This was the eulogy that I read at my dad’s funeral. I want to continue to honor him in telling the complexity of truth, living in such a way, that is full-bodied and full-hearted.
Dad, I don’t think I told you enough. But I love you.
You hurt me so deeply, so often, yet I love you.
I don’t think my love is naive because my love is a bruised love.
Seasoned with blood and guts.
I still love you despite your best attempts to sabotage it.
I wish I could have told you before you left this earth, I wish I could have spoken with you even just one more time.
I would have told you again that I forgive you, that I love you.
That your shame is not the truest thing about you.
I found much of me in who you struggled to be.
I know you were proud of me, I know you loved me the best you could, I am glad you are no longer in pain.
I am glad you are no longer stuck in your shame and your debilitating self-hatred, I am so grateful you are liberated in every sense of that word.
My hope is God our father is whispering words of sweet affirmation to your prior insecurities, I hope God our mother is holding you close to Her chest, rocking and singing over you, again and again:
