When a child loses a parent it is not uncommon to have the thought run through one’s mind, “Wonder what they left?” Lightly, this thought is most accurately answered with the cliché: “Everything,” because we can take nothing with us when we die. However, because we know there are those who scan the newspaper to see what an estate was worth, it is also a fact that what a parent leaves the survivors is an interest to many.

Many months before my father died I anticipated saying something at his funeral. The phrase “Golden Opinions” is attributed to Shakespeare. Often eulogies become so embellished that the friends of the deceased might be tempted to peer into the casket wondering if this is the same person they knew. When my father passed away, as is surely the case for everyone (eventually), I knew there would be those present who recognized Dad as a most generous person, and there would be those present who worked with him during his factory (mold shop) days. I knew the opinions would differ in these two groups; and I also knew Dad left me some things about which neither group would ever know.

On this side of my father’s funeral (after he was gone) I am grateful I am able to say I have no regrets. Both my wife and I talked with Dad, helping him, encouraging him to tell about “the good old days”. We both thanked him throughout the years, and especially I wanted him to know I appreciated what he attempted, and accomplished, raising his youngest son (me) after Mother died. There were times or opportunities we missed, I am sure, but in general it was our purpose to let Dad know we really appreciated him for what he did for us. Flowers strewn over a casket mean nothing to the one in the casket—we should let our loved ones (parents, children or friends) know how we feel about them while they are alive!

Months before I had started plans for such a tribute and when the actual day came, I thought it best for our minister to read such comments. However, at the zero hour, nearly giant anxiety came over me when I was almost unable to find those notes. Finally, with the help of my wife (my chief research helper) those notes were uncovered and I was able to compose what I had been months planning.

I am writing this to encourage you to do the same thing – let others know what you feel, what you did (leading up to those last days) and hopefully this will cause ripples (of assorted memories) throughout the lives of those in attendance at the memorial services. The following words by C. Leonard Allen, of Abilene, Texas were great help to me:

“Out of the constant rush of experiences in our past we selectively fashion a story. We highlight some experiences, forget others, simplify complex events and piece together fragments. That story becomes out past, and that past powerfully shakes our present lives.”

Allowing for some exceptions, I would say that hardly a person who reads this would not be able to find something they should or could say about a parent, a child or a mate they have lost through death. I believe this is that purging experience that providence provides in memorial services. Since that day of my Dad’s funeral I have realized that is what they call “closure”, and we all need it but everyone does not equally experience closure.

In closing these remarks, here are some thoughts I wrote which were mentioned at Dad’s funeral: “I want to say I am grateful to God that Dad gave me the opportunity to practice the presence of Jesus, the reason to truly and sincerely pray for patience and the awareness of others’ feelings; and the assurance that God’s way is the best way for us to live. I doubt that Dad was fully aware of what he gave me because there were times when we were just not “in agreement” but one thing I know for sure, God knew full well what I needed, and it became plain to me in those closing days.

No, my father did not leave a huge financial heritage but he did leave a very modest amount to share with my brother—and what he did leave me I attempted to tell those who came to be with me at the time of my grief; and the words I shared were my tribute to my father. If you have never made such plans, I urge and encourage you to begin such plans.

The above essay was originally written a little over two years after my Dad passed away in 1994. The day I published this (December 4, 2006) is his birthday and he was born in Zanesville, Ohio, December 4, 1901. I just wanted to dust off my original essay a bit and remember Dad in a special way.

THE WORDWRIGHT