I Gave My Father’s Eulogy At His Funeral
But I had been mourning the loss of the dad of my childhood for years
My parents were young in 1969 when I was born. My mom was twenty years old and my dad twenty-three. They were small-town high school sweethearts and when my mom turned nineteen, they married.
I am the oldest of three daughters and the dad of my childhood was young and fun. He was a practical joker who would dress up in an old black coat to chase and scare our friends at a slumber party. He would ride us around the house on his back like a horsey, and turn socks into living creatures who would jump at you when you least expected it. He bought us go-carts and four-wheelers so we could explore the farm. He was the one who had the patience and nerves of steel (did I mention he was a truck driver?) to teach us all how to drive.
As I grew older, I loved sharing with my dad whatever I was interested in, and since I read constantly, that list was wide-ranging and ever-changing. He always seemed to enjoy our discussions and my ponderings about the world. My mom was more practical and I can’t imagine having a philosophical discussion with her to this day — but my dad was a dreamer and a bit of a…
