My Funeral Talk

I want to include the talk I delivered at Dad's funeral in the blog book, so I am including it here.  I did relate a story or two that are not in the talk, but I won't bother to insert them now.  I wanted to pay fitting tribute to Dad, and I hope I succeeded.

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I have had difficulty in writing my comments for this funeral because Dad has always been a larger than life personality and presence and finding words to pay appropriate tribute to him is hard.  I have wanted to find a balance of honor and humor and I may fall dreadfully short.

In Dad’s obituary we described him as creative, accepting, generous, and having a sharp wit.  As we have spoken to people about Dad and received wonderful messages of love, others have described him in such kind terms.  I want to share some of those with you. 

My cousin Kristen called him “Unconventional, outrageous, irreverent, huge hearted and profoundly kind.” 

A friend of the family, Maury Baker, said of Dad, “For a man with such a large and potentially intimidating frame, Larry was all heart. He loved to laugh and seemed to feed off of other people's happiness. He was such a great example to me of generosity and service. A philanthropist in every sense, we've all benefited from his willingness to help-and I'm sure he did far more anonymously.  From criminals to kings, he could get along with anyone and make them feel comfortable and valued.” 

Caitlyn Cox described him as “kind with a gruff exterior that was just a show because he was a marshmallow inside.” 

Lisa Christensen, a neighbor, said, “He had the kindest heard and looked after the underdog.  I was lucky enough to be that underdog at times.  Yet, when things were better, he still loved me the same.  I felt, like many others, I’m sure, that he had a special spot in his big burly heart just for me.”

Dad’s physical presence could be intimidating.  He was tall, broad, and bearded, and then he grunted and spoke loudly and said inappropriate and outrageous things.  But it was an exterior that hid a tender and spiritually sensitive heart.  Dad showed his love to many through his generosity and kindness, and I was the recipient of that.  I want to share a few examples.

When I was a freshman in high school, I played basketball.  Our team was terrible.  We probably played thirty games and won only one.  During the season, my dad brought my brothers to every single game, wherever it was.  My coach did not know my last name, he thought it was DeMartinez.  So Dad would come to the games and sit in the stands and cheer, yelling, “Put in DeMartinez!”  I know those basketball games were a trial to watch, but Dad was there every time. 

When I gave up basketball (quickly), I turned my focus to choir and drama which I enjoyed far more.  Although Dad did not enjoy either of these genres, he was again very supportive and came to my concerts and plays.  He even volunteered to video MacBeth when we performed my senior year, though I know it was more painful for him to have to sit through a Shakespeare play than it was to sit through a basketball game. 

When I was anticipating my mission call and we were discussing places I might go, we talked hopefully that I might go to the same area my mom had gone when she went on study abroad during college.  We talked about how great it would be to have my parents come pick me up.  My dad did not like to travel though.  It was uncomfortable for him, physically and mentally.  He just liked to be home.  When I received my call to the Switzerland Geneva Mission, the area my mother had, indeed, lived in, his first words were, “Well, I guess we’re going to go pick her up.”  He was true to his word and spent ten days in France and Switzerland, countries full of foreigners!  He was a good sport and complained very little even though he was totally out of his comfort zone.  It meant so much for me to have that time with my parents, just the three of us.  It was a gift to me.

Even more recently, Dad has bragged about me in a way that helped me see again how much he loved me.  Several years ago, when I was competing in triathlons, Dad would say, “My toughest child is my oldest daughter.”  At the beginning of June, I participated in an all women’s bike ride.  Though Dad was in a rehab facility and dealing with such difficult physical challenges, he called me the afternoon of the ride and wanted to know how it had gone. 

Although all these examples are about me, I know he has felt the same way about each of his children.  He thought of us as the best thing that ever happened to him, and I felt that often and repeatedly.  He was concerned about our well-being and wanted good things for us.  As Kent and I struggled with infertility issues, I know Dad hoped that we would be blessed with children.  In true Larry style, ignoring all tact and delicacy, he once asked me, “Katherine, are you and Kent having sex?” as if we had no idea how babies are made.  I think he wanted us to experience the same joy and fulfillment he felt as a father by having children of our own.  But in all our struggles, even during those times when at odds with each other, I know Dad loved us.

