My dad was born on 25 February 1935 a little before 8 in the morning. My dad died on 25 February 2010, a little before 8 in the morning.
Turning 75 was the last, big goal he had.
He was sitting in his comfy chair, having refused to go to bed the evening before when mom and I tried to help him up.
He was tired of fighting, tired of not being the one to help others, tired of not being able to do for himself those basic things we all take for granted.
I help moderate a list for new members of the AFA, we answer their questions, pose those of our own and like to give examples...I was trying to write a poem of how to know a worthy life and my dad came to mind (this was written several days before he passed - [Copyright 7 February 2010, Steven P Robinson] ). My mom, seeking to protect me, had not let me know that dad was in hospice care. I went home expecting a birthday party, and got a Parting instead.
It is what it is...
He taught me that "woulda," "shoulda," and "coulda" are the three most toxic words in the English language.
Heck, I think think he passed on when he did to make it easier on everyone, as we were gathering for his birthday anyhow.
Here's the full eulogy I spoke at his Funeral Mass, which began 10 AM, 1 March, 2010. Even the priest (who did know my dad a little) thought it was good.
One thing I did not say; my dad, Stewart, was a man of deep faith in the Holy as he saw It, which was Roman Catholic in worldview. He was devout, but he accepted (not merely tolerated) that folks, including his children, believed different. He told me and my siblings so.
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I try to understand the world around me and do a lot of my thinking by writing poetry.
In trying to understand my dad's life as an example of a worthwhile life, I wrote the following, and a few other observations.
Tell me, Show me...
You can tell a man, but not too much,
Unless he is ready to hear.
You can show a man, but not too much,
Unless he is ready to see.
This is the way the wide world turns,
Between the skies and the waters;
That some will live their life in full,
And others will merely survive.
How does one live a worthy life,
And craft strong Fate and gain good Luck?
How does one know a worthy life,
And speak true words for common good?
It starts at birth in Family,
To parents dear, who'll raise you up,
To learn and grow, to know your Folk,
To find a way to better self.
Among the things from Kin and Kith,
Which shape the thoughts we have of world,
We gain beliefs and points of view,
Which shape the way we face each day.
And as we grow from Childhood,
To Youth, to Teen and then Adult,
We gain more thoughts from wider world,
To goad the mind, become more whole.
But roots we have from Kin and Kith,
They'll hold us fast, if we hold on,
To good, true ways with wisdom's strength,
Take care of those we know and love.
Take hold, take care, be strong, be true,
To learn and think, to speak and do,
In this we'll gain, build up good Name,
For this is heart of worthy life.
And at the end of all our years,
When we tread on that Final Walk,
And stand before our Holy Ones,
Upright and proud, as well we should.
You can tell a man, but not too much,
Unless he is ready to hear.
You can show a man, but not too much,
Unless he is ready to see.
This is the way the wide world turns,
Between the skies and the waters;
That some will live their life in full,
And others will merely survive.
My dad was not a survivor, he lived life in full.
He was his own man, who did right by family, friends and community.
He was proud, but not prideful.
He was private, but shared of himself.
He wanted stability, but accepted difference.
He was reserved, but he trusted.
He loved words, but wasn't wordy.
He was wealthy in the things that matter most.
I am proud to be his son and did well enough to earn his pride in me.
He always seemed to have a plan, and always left on time.
Dad, thanks for stopping by...
(and as I passed his casket on the way back to my seat, I paused, placed my hand over him and said...)
So long, Old Scout, you can walk in the woods whenever you want now...
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