My dad was the kind of good, decent man that I always aspired to be, but never came close. His humanity was way beyond my reach. I feel immense sorrow at losing my dad, and I make no apologies for sharing my grief with the world.

I suppose one could attribute it to naïveté, but I thought I was prepared for my dad’s death - after all, he had been gravely ill for several weeks, so his death was not unexpected. However, when I saw him lying peacefully in his casket, I was devastated. It was difficult for me to accept the fact that this good, kind, decent man would no longer grace the world - and my life - with his presence.

I did not return to my family’s hometown to mourn my dad’s death. No, I returned to be with my mother, family, friends, relatives and those who loved and respected my dad, to celebrate and commemorate his life, the life of an uncommonly honorable, decent human being.

He would not want me to be sad, for he lived a full life, and his suffering from cancer and other ailments is mercifully over. However, I am very selfishly sad. When I call my parents, I will never again be able to speak with him and hear his voice and his telling of some really bad jokes. I laughed at my dad’s jokes - not because they were funny - but because I loved the way he laughed at his own bad jokes. It was hilarious and I couldn’t help but laugh that he laughed at jokes that, in my opinion, were not funny. When I return to Shelby, Ohio, for my infrequent visits, he will not be there to give me a big, warm, hug and to escort me around the small town where I grew up, to show me how things have changed since my last visit. Oh, how I will miss seeing him, and talking with him, so very much.

My dad was active in his church and the retirement community in which he and my mother lived. He was loved and respected by everyone who knew him, because he was truly a sharing, giving, loving, kind human being. He truly did live the “Golden Rule”. He was willing to lend a hand, or share his time with anyone who asked.

My dad was a man who took pride in giving his best effort in every undertaking in which he participated. He was an honorable man who invariably did the right thing. I am so incredibly privileged that he chose to be my dad. When he met my mother - the woman who was to become the love of his life - she already had a baby. When they dated, they took that baby along with them, almost everywhere they went. Can you imagine that? I loved hearing his stories of their courtship, and my part in it. When he proposed marriage - and my mother asked him, “Lester, what about my baby?” - he responded, “Bessie, he is part of you, and I will love and support him, as I do you”..... and that is precisely what my dad did. He gave me all the unequivocal love and support that he gave his own flesh and blood offspring, my three younger siblings. I could not have asked for a better, more supportive father, but I could have been a better son - at least in my younger years, growing up as a very rebellious kid.

A tear would come to his eye whenever he heard “The Star Spangled Banner”. He was a patriot who loved his family, friends and country, unequivocally - so my family gave him a military funeral, with 21-gun salute. He was buried in the very same dress uniform he wore when he was a young Navy seaman, serving in the South Pacific, during World War II. He was proud of that uniform and kept it in such unbelievably pristine condition all of these years. He would have been immensely proud of the American flag that was draped over his casket during the graveside memorial, and presented to my mother by active-duty Navy personnel, who expressed words of appreciation for his military service. When the beautiful, haunting “Taps” was performed by my cousin Sara at the conclusion of my dad’s graveside memorial, my nephew, brother-in-law and I - as former military men - stood and saluted, in honor of my dad. It was not until that moment that I finally came to grips with reality. I was not having a nightmare. My dad - my hero - was gone.

Right now, my heart is full of pain and I feel such incredible sorrow. At night, when I am alone with my thoughts, the tears fall like raindrops, and I am like a little boy again, crying out for my dad. I know that my pain and sorrow will eventually abate; but at least for now, it is difficult to face the world with a positive attitude. At least for now, without my dad, my world is a colder, darker place. The sun doesn’t shine as brightly, the birds don’t chirp as cheerfully and the breeze doesn’t blow as gently.... at least not for me.