Speech for Dad

 

The most important thing I want to say about my dad is that I grew up in a home with six unique personalities—and his bottom line was unconditional love. He made us feel supported and loved no matter what. He was never preachy about that; he just quietly walked the walk of a true family man. He was an excellent dad, then an excellent grandpa—and I don’t think I ever heard him brag.

He was wise and made smart choices, and he was always humble, never arrogant. He was helpful and so kind, but also tough and determined. He took care of himself and had the drive to help and protect others.

I have three stories to tell out of a million and three. We appreciate the local police department for which dad served, and we owe a debt of gratitude to his colleagues for being there for my family. As a funny twist though, when I went to my car the morning after dad passed in his home on 18th St., on my windshield I found a $30 fine for parking on the wrong side of the street. It gets better: On Saturday, I looked up the last text I ever got from dad, from late November: “Nick, park over on the right side of the driveway, winter ordinance is in effect.” He knew the rules. He was one step ahead.

My dad was in rough shape at the end, but as a reminder of his true heroic nature, especially for his beloved grandkids, I want to tell you that I got a T-ball set for my nephew when he was two years old. That summer we introduced Kaden to baseball in my mom and dad’s backyard. One sunny afternoon, dad put on a show and had himself a homerun derby, lofting the plastic ball in the air, quickly composing his batting stance, and clobbering that ball over the house onto the front yard in a high-arcing shot. He was in his 60s, still hitting dingers.

Finally, we all got to say goodbye on his last day. Knowing it was a matter of time, my brothers and sister went back to their homes in Fond du Lac. Visiting from Appleton, I stayed the night. We played some music for dad: The Beach Boys. “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” “Good Vibrations”... “God Only Knows” played, and my mom spoke to my dad, me in the other room. He was gone in less than a half hour.

The next day, Tim and Winnie visited. I told my niece that papa was in heaven now. She smiled and agreed. I told her we played music for him. Immediately, my eight-year-old niece said “The Beach Boys?” At about the same time Wednesday night, far across town, they had decided to honor Bill with the same music.

God only knows what we’d be without you, dad. Thank you for 70 years of greatness. We love you so much.

2/7/22

^I have pics posted on the wall of my work cube to cheer me up. This is dad and me a few years back on my birthday, celebrating in the Olig family dining room. With the mini typewriter, I cycle through a number of quotes. I just realized it was all set up so that dad is pointing at the Serenity Prayer.