Bittersweet Defined

It's been almost five months since we said farewell to my dad. The grief process is a weird thing; most of the time, things are kind of back to normal, but then comes the emotional land mines. From out of the blue, a small random occurrence will trigger a brief tear-burst. Breath comes in and goes out, and then it's back to the routine, until the next time.

I had the privilege of writing dad's eulogy, and presenting it at his funeral. It is not easy to sum up one's life in a few words, but somehow, with help from all three sisters, we were able to put something together that reflected his time here on earth, as well as his love for the Lord that led itself to his new home. I enter it here as a marker, an ebenezer of sorts.

"On behalf of my mom, my sisters and our families, I’d like to thank you all for coming today to honor my dad. I also want to take a moment to publicly thank those who have cared for dad in the past few years. Dad spoke so highly of Dr. Rowena Manalo, Dr. R. Prince Davis and Nurse Practitioner Becky Christensen. We also want to thank the staff from Laurelhurst Village Rehab, Parkview Assisted Living and RN Villa for their care. Thanks also to the team from Kaiser Hospice, who not only provided care for dad, but were a great resource and support for our family as well. Finally, we want to thank the staff and church family here at Open Door Baptist for your kindness in reaching out to our family and opening your doors to us to honor dad in this way.

We’ve been thinking a lot about dad this week as we process his going home. Remembering the totality of who dad was has not been easy – he was a very complex and complicated man on some levels, very simple on others.

He had a strong work ethic; Dad worked hard his whole life. He spent time working at a gas station, driving trucks, as a chemist at Reynolds Metals, driving a tow truck, delivering oil and chemicals and as a mechanic. For a few years, he even ran a piano rental company out of our home. After a hard day’s work, he would eat dinner, then head out to work in the yard or the garden, or do car repairs until it was too dark to see. As his children, we thought dad could fix anything and he usually could. He was a problem solver and very thorough in all he did. He sacrificed things that he may have wanted to make sure his family had what they needed. He once quit a job he enjoyed because the hours didn’t allow him to see his children. Our education was very important to him, and he and mom both worked hard and saved to keep us in a Christian school for a number of years.

Dad loved music, and along with mom, he made sure our lives were filled with it. As a young man, he played trombone and piano, and continued to play and sing in choirs for a number of years. He developed a love for theater pipe organs, and made friends here locally, in various places across the U.S., and a special group of friends in Australia as they listened to a variety of artists. He spent hours reading and researching and days physically crawling through the dimly lit, dusty back rooms of churches, theaters, auditoriums and even an old grocery store learning about how pipe organs work and the nuances of wind chests, ranks and voicings.

Generally, people liked dad - he could be engaging and always had a story (or series of stories) to share no matter the situation. On one particular ICU stay, the staff shared with us that it was like taking care of Santa. Any time we stopped by to talk with dad, the hardest part was always leaving, because something about touching the doorknob triggered another story or conversation.

He had few close friends, but the ones he did lasted a lifetime. He met Mel Beachell back in the late 50’s, and the two bonded over shared work, hunting, fishing and swapping stories. Bill Blunk was a good friend and talented pipe organist, and the two spent many hours working on Bill’s massive pipe organ, moving it twice to new locations. In dad’s later years, he developed a special friendship with Bob Sadjak, where their conversations covered a variety of topics including spiritual matters.

Dad definitely had a mischievous side. When he was young, he picked up the nickname “naughty Jimmy”, but as an adult, he developed a fun-loving sense of humor – limericks, puns, or giving people pet names that he used each time he saw them. As kids, there were times we may have been embarrassed by his occasional goofiness, but as adults, we came to appreciate that fun loving spirit. Even as dad’s health declined, he would answer the question “How do you feel?” by holding up his hands, rubbing his fingers together and saying, “well, usually with my fingers.”

Dad was a unique mixture of thriftiness with a love of quality. His goal was to find something of such quality that he would never have to replace it. Once purchased, he made sure to take care of it so it would last. When it came to food, the same was true. Once he found something he liked, it became a long-term staple. Things like Reese’s Peanut Butter. Nalley’s Sweet Pickle Relish. Bob’s Red Mill Cookies. Chicken Cordon Bleu from the Meat Market. Honey Baked Ham. He saw value in the quality – regardless of price.

Dad grew up in a reserved and stoic era and though he rarely verbalized it or showed outward signs of affection - he loved his family deeply. He may have rarely told us he was proud of us, but we would hear it from others, because he had told someone else about something we had done.

Anybody can read through the facts of his life, but as I’ve been processing over the last few days, I’ve been pondering more about what his legacy is – what were the key traits of his life that have been modeled to his family, passed onto to his grandchildren and great grandchildren, and shared with all of you who knew him? Four key things items rise to the top…
• That hard work ethic. When my sisters and I met with my mom last Friday to view dad’s remains, for some reason I focused on his hands. Even then, you could see that these hands had not led an easy life – and yet he had worked diligently, persistently, consistently to provide for his family.
• The music – the joy that it brought him, the love for it he instilled in all of us, and the joy it brings us today because of it. Later on, as the service closes, you’ll hear one of his favorite Pipe Organ pieces – Bach’s Jig Fugue. This is not a somber piece, a dirge, a piece written to encourage quiet contemplation. It is as Bach intended it to be – a jig. A dance. A celebration of life.
• His deep love and commitment for his family. In just two short weeks, Dad and Mom would have celebrated their 65th Wedding Anniversary. Even in the last few weeks, where conversations came few and far between and the sharpness of mind that was always a trademark was all but gone, he proudly affirmed to one of the nurses’ aides that his 65th anniversary was coming, and named off the date.
• Most of all, his love for Jesus Christ. Of all of the things he could have passed on to us, this was the most important – that he had been redeemed, and was confident in his eternal home. Pastor Mel will talk more about that in just a moment.

In closing, I’ve heard the word bittersweet a great deal over the last few days. Bittersweet is an oxymoron – two words with almost opposite meanings, brought together to form a new word. Yes, losing my dad is definitely bitter – with tears shed, a heavy heart and an overall sense of weariness. And yet, I didn’t really lose him – I know exactly where he is. He is no longer in pain. By God’s grace and mercy, and dad’s belief in Christ, he is breathing in deeply for the first time in years. He is singing praises to God boldly, and maybe even dancing a jig. And that’s the sweetness that counters that bitter."