I'd like to begin this post by thanking everyone who has been following along this week. It's been a busy week, professionally, personally, and emotionally. But I can't deny how valuable this experience has been. While I have pretty much choked up every morning, I have also smiled and laughed many times through the tears recalling the wonderful memories I have of my father. I am so blessed, not only for the time I had with him, but in the way he is memorialized now, with all the lives he touched sending me their thoughts and love all week. What can possibly compare?
Last year on this day, I did a commemoration on my blog of the day my Father passed, moment by moment and feeling by feeling.
This year, I have typed up the speech I delivered at his funeral - held the following Friday 6 years ago. For those who attended, this will be familiar to you. Some of you may even recognize references to things I have already talked about this week... Either way, I hope you all enjoy, and offer a smile for my Father, my family, and all those IN your life, and those who TOUCH your lives. Bless you all. Enjoy Today. Enjoy Friday.
"To begin with, I’d like to thank, on behalf of my family, the Foothills Alliance Church, and all of our friends who have done so much to make this day easier.
In my little experience with funerals, I have always gone to ones for people I knew by association. Never someone I knew directly. And I always wondered if it was appropriate for me to be there. I now know that sort of thing doesn’t matter. Some of you are here because you knew Dad well. Some of you are here because you know Bonnie, or you know Adam, or you know me. Or, you may know someone who knows Bonnie, or Adam, or me. For whatever reason, and however indirectly, you were a witness to my Father’s life, and for that reason, you belong here, and we all thank you for coming.
My father touched a lot of lives, and knew a lot of people as evident by the crowd here today. We always had this joke going that if Dad was ever seen talking to the Pope, someone would probably approach me and ask “hey, who’s that guy with Doug?”
I plan on speaking today though about my Dad as a parent. For most of you, you’ll know this was an area where he really shone.
When I was really little, Dad would play this game with me that we affectionately called “the golfball.” He would pretend to hide a golf ball in his pant leg, while secretly keeping it in his hand. Then, I would be so surprised when it would magically turn up in my belly. Equally impressive was when he hid it in MY pantleg, and it turned up in HIS belly.
As I got a little older, Dad would often take me along when he was working. We would have to enter and exit many buildings during a typical workday, and he would almost always, given the opportunity, pretend to get stuck in the revolving doors. There he’d be going ‘round and ‘round while I’d be in hysterics on the sidelines. There would be a line-up of people waiting to use the doors, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted to make me laugh.
When my brother was born, I was old enough to appreciate more how good he was with children. His patience. His intuition. Every Tuesday, Bonnie and I would head of to Pioneer Girls, to which Adam was not welcome. Dad knew Adam felt left out on those nights, and it wasn’t long before Tuesday nights were themed “boy’s night.” I was not privy to knowing what went on during those evenings of male bonding, but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with chocolate and lego.
As my brother and I grew up, Dad strove to get us involved in different activities he enjoyed. One year we had a ski pass and got out skiing almost every weekend. During the summer, Dad would take Adam and I golfing, which I am hopeless at but at which Adam shows promise.
For many years, every Saturday morning, he’d round us up for Karate. ‘Course, oftentimes we only went ‘cause we knew we’d go out for lunch afterwards. But it was quality time I wouldn’t trade for anything.
I remember one time in Karate class, I began to yawn. For those of you not into martial arts, it is a deep sign of rudeness to yawn. My teacher, who spoke earlier, promptly corrected me “Miss Charman! No yawning in the dojo!” Much to everyone’s surprise, BOTH my father and I responded with the customary “yes sir!!” After a moment of silence, Mr. Winstanley replied “I said MISS Charman – Why, were you yawning too?” Busted!
Dad was a great father to my brother and I, and he would also go the extra mile for others. In grade nine, I was privileged to be selected to go on an exchange to Quebec. Each student was given a ‘twin’ – another student with whom they would stay when visiting Quebec, and vice versa when they came here. My ‘twin’ was a year younger than me, and had never been out of the province. As exciting as Calgary was, it was also very frightening, and she was often homesick. One night, my Dad heard her crying heavily, overwhelmed with the feelings of missing her family. Dad went in, took her in his arms and said, “Cette semaine, je suis ton Papa.” For the Anglophones here today, that translates to “For this week – I’m your Dad.”
Within the last few weeks, I’ve had many talks with my Dad. Many people have pointed out how much I resemble him, and during one such talk I smiled and said “Well hey, Adam and I get to think of you every time we look in the mirror.” He smiled, looked me straight in the eyes and said “I get to think of you guys always.”
My Father taught me many important life skills ranging from teaching me to drive, to showing me how to make perfectly golden marshmallows on a campfire.
Whether it was singing “Puttin’ on the Bibs” to the tune of Irving Berlin’s “Puttin’ on the Ritz” to my brother, or teaching me the Fox Trot for an upcoming wedding, Dad loved being a Father. And he was good at it.
The last thing I said to my Father was right after I kissed his forehead. I said “sleep well Daddy.” After all those years of him kissing me good night, in the end, it was my turn. Sweet Dreams Daddy."
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