7 years since Dad died

Oct 13

This was the speech I wrote in honor of my dad. He died October 12, 2018 after slowly leaving us, piece by piece, due to Alzheimer’s.

It’s been 7 years, Dad. We still miss you so much.

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I am Melissa, David’s 3 rd daughter. Knowing that many would talk about Dad’s accomplishments and passions, I wanted to take a moment to remember his personality and some tidbits of day-to-day Dad.

Dad was a unique mix of serious and silly, of refined and ridiculous. He was symphony meets barber-shop-quartet. He dressed well – oxford button down shirts, slacks, dress

shoes and ties. But never flashy ties, definitely no cartoons or neon colors. But he would also work outside in an old undershirt, sweaty and smelling of freshly cut grass, or

would unashamedly get on his hands and knees to remove the deeply offensive tiny little weeds trying to ruin his landscaping.

He cared about etiquette. A frequent deliberation at dinner was which direction to pass the food, whether holding your fork face down is ever acceptable, and which silverware

was appropriate to use. He truly cared about the answer. He was polite and a team cheerleader but playing board games was funny because he never wanted anyone to

lose. He enjoyed deep discussions, was a good listener, and was highly empathetic and affected by other’s pain. He was easy-going, but not laid back. Approachable but few

missed his genius.

Dad was distinguished, but on the other side of him was this silliness… this innocent goofball whose jokes were never crass or at someone else’s expense. His humor was

simple. Mostly centered around irony, puns, noises or exaggerated facial expressions. So, I wanted to recount some of our favorite faces of Dad.

The thinking face he made when he would stare at math problems, leaning back in his chair. Brows slightly furrowed, possibly chewing on the end of his pen.
The goofy face he made when he wanted to chase and tickle a child – wide-eyes but eyebrows lowered he would stalk, growling with hunched shoulders after the giggling target.
The goofy face he made when he wanted to chase and tickle - our mother. Almost the same as the last one, but this face had sparkly and mischievous eyes, included more whispers, neck kisses and a different kind of giggling... and causing the daughters to groan in annoyance.
The tender face he made when he was overcome with emotion. Eyebrows pulled up in the middle, mouth gentle, his eyes would shine with tears. In our victories or accomplishments, it was the face of pride. At our weddings, it was love. In worship, it was adoration for the One he always gave thanks to.
The determined face he made when he would valiantly race outside to catch us leaving in the car for school, holding 3 tiny cups of vitamins and 3 small glasses of - inevitably - warm water. A man on a mission, eyes intense. And his face of happy victory immediately after we had successfully swallowed the handful of pills and climbed back into the station wagon. A hero whose smile and wave said, “my work here is done.”
The dramatic face he made pretending to be intimidated by our strength when as a child he would let us squeeze his thumb as hard as we wanted while mom cleaned up a skinned knee.
The vacant face he made when he would walk by the living room and accidentally get sucked into a TV show. Standing frozen, his eyes would lock on the show and over time his mouth would fall open. Mom said it wasn’t his most intelligent look. And a different TV face - The shocked and horrified face he made when he walked in during the one slightly pg-13 part of ANY MOVIE, and then pronounced to the room full of his daughters friends, “NOT IN MY HOUSE!” and turned it off.
The exultant, slightly crazy face he made at his daughters’ volleyball games, while slamming heavy dress shoes on the bleachers to a rhythm, blowing duck calls and loudly cheering, and sometimes wearing his tie around his forehead like Rambo.
The fascinated face he made when he was learning something new. He would lean forward, eager, mouth slightly ajar with bright-eyes fixed on the speaker but you could tell his mind was working, analyzing. He was an extremely intelligent man, but he made time for other people’s stories and experiences. This is actually the face I might miss the most. I miss seeing his mind work. But I believe this is one of the victories that he is experiencing now. Maybe he is learning from and sharing his discoveries with the famous mathematician and philosopher Réné Déscartés. Or hanging out with Newton. Or learning the mysteries of the universe from Jesus. His mind has been restored. He is David truly again and for that I am very grateful.

We remember you, Dad. We honor your life and we see you in ours. I see you in how I parent, in how I teach and give. And I see you in my children. When I see silliness and joy in Bryleigh, gentleness and care in Shiloh and wit and quick learning in Lily, I am reminded of you. Thanks, Dad. We love you.