laughs, so many tight hugs and kisses on the forehead, and so much generosity. He truly loved us unconditionally.
There is so much more we’d like to tell you about our dad as this is just a tiny glimpse of who he was, but there is one thing you cannot miss. Our dad was the incredible, joyful, loving man that he was because of the God who created Him. Our dad fiercely loved the Lord – he studied the word fervently with his men’s bible study, he talked with God daily, he was an active member at church, and He worshipped the Lord through his love for Christian music. The leader, lover, joyful man you knew him to be? That was because of his love for Jesus.
His identity in Jesus is what empowered the way he loved us, the way he took care of my mom, and the way he shaped us into a family that knew God loved us deeply, and that He was always, always, always, in control.
As we wrestle with the suddenness of our beloved dad’s passing, and question the timing of it all, there is one thing that we are clinging to. We know that we know that we know that because of his relationship with Jesus, He is in glory with the Lord.
One morning as my sister, mom, and I laid in my parents’ bed crying together – Steph painted the most comforting visual. She said, I cannot imagine that dad’s seemingly healthy body gave out so swiftly and unexpectedly – what I have to picture is that in that instant God simply scooped him up as He said, “I’m calling you home NOW.”
We are completely devastated for all of us, we cannot imagine living life here on earth without him – but in the depths of our grief we have both joy and hope, knowing that He is currently soaking up the immeasurable beauty of heaven with the Lord and someday we will meet him there.
It is physically painful to imagine what the days ahead will hold, but I know with confidence that my dad would want us to find joy amidst the pain. He was the epitome of positivity. There’s a family joke that dad would always share when we were struggling. First, he’d listen with intention. He’d hug us in our frustration. And then he’d say, “Okay let’s flush it down the pooper.” We’d laugh – sometimes he’d even literally take us to the bathroom and flush the toilet for dramatic effect. And even though the situation didn’t immediately get better, there was joy right there in the midst of it.
I know we all miss him terribly. There is a giant - unfillable hole that will stay with us until we meet the Lord face to face, but we are going to do our very best to fix our eyes on the One who taught our dad to love and gave him incredible joy, and trust that He will help us make it through each heavy day.
I want to share one more story with you from the longest week without our dad.
Steph wasn’t sure how to tell Lola about grandpa’s death because they were the best of friends. He was an amazing grandpa who lit up when her or Leo entered the room. He was obsessed with them, and they shared many, many precious moments together from ranger rides to bike rides, to playing ukulele and cuddling on the couch.
With great courage my sister took on the impossible task of telling Lola what happened. When Lola heard that grandpa died her instant response was, “So Grandpa is in heaven?” She asked questions, cried, and then some time later said… “I’m not sad anymore, mama. I’m happy.” “Why’s that?” Steph said. “Because Grandpa is in my heart and I know I’m in Grandpa’s heart.”
We know that this is just the beginning of our grief, and that it’s going to be really, really hard to live life without him. But as we look around and see him laced in everything, we have to follow the simple wisdom of my sweet niece. Though his presence is gone, he lives on in all of us.
As we enter these days ahead, please, please, please keep reaching out. Keep telling us stories about him, help us find joy amidst our devastating grief by celebrating the legacy he leaves behind. Ask us to share memories about our dad, ask my mom to tell you about her best friend and the beautiful marriage they shared. And may we all know that even in this unbearable pain, the Lord is present and as dad would so confidently say, “even in this, God is in control.”
thank you & please pray
Thank you for taking the time to read those words. It means so much to me. I pray that you are encouraged or inspired by hearing about how my dad lived his life. When you think of my family, will you please pray for us? Especially for my sweet mama, please.
I shared the words below with those of you on my email list, but I want to leave them here for anyone else who finds this post too.
When people ask how I’m doing, my honest answer is “each day is a new kind of terrible.” My dad was so involved with everything—every aspect of each of our lives—that it’s hard not to see him in everything. That is both beautiful and shattering as the obliterating pain of grief is inescapable.
But as I talk about the searing pain in this loss, I must also talk about the good Lord whose hand can be seen even in this. We know that God is rejoicing with us because my dad now gets to see Jesus face to face. But we also know that He’s mourning with us as we long for my dad’s presence here.
We know God has not left us. We know He has been carrying us, and will help us learn to live without my dad, even though we fight against this reality with every fiber in our bodies.
There’s a song that put words in my mouth on a day where all I had was sobs. It’s called “Hold on, Pain Ends” by For King & Country. The lyrics are as follows:
“Breathe in and breathe out
I know it hurts now
Pray through the waiting
Hold on, pain ends
Hope when it’s all gone
Hope when it’s so wrong
Nothing is wasted
Hold on, pain ends
….
When it’s hard to say amen
And it doesn’t go as planned
When it’s more than you can stand
You can hold onto Me then.”
It is so very hard to say Amen right now. Because I do not feel “in agreement” with the timing that the Lord ordained for my dad’s life. I want to throw a tantrum even though I know it won’t shift a thing (and some days I actually do). But, with gritted teeth and a ton of tears, I am proclaiming with my mouth that nothing is wasted with the Lord, and even when everything is so very wrong, I will cling to Him with hope.
Thank you for reading and for praying for me and my family.