Dear Dad
When mom asked if I wanted to share at your memorial I was honored and proud to.
But then I was faced with the task of figuring out what I should say. While I’ve preached hundreds of sermons, speaking at your memorial is one of the most difficult tasks I’ve ever been assigned. So I decided the best thing was just to write you a letter.
Dear Dad,
I had 48 years as your son but after all of those years I still have so many things to say. I never said “thank you” for everything you have meant to me.
I’ll always remember the time you told me the story of a few days after I was born. You told me that the doctors told you that, because of my glaucoma there would be a good chance I would be blind before I was a teenager. Someone involved with the adoption process told you and mom that because of my eyes you didn’t have to go through with the adoption. You replied “He’s our son,” to me; those are the most wonderful words I’ve ever heard. I honestly believe God used you and Mom to save my life.
Dear Dad,
The patience you exercised with me has got to have earned you some big-time rewards up there in Heaven.
Remember that time I smashed the Oldsmobile in to a tree on the side of the road? I hid at the Olund’s house because I was too scared to come home. It’s not that you were ever violent or unfair toward me, but I didn’t want that to be the time I pushed you too far because let’s be honest… Your hands were HUGE!
And then there was the time I was mowing the lawn during my middle school years. Looking back now, I can admit I was the worst.
I tried to mow in straight lines but often got distracted by shiny objects and made a mess of the yard. One of those times, you came and corrected me. In my rebellious youth I said those words that I have regretted since they left my mouth.
As you turned to walk away, I saw the hurt in your eyes. I wish I had apologized at the time.
It became something we never discussed again, but I wish I had told you how sorry I am.
The love you had for not just me, not just our family, but for so many people has been an inspiration.
So many people in this world seek recognition and prestige. But you lived out the calling on your life, to love and provide for your family as well as helping others, quietly with humility and grace.
Dad,
In the Amplified Bible Colossians 3:23 says “Whatever may be your task, work at it heartily (from the soul), as [something done] for the Lord and not for men.
Out of everyone I’ve ever known, there is nobody that embodied that verse more than you. You had a true servant’s heart. You were willing to do anything for your family. And when you had finished meeting our needs you were there for others. I can’t even begin to tell you how many people have told me how they had been blessed by you. And even when you didn’t think I was, I was watching and learning. You used your skills and gifts to bless God’s people. I didn’t get your skills in carpentry, but what I learned was to use the ones God gave me to be a blessing to others. That’s why I loved cooking for you. I loved to watch you enjoy and rave about how much you loved the meals I prepared. I only wish you could be here to taste the pulled pork I made for the luncheon today. It’s really good!
Dad,
One of the other things I witnessed while watching you was on the jobsites. You had a way of drastically changing the environment. It always shocked me when someone that didn’t even know you would cuss on the job and look over at you and say “sorry man.”
And when the occasional worker lost his cool all you had to do was raise a hand and softly say, “Hey buddy, take it down a notch.”
This is not to say that you weren’t a tough dude. I remember sitting at the dinner table one night as you explained to mom, Janet, and me why you were wearing a Band-Aid. I still can’t believe that, after you smashed your thumb at work, you wanted to relieve the pressure so you drilled a hole in your thumb nail! That’s tough!
Or the time that a stereo speaker fell off of the shelf and found it’s way to your shoeless foot. “Shucks!” you said as you turned to fetch the Duct Tape to wrap your foot.
But you were a gentle giant. You knew you never had to prove yourself. You didn’t demand respect; you earned it.
This brings me to my next point, Dad.
When I was young I got teased endlessly about my last name. I’ve heard them all…
Rotten apple, Rot gut, Rottweiler, or the one that cracked you and me up the most when I told you; “It’s a good thing your parents weren’t French, you might have been named Jacques.
It used to bother me. But as I got older and introduced myself to people something weird started to happen. Time after time they would say “Rot? Are you related to Neal Rot?” When I told them that I was your son they always went on to tell me what a great guy you were. I can honestly say that there was never an instance where someone had anything negative to say connected with your name.
I turned that in to motivation for my life. I want to continue the legacy you created. Often on jobs I’ve asked myself “What would Neal do?” And every time that I’ve chosen what you would do in a situation it’s turned out to be the right decision.
Dear Dad,
During those rebellious teenage years I did everything I could to prove how different you and I were. But as I got older I realized that everything good in me comes from listening, watching, and learning from you. I have witnessed your kindness, compassion, strength, integrity, and character. Those things and many more, are what made you my hero.
Dear Dad,
Do you know what my favorite advice from you is? You gave it to me the first time I brought Cheryl to the house here in Michigan. She had gone to the back room while you and I were still sitting at the dining room table. As soon as she was out of earshot you said “You’ve got to marry that one!” I followed that advice and it was the best decision I ever made. And you not only treated her like my wife, she became your daughter too.
Dear Dad,
Thank you for all of those times you drove us 30 minutes to church when I was a kid. Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, Awana nights, youth group nights, your devotion to training us in the ways of the Lord bought about a faith that I will carry all of my days.
It is because of your fanning the flames of faith that I am a pastor today. And it’s my faith that has helped me to celebrate the life you lived rather than mourn our loss.
It has helped me to accept that this life is temporary. And even though we live in a fallen world where disease and death are present, we are confident that there is an eternity with God when our time on Earth is done. So I can be filled with joy! I will see you again!
1 John 4:12 (NIV) says:
No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and His love is made complete in us.
Dad, you completed that love of God in so many lives.
I have often said that when tough times come we have two choices, we can turn away from God, or we can press in and seek Him.
Dad, our time of being blessed by you has come to an end. And it breaks our hearts. I miss you every day. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times in the past weeks I’ve wanted to pick up the phone, put it on speaker because you couldn’t hear me unless I had it right in front of my mouth, and talk to you.
Dad, there are people listening to me read this letter. I know that you would want them to know that you are “home.” You are no longer in pain, you don’t have to watch what you eat, and you never get tired (although I’m pretty sure your idea of Heaven includes some great nap times!)
If it’s okay with you Dad, I’m going to tell them along with you, how the best way that I can honor your memory is to seek God in this and every situation. And to follow the example you set in blessing others with what God gave. And I should probably tell them that if they have questions about how they can have the peace and hope that comes from making Jesus Lord, they can talk to me or Pastor Jeff during the luncheon.
Dear Dad,
The day after you died I came to Michigan to be with mom and Janet. I put on one of your shirts, ties, sweaters, and hats. They somehow brought me comfort. And I put on your watch. I’ve worn this watch every day since then. Even at its tightest adjustment it’s still big on me. I suppose it’s only natural that those giant hands of yours were attached to some pretty significantly large wrists. So quite often I will give my hand a little bit of a shake to get the watch facing the correct direction. Some times when I cook, wash dishes, or at night I take it off. On several occasions I’ve caught myself shaking to adjust the watch that isn’t even being worn.
After thinking about it I realized how fitting it is. It’s a reminder that even though you are not physically with me, there will be parts of you that will forever be present.
Dear Dad,
There are so many additional things I will miss:
I’ll miss how your belly bounced up and down when I made you laugh;
I’ll miss calling to tell you about my manly exploits in vehicle repairs.
I’ll miss you sitting in your chair and saying “Come here once” to summon me to talk to you.
I’ll even miss the expression on you face when I would say something that made you think I was the weirdest person you’d ever met
And I will miss so much more.
The last thing I wanted to say is something I’ve said before. Sadly I didn’t say it enough.
What I want to say once again is that Dad, I love you.
Proud to be your son,
Jimmy