One day, Jason and Nicki Fuller came over to the house to see Mikayla.  When they came in, Dad was in the office at the computer and said hello to them.  As they went downstairs, Nicki turned to Jason and asked, “Why is Santa Claus in Mikayla’s house?”

            Jason replied, “That’s Mikayla’s dad.”
            With wide eyes, Nicki said, “Mikayla’s dad is Santa Claus?”

Dad has a Santa heart.  He loved Christmas, but he also loved people and willingly shared what he had to bless others.  He is a fine example to me that we received more joy when we give than when we get.

Dad’s physical appearance also masked a deeply spiritual person.  Even in his youth, Dad sought a spiritual connection with God.  He would go to mass on his own; his mother would drive him and then he would walk home.  I have watched him throughout my life sometimes struggle in his relationship with Heavenly Father.  But over the past ten years, he has made it a priority to draw closer to God and increase his faith in Jesus Christ.  He served as a missionary in the Church’s 12-step program, working through his own addiction issues as he helped others do the same.  I both admire and respect him for his example of continued dedication to the gospel and his efforts to improve himself. 

Within the past month, shortly before his death, Dad expressed a desire to work in the temple.  I was surprised by this, but so pleased too.  I worked in the temple for many years before Brandt was born and I loved it.  I thought it would be such a great thing for Dad.  Following his death I was speaking to my friend Paula, and I mentioned this to her.  She made such a profound comment about Dad.  For the past decade or more, Dad has worked as a bail bondsman, helping people get out of jail.  Dad was always friendly with his clients and accepted them as they are, where they are in their lives.  He was non-judgmental and said on several occasions that these were good people in bad situations.  Now, having completed the earthly portion of his life, Dad can now move on and continue to help people get out of spirit prison by teaching them the gospel.  He can continue to set souls free and I like to think of his earthly work as being a preparation for that heavenly work.

Earlier in the week I wrote the following on my blog.  I have been thinking a lot about what Dad is doing and how he is feeling.  Does he miss us like we miss him?  Does he wish he was still here, fighting the good fight, or is he so relieved to be done with this mortal part of his journey? Is he at all unhappy about the decisions we made in the last few hours of his lilfe?  Was he aware that we were all with him at the end, or was he so scared it wasn't really registering with him? Does he have regrets that he looks back on and wish he could change?  How is time metered in Heaven and will it seem like a long time for him until we are reunited as it will certainly seem for us?

In Alma 40:11-12 it says,

Now, concerning the state of the soul between death and the resurrection--Behold, it has been made known unto me by an angel, that the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from his mortal body, yea, the spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life.  And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow.

It sounds wonderful; to be happy and at peace, free from trouble and care and sorrow.  I believe my dad was a good and righteous man, doing his best to follow Jesus Christ, so I think he has returned to the presence of God.  Dad has not been happy the past several months; he has not been engaged or really interacted with us much.  I hope he is joyful where he is and that he looks down on us with peace and contentment at a life well-lived.  I hope he is so busy reconnecting with family and friends who have gone before that he hardly has a moment to miss us.

In the novel Captain Corelli’s Mandolin there is a wonderful passage about death.  It is included on the inside of your program.  It says,

When loved ones die, you have to live on their behalf.  See things as though with their eyes.  Remember how they used to say things, and use those words oneself.  Be thankful that you can do things that they cannot, and also feel the sadness of it.

I am sad that my dad is gone from us physically.  All my questions about what he is doing won't be answered.  However, I have felt our Father's comforting spirit over the past week.  I have had my faith and testimony of the saving ordinances performed in the temple strengthened and reaffirmed.  I have been blessed and touched by a tremendous outpouring of love from extended family and friends and know my family has felt that too.  I know that I will see my dad again.  I love him and I know he loves me.