Memorial Street

Yesterday I was at a memorial service for my Dad. If I ever had doubt that he was a kind and gentle spirit those doubts disappeared as people who were business associates, colleagues, students of, or just friends came to me one after the other to tell me how kind, caring, and genuine my Dad was.

Roy, a guy I knew when I was a kid and would visit my Dad’s TV station, came up to me and said that Dad was the kind of guy who cared for the people he worked with. Who nurtured and supported them so they could get ahead. Roy told me about how he moved his way up the career ladder from a guy who kept the library of film to an editor (maybe before he was actually ready). All along my Dad knew how to encourage and teach those around him so they could reach their potential. He tried to hide them behind his sunglasses but I saw the tears that came to his eyes as Roy said how much he loved and missed my Dad.

I was able to place names with faces as all these people from Dad’s past came to pay their respects. Two of his close friends, Ken & Dave, talked about Dad’s accomplishments and his heart. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place as we all remembered how loving and generous he was.

After the service we had some time to visit with each other and share remembrances and I especially enjoyed speaking to Dave who was my Dad’s closest friend over the last 20 years. Dave has the grin of Old St. Nick and you could feel the warmth of his friendship with my Dad in the way he spoke of him.

Even though we came to honor my father there was an underlying stress to this event. A tension that stemmed from someone who deep down inside didn’t feel like sharing. A person who the world revolves around and loves the spotlight but hates criticism. Avoiding those things that are hard to accept and returning to apologize the next day to those offended when it’s already too late. This person is frustrated because even though the person thinks they are saying the right thing most of the time it is not about what you SAY but what you DO that defines your character. Certainly people mourn in different ways but it is offensive when one persons mourning has damaging effects to other mourners. This certainly can’t be good for the offender either.

I wonder what goes on in the head of a person like this.
I wonder what they dream of.
I wonder if there is any chance that this person will change or if they’re an old dog who has long since given up on new tricks.

I just fall back to my standard mantra these days:
“What would Dad have wanted?
What would he do?
What would he want me to do?”