I am not supposed to be standing up here in front of you right now. My father is not supposed to be dead, not at 64, not when he had just found a slice of heaven, not when he was finally happy again.
I recall little of my childhood, but I remember fondly dad's quiet wit and ever present middle finger come photo opportunities, nights of rating gourmet dinners prepared to perfection by mom and of futile morning attempts at bacon thievery. I remember so many sailing trips dreaded because I wouldn't be able to play ball with my friends all summer but that now, as the pace of life quickens to a point that the summers run together, I long to just climb aboard and to be once again awoken to mom's cry of "North" and then lullabyed back to sleep by the heavy, steady chugging of the boat's diesel engine, all the while guided along by a man whose mischievious little grin speaks volumes about his happiness.
I wish I had paid more attention to dad while growing up, to tap more into that expansive mind of his. I watched as he turned den and sewing room into one, took apart our cars for the sole purpose of putting them back together again, watched as he spent hours tinkering around in his workroom and on his boats and I wish I had paid more attention, asked more questions. He was a man who could build anything, fix anything, create anything. I'm just starting to fully realize the effect dad had on me, just how much of a role he had in making me the man I am today and I wish I had taken more notice.
I've had a hard time dealing with this, to this day it does not feel real. I know all of us here feel the same way on some level, the death of a loved one can numb deeply. I cannot imagine the depth of pain and sorrow my mom feels, losing her center of 37 years, but I am so grateful for the love and support this community has for her and dad.
I cannot say I understand life, the meaning of that plan that is supposedly guiding our way. I can't find the why in all of this, the reasoning, and don't know that I ever will, but that is the journey of life, sometimes it is not meant to be understood, but it always teaches. Hearing all of your stories I learned just how important dad was to every life he touched and gained a better understanding into the depth of his presence. Dad's passing is a sorrowing reminder of the frailty of life and that every moment we have is as precious as we choose to make it, how every day we have a chance to grow and guide.
Dad touched all of our lives quietly, but he left an indelible mark. He never was one for many words, but when he spoke you always found yourself listening. I know all of us in this room have a story about dad to tell, tales of being saved from mean twins voicing threats of locked ovens and tales of salvaged engines mid vacation thanks to a bearded and bespectacled man, tales of lives touched and lives saved. We will all truly miss dad, but we will feel his presence when Beethoven's fifth fills a room, whenever a middle finger is slyly flashed in a photograph or anytime we find ourselves tinkering in, on and around boats.
We say good-bye to you dad, but only in words, for you will always be with us, in our hearts and in our thoughts, in our prayers and our aspirations. We love you for teaching us the ways of the world and life and passing along your love of the beauty of water. Please watch over mom and all of us, please help guide and protect us. Good-bye dad. As Betty so eloquently spoke, "May you have fair winds and following seas" the rest of your journey.
