My speech honoring Dad at his service …

Tough. If there’s been one word used to describe my dad during the past few days and weeks, that would be it.

As an 8-year-old, he overcame polio before the vaccine was invented. At a time when many of the children infected with the disease ended up with a handicap, Dad not only beat polio, but did so with a complete bill of health.

He was tough enough to battle through a difficult childhood that included running away several times.

As a teen and young man, he was constantly in trouble. There were dozens of fights, many of which he won. In those he lost, he survived a broken jaw, double vision and having a piece of his ear bitten off.

Of the latter, Dad said, “Can you imagine approaching women with a chunk of your ear missing? I had no chance.”

Surgery repaired the ear. Maturity repaired his wildness. His friend Jean Ann, wife Jane and his sons repaired his heart.

Dad softened a bit when he got married and had his two boys. But he was still tough. Tough enough to pull the family through several years of near poverty. Tough enough to work three jobs during the week and cut wood on the weekends. Tough enough to will a small crafting business to success.

Behind that grizzled, hardened shell, however, Dad was a kind, giving man.

Dozens of struggling people will remember him as The Leather Man who gave them a wallet or purse when they couldn’t afford it.

Others will remember that Dad joined the Masons because he wanted to help children in need. Countless times he stopped to give homeless people a few dollars.

My brother and I will remember that he moved us a number of times. In particular, I seemed to move every other week. Dad was there, of course, though he chastised me for loading up a computer box with 100 pounds of books.

As the years progressed, Dad mellowed. His grandchildren will remember birthdays and holidays. He was always there with a gift and money, usually $5. He was at baseball and basketball games, awards ceremonies, church functions and graduations.

Toughness served him well at the end. He fought through the unimaginable pain of bone cancer, rarely letting it get the best of him. When it did make him grouchy, Dad was quick to offer an apology, along with a hug and kiss.

As tough as he was, Dad struggled with one last hurdle as the end neared. He struggled with faith. Time and time again, he asked God to give him peace. Dad wanted to make sure he’d get to see his sons, grandchildren and daughters-in-law again. 

God gave him the answer he was looking for, along with peace, a few months before he died. There’s no doubt he drew from that peace to fight through a few more months until God was ready for him.