I had a reminder today that some of the best wisdom comes from being reminded of something we already know, but possibly need to refocus on in our life. This moment came to me through the eulogy of a great man I am better for having known, Don Reynolds. Today Don was laid to rest after a beautiful Masonic service, a tribute by the VFW, and a moving divine service by one of his good friends. The moment that really made me think however, came from the person who delivered his eulogy on behalf of the family, his daughter.
A soon as she rose to speak, I was already thinking about the eulogy I delivered for my dad just over a year ago. It was the single hardest thing I’ve ever done, but one of the best moments of my life. I could tell from the way she spoke about her dad, she probably felt the same. She spent some time remembering who her dad was, but also how he made others feel. She recounted his style of conversation, and love of friends and family. But then it hit me like a ton of bricks. She shared how her dad taught her all life’s lessons, how he guided, but let her learn for herself. She told a few stories about how he gave her opportunities to grow as she helped with the little things, and then was given more responsibility over the years. In short, she shared with all of us how his way of teaching and guiding her over the course of a lifetime molded her into the independent, self-sufficient woman she is today.
I immediately thought of my little girl, Laura, who I adore with all the fiber of my being. I know that what I say and do around her affects her life, but I guess I hadn’t spent much time lately thinking about what she’ll remember when she’s much older looking back on time spent with her dad. She and I go on hikes, we play board games, talk about life, and laugh a whole lot. I’m blessed to spend much more time with her than some dads have, and because of my flexible schedule, she and I get to have some quality time together almost every day.
The more I thought about it though, those times matter, but the real moments occur without notice sometimes. Do I treat people fairly and with respect even when nobody is looking? Do I do the right thing? What messages do I send to her that I don’t even realize?
Well, I do my best to love others, but I fall short. I don’t have much patience with bad drivers, and I don’t have much tolerance for inconsiderate acts. I help others whenever I can, but will she remember more the times I fail?
I thought about this today, and I came to one conclusion. I like everyone else sometimes fail even though I have good intentions. I win some and I lose some. I give and I take. The conclusion is I am human, and I think she’s smart enough to know that. I think kids are smarter than we give them credit for sometimes, and if I keep trying, if I keep listening, and I keep investing all I have in her, all will work out fine.
Maybe after all the years I have left, she’ll remember her dad as someone who loved her more than anything in the world. If so, then I did okay after all.
