See You in the Funny Papers-My Tribute to “Clyde”
*note-this is my
personal tribute to my late (and great) father-in-law. It’s an open letter to
him so forgive me, if I don’t use formal titles etc. He and I were never formal and I liked it
that way. He was so many things to so
many people but this is who he was to me and I certainly could never do him
justice in these few paragraphs.
Dearest Clyde,
I only write this in letter form because I have no other way
that comes to mind. This is all simply surreal. I don’t particularly like the
world without you in it and it’s an odd and empty feeling. I’ve known you since
I was nineteen years old-most of my adult life. Seven years later, when I
married your son, I had no idea that I got two great guys in the deal-well,
really three if you count Austin. Your moral code, work ethic and sense of
honor and integrity reminded me so much of my own Dad-I guess that’s why you
both got along so well. I always loved overhearing your conversations about
fighting in Korea and, the laughter that went along with some of the stories,
made me think you two got in a little trouble while you were there!
Your laugh is what I may miss most but there’s no way I
could pick just one thing. Most people
don’t know what our relationship was like because few really saw it. It was forged in the many days and nights
while I was alone, with the kids, while Rodney was on the road preaching.
Often, Ellen was gone ministering too and we were both alone. Since we were
neighbors, you quickly became our safety net as you came over to check on us, have
dinner, or take the kids outside for an adventure. Unfortunately for you, the “emergency
repairman” title came along with it too! Oh, the many times I called you with a
dead car battery, a clogged drain, a basement flood or some broken “this or
that”. My favorite emergency was the
infamous garbage disposal explosion. I had put an entire pan of rice down the
disposal and it exploded like The Yellowstone Geyser! You and I waded through rice and water up to
our ankles and you just laughed, took off your shoes and socks, and rolled up
those khaki pants you always wore. I deserved a lecture but you never said a
word-I’m still really sorry over that one!
I can still picture the countless times you walked through
the back door, coffee cup in hand, saying, “Do you need anything boys?” From
there our chats covered several topics and often, we’d vent to each other about
things that always remained between us. Thank you for being a sounding board and
a voice of reason since no one else would have, or could have, understood what
it was like being the background to someone else’s foreground. Even though we’d
have it no other way, there were still drawbacks that only we knew relative to
our particular situations. I always felt
better knowing you were there…now what am I supposed to do?
I remember one of our conversations about the things that
matter in life. You told me your goal was to be a great Paw Paw and what I can
say to that is… Mission Accomplished! More people should have goals like that;
uncomplicated but everlasting. What memories you gave your three grandkids! I
could never list them all but you
know and they know and that’s all
that really matters. You never needed applause or accolades…people that have
great depth of character don’t. Your applause came in the squeals of Austin’s
delight on the four-wheeler, the pride on Amy’s face as you taught her to shoot
her first gun, and the pure pleasure of teaching Ashton to drive the junky “Buck
Truck” at age ten! Your accolades came in the time you had with your family and
your devotion was matchless. I watched intently as you hovered over your
daughter’s bedside and we’ll leave it at that since you are joyfully together
now…as it should be. You stood beside your son in ways that are
indescribable-you built way more than just buildings. You cheered on your wife
as she pursued her calling and by example, helped me do the same.
I could go on and on
but the volumes I have left will forever remain in the torn and tattered pages
of this wounded heart that I wear on my sleeve right now. You are not just one
of the good ones; you are one of the great ones. Whenever you left my house, you always left
your coffee cup and I’d wait until I had three or four before I return them.
The other day, I found one of them in the back of a cupboard I was cleaning out…um,
you’re not getting it back! I’ll keep it along with my fondest of all memories
-what you always said when you left, “Well, I’ll see you in the funny papers.”
I miss hearing that, I miss laughing over the Letters to the Editor in your
hometown paper, I miss your orange paint on everything, I miss hearing the
sound of your truck pulling in the drive, I miss your jokes, I even miss your
singing…I guess you could say I miss everything.
This I know, there is a heaven and you’re there. You deserve
your Crown of Righteousness and your Eternal Reward. You deserve to have no
more sorrow, no more pain, and no more loss. You deserve the joy of being with
your daughter, your loved ones and your Lord. You deserve it all and that’s my
solace. As Ashton said, “Paw Paw had too much life to stay in that body”. I agree, as hard as it is to say, but I
agree. I’m comforted in knowing that this goodbye isn’t forever but until
then, please know that I love you and well… I’ll see you in the funny papers.
Love Always,
Joni