On this Father's Day weekend, it is difficult for me to believe that it has been 18 years since Dad's death. He died much too young (67) in 1995. I was almost 24 and in my first year of seminary at the time, and it is no exaggeration to say that helping care for him at home (along with Hospice staff and my Mom & siblings) changed the direction of my life and ministry.
Dad was born in 1928 in a small community in the mountains of East Tennessee. His mother died when he was 8, and his father moved the family across the state line into Western North Carolina. His father never remarried. Dad left school after the 6th grade, and grew up farming and logging alongside his father. He always said that he was a "little too young" to be drafted during WWII, and a "little too old" to be among the first called into military service during the Korean conflict. He was drafted into the U.S. Army toward the end of this war, and experienced the farthest-ranging travel of his life during his time in military service. As we were growing up, he would recount his experiences traveling through Texas, California, and to Japan. Dad had a wry sense of humor, and would tell about arriving in Korea 24-48 hours after the Armistice was signed with a comment that the timing was "just fine with me." He did complete a little more education during his time in the Army, finishing the equivalence of 8th grade. He also joked about avoiding more "risky" assignments in the military, relating an account of an officer seeking recruits by appealing to ego/machismo. Apparently this guy was seeking volunteers to try for a more elite unit (maybe Rangers or something like that?) by telling the group he "wasn't looking for boys, we need men!" Dad would kind of shrug and say "I decided I was still a boy" and stayed with his unit as a tank driver. Following his military service, Dad returned home and rarely left the mountains of NC/TN for the rest of his life.
Dad worked as a pulpwood logger, and as a farmer on rented property, until back injuries required that he stop logging. He continued to farm, supplementing his income with factory work at times as well. Dad began dating Mom after he returned from the Army, and they were married in 1955. After a honeymoon in Gatlinburg, they moved in with my paternal grandfather for a few years. Dad was always a joker, and while Mom had met her future father-in-law, she had never visited his house before this time. The snow in the mountains in January/February required them to leave Dad's car at my uncle's house nearby and finish the trip to my grandfather's house on foot. As they passed the small church & cemetery (where they are now buried) they only had to walk over one more hilltop to see the house. Mom was getting tired, and asked how much farther they had to go. Dad responded "oh, we're about halfway there" while pointing at a more distant ridge. (I think this story was funnier to Mom when retelling it later than it was in the moment...) As they topped the ridge, Mom saw my grandfather waiting at the door to welcome them in. They soon started a family, and their first son died as an infant. My parents had 6 daughters and 2 more sons (I am the 7th of 8 surviving siblings).
My father did not have the advantages of education or significant financial resources, but he was one of the smartest and hardest-working men I have ever known. He had a firm conviction about what he believed was right and wrong, and a strong faith (though he was not consistently active in a local church). One of my earliest memories of church includes Dad holding me when I was a young boy, and carrying me to the altar area when much of the congregation was coming forward for a time of prayer. Dad had his weaknesses and flaws, as all of us do as humans, and in my opinion the two areas he struggled with most were insecurity and anger. I believe he was a very good man, but a man who was raised in a harsh environment and circumstances, and some of this was reflected in his attitudes and mannerisms.
Dad was also a quiet and introverted man. He enjoyed spending time with family and close friends, but would avoid or quietly escape many social settings. Our house was positioned on a hill, with the side yards sloping down toward the back with a walkout basement. On multiple occasions, I can remember folks stopping by the house and Mom happily engaging in extended conversations with them. If Dad was home at the beginning of the visit, he would quietly find his way downstairs and out the back door within a few minutes. He would usually drive down to the farm, and then spend a few hours checking the progress of his crops or working on his equipment and preparing tools for the next chore.
Dad worked hard to provide for us, moving from an early life in his father's home to renting houses for his growing family. He also transitioned vocationally from working alongside my grandfather to purchasing his own equipment and renting farmland. He eventually built our home (around 1970) and then purchased a small farm (about 50 acres) in 1980. He completed our house about a year before I was born, and I lived there with my parents and siblings until moving away for college. My parents lived in this house, situated on about an acre of property, for the rest of their lives. Each of them was cared for by family and Hospice staff at the end of their lives, and passed away peacefully in their home.
In my opinion, my Dad did more with less advantages than anyone I have ever known. He provided for the needs of a growing family, raising 8 children to adulthood and living faithfully with Mom for 40 years. He was able to move from living in his own father's house to building our home and purchasing a farm and equipment, leaving property and a small inheritance to us after their deaths (I have siblings who live on the farm property today.) He loved his children and grandchildren, and my Mom "Jenny" was the love of his life.
I had the privilege of assisting him as his health declined, and will remember some of the conversations and shared experiences in those final months and weeks for the rest of my life. Mom & I were taking turns caring for him at the end, and on the night of his death I was scheduled to sit with him during the night. Mom came to tell me that he had asked her to stay with him, and Dad passed away peacefully a few hours later with Mom at his side.
Dad, I look forward to seeing you again.
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