My funeral talk

I’ve been trying to come up with a title for my talk with you today.  And my dad always taught me to make lists when I feel overwhelmed.   So here are some of the titles I came up with.

1. How do I do this?
2. Will I make him proud?
3. Can I tell a dad joke without messing up the punch line?
4. Will you guys laugh?
5. Will I cry?
6. Honoring his life.  No matter what.
7. He finished his race.
8. Can I bring a security blanket up here?  Or a kitten?
9. Is there a guidebook for this?

You get the point.  I’ve been writing about my journey with my parents for years, as many of you know.  I know how to say words.  I know how to share my feelings.  But this… THIS is different.   I started writing my talk a couple weeks ago.   That’s not the one you’re hearing today.  Because when he took his last breath and went to heaven… suddenly, all my words came to a screeching halt.  And nothing I can say could ever be good enough to honor a man like Frank Chipman…My dad.

So I’m going to tell you some of my favorite things about him.

1.My dad was a family man.  5 children.  22 grandchildren. 6 great grandchildren.  And one beautiful wife.  

If you are lucky enough to be in that group, you know that he loved you well.  And that at any given moment, you were “HIS FAVORITE”.   

If you smiled at him, you were his favorite.

If you laughed at his jokes, you were his favorite.

If you remembered that he liked Pepsi over Coke, you were his favorite.

If you brought him chocolate, you were his favorite.

If you sang with him, you were his favorite.

If you helped him around the yard, you were his favorite.

If you loved your parents well (this is for the grandchildren…) you were his favorite.

If you gave him hugs, you were his favorite.

If you gave MOM hugs you were his favorite.

If you scratched his back, you were REALLY his favorite.

I loved that about him.  We all joke in our family about being the favorite, but the reality of the situation is this… we all were.   He was SO proud of you guys. Proud to be your dad.  Proud to be your granddad.  Proud to be your great granddad.  WE were his favorites.

2) That’s how he lived his life… working hard to make other people feel noticed, appreciated, valued.   I asked for people to share some memories of Dad with me the other day.   The overwhelming theme was that HE. WAS. KIND.   He never had a bad thing to say about anyone.  He appreciated the people who worked hard behind the scenes.

I’d like to think some of that rubbed off on our family.  His compassion was unmatched.  He would give you the shirt off his back.

One of his favorite aides told me this story from just a few months ago.   She was working hard on the memory care unit where he lived.  Grueling work.  Emotional work.  IMPORTANT work.  He asked her if she was tired.  And she said “yes, Frank. I am.”   He suggested she take a nap.  She told him she had to work to pay the bills.    So he proceeded to dig through all of his pockets to see if he had any money to give her, so that she could take a nap and rest, and not have to worry.

Alzheimers Dementia may have stolen so much from us, but his heart was still there, up until the very end.   

That story made me so incredibly proud.  Proud to be his daughter.  Proud to be his caregiver.  Proud to be his person over the last few years.

3) My dad LOVED my momma.  WOW, did he ever love her!  He worked so hard for as long as I can remember to provide for her.   He told her she was beautiful every chance he had.  He loved her cooking, and told her so often.   He would take on little projects for her just to make her happy.  He loved it when she was proud of him for something he had built.  Their relationship had its ups and downs, like all marriages do.  They leaned on their faith, and their deep love for each other to sustain them.  

About three years ago, I moved them into the memory care facility.  They definitely won the award for cutest couple ever there.  They looked out for one another, and supported each other on the good and bad days. One time about a year ago, I said to them, “I’m so glad you guys get along so well.   They looked at each other and laughed.  Dad said, “well, if we fight now, 5 minutes later we can’t remember why we were mad at each other.”

Beauty in the darkest places.

4) My dad was a light seeker.  He looked for the joy even when it was hard.  I know the last 7-8 years have been so hard for a guy like him, losing his memory, confusion setting in.  I know that the strength that I’ve had to walk this journey hand in hand with him came very honestly from watching how he handled curveballs in life.   Finding the silver linings.  Searching for the positives.  HOLDING ON TO THE JOY.

5) His sense of humor was corny and ridiculous, at best.  And I adored him for it.  Flipping his dentures around became his go-to move.  and it drove my momma crazy.  But she still laughed.  And so he kept doing it.  His quick wit often got him in trouble.  Especially with Mom.  You know how men like to try to make women laugh, but women don’t want to laugh, so they stifle the smiles and pretend to be mad, which only encourages the men?  I feel like that describes their relationship perfectly.  He always wanted her to think he was funny.   And as you know, there is a time and a place for “dad jokes”, as Mom loved to point out.  Despite her being a little stubborn with him, 9 times out of 10, he could make her smile.  Just a month ago, I went to visit him.  And I said, “What are you up to today, Dad?”  OH.  About 5’6”.”   Every.single.time.   And every single time I laughed.  Because that was him.  And HE was still in there, even when his mind was fading.   And that was such a gift to us.

6)My dad loved eagles.  The way they soar.  The way they are feared, and revered.  The way they are graceful and majestic.  When he worked in his foundry, he would often create artwork of eagles and mount the pieces on beautiful wood as wall hangings.

Toward the end of this journey,  I was driving to the nursing home after a call that he had had a rough day.  Serendipitous timing brought my car next to a semi-truck that had the following scripture printed on the back of the truck.

        “They that wait upon the Lord, will renew their strength.  They shall mount up with wings as eagles.  They shall run and not grow weary.  They shall walk and not grow faint.”

I hadn’t thought about how much he loved eagles (and this scripture, actually) in years.  This is exactly what he wanted.  Wings like eagles.  No more weariness.  A sharp mind. And a strength from above that he so desperately needed.

——

Dad,

Thank you for being my dad.  Thank you for picking me flowers.  And for always wanting to share your food with me, EVEN your chocolate.  Thank you for teaching me to be tough on the outside, but to have a soft heart on the inside.   Thank you for teaching me how to look for light in the darkest places.  Thank you for showing me strength.  Thank you for loving our family.  Thank you for setting an example of hard work, compassion and faith.  Thank you for always ALWAYS holding my hand.  Up until the very end.   Thank you for teaching me to dream big.  Thank you for fighting a good fight, and for showing us just how tough your big heart was.

Rest easy.  Find some puppies.  And enjoy this eternal gift of heaven that you waited for your whole life.  We’ll take care of Mom.  I promise.