Skip to main content

Eulogy (part 2)

My father never found his kingdom on earth. The multimillion dollar inheritance that he often spoke of with such hope and promise would never be realized. That two dollars and fifty cents? I still have it today. When I first discovered in his wallet, among his belongings, I wept. Such a proud and successful man should never die with so little. I now keep it among my prize possessions in honor of what my father did leave me. He left me with something greater than a kingdom on earth. He left me with a desire and a passion to be the father that he couldn’t be with me. He left me with a thirst for love and family.

In the end when I think of my father, a number descriptions come to mind: bold, passionate, angry, driven. But I know that he loved me best way he could. In his own way, everything he did was for me. The way he lived his life and even the way he died. His cause of death was congested heart failure. Indeed my father had so much on his heart that his life could no longer bare his load. As a child I looked up to him, my hero, my standard, my hope. As a man I loved him so much, not for who he was, but for what he was striving to be. I finally forgave him for dying. I finally released him into eternity. God I hope I see him again. I hope that he is with you, complete and enjoying eternal life. My father was cremated and his ashes were sprinkled over a rose garden in San Jose. He would love to know that when people admired those roses, that they would remember him and his life, the beautiful black rose that he was.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Day 19: Write in Someone Else’s Voice

The Coward The boy’s voice awakened the man.   He found shelter in the abandoned school, in what was once, his school, his office.   Eleven, twelve, and thirteen year old students once ran down those halls, hurrying to their classes, hurrying to his English class. Now since the incident, no children survived that massacre.   That thought made the man shake with fear until he drifted off to sleep.   So when the man heard the boy’s voice screaming “Help Me!, Please Help Me!”   it shook the man from his sleep.   The man laid still.   His heart pounded as he waited to hear boy again.   “Help me! Please Somebody!” The man heard the boy loud and clear.   He could not pretend it was some animal or dream.   He knew it was a boy. And it paralyzed him.   The man clutched his knees to his chest and tucked his chin.   He took slow deep breaths, silent breaths, hoping the boy would believe he was on his own, ...

Day 18: Waiting

(unedited) Like many of you, I am not a huge fan of waiting.   There’s such a negative perception to waiting. As a society, we hate it, don’t we?   We hate it so much that companies know how to sell us their products.   Just tell us that it’s fast.   Fast food, fast delivery, fast internet service entices us.   Instant is another temptation.   Instant cash, instant coffee, Instagram! Okay, not quite the same but you know what I’m saying, right?   We complain about being hurried, but we gravitate toward the fast lane.   Passing someone is a lot more rewarding that keeping pace in the slow lane. I get it. Guilty as charged, ya know.   Patience, on the other hand, is a discipline. In my brief experience in the military, I was taught patience.   Most of the time it was in a twisted sort of way, like “hurry up and wait”.   Think about that for a moment.   You are given the emergency of ten seconds to be som...

The Force of Divorce (part 1)

I don’t think we truly understand what divorce is and why God hates it. For example, if I gave you the Merriam Webster’s definition of divorce, the action or instance of legally dissolving a marriage , more than likely you'll find that definition insufficient. If you are divorced or your parents are divorced, you know that definition lacks depth and substance. It’s like a survivor of a devastating hurricane describing his experience as “I witnessed a tropical cyclone with winds of 156 mph that was accompanied by heavy rain thunder and lightning.” You know that surviving a category 5 hurricane is bit more involved than announcing a weather report. (Ask anyone who survived Hurricane Katrina.) And yet every survivor’s story is unique and personal. I especially believe we don’t get what divorce does to our children. I’m not saying that I completely understand it either. I’ve never been divorced, (not even close), but I do know how it affected me as a kid. ...