I can honestly say Dad’s funeral was a celebration of his life. Not a dry eye in the house, but a celebration nevertheless. He accomplished a lot in his four score and two. He influenced a wide circle of people. He had a large and loving family. He had multitudes of friends. He made a difference.
I’ll probably write more about Dad in the future . . . how can I not write about the man who convinced Missouri Republicans that naming the mule state animal would not threaten their hegemony, or who talked the local VA hospital into building a chapel and then made sure they engraved an F-15 on its glass door? But that will be in the future, after I’ve had time to think about things. We all need time to think about things when a loved one dies.
My wife always says I’m just like my father. The day after Dad’s funeral I found myself, sitting in Dad’s chair out on the patio while holding forth on various subjects, suddenly aware that my siblings and in-laws were giving me the same look I get from Donna. And then I glanced at my son Gregory, who had an “oh my God, I’m just like my father” expression on his face. Later that night, passing around the family albums, my sisters and I looked at childhood photos of Dad, me, my son Gregory, and Gregory’s son Quentin. The same little boy looked back at us. Talk about your endless chain of generations.
But it’s a good thing. Dad laid a solid foundation, and the Woodford house will last a long time.
Rest in peace, Dad.
Sorry to hear of your loss. Your Dad sure accomplished a lot in his “retirement” years (like most retired officers I know). I’m glad you got to visit with him the past fuw months–I’m sure he appreciated having his family around during that time.