We are gathered today to celebrate the life, and mourn the
death, of my father; Garry Flatt. These words may not be easy to speak to you
today through my pain, but they were easy to write, because they are directly
from my heart. I hope to honor the man who made me who I am today and who
taught me what it means to be a father. None of the words I could write here
could do him justice, but I will endeavor to earn this privilege.
Who was Garry Flatt? The short version is easy; he was a
husband, father, son, veteran, and a grandfather. He was a lover of animals, a
goofball for his grandkids, a role model, my personal hero, and as I’ve learned
over the last few days, apparently a high school home economics savant. Dad
loved World of Warcraft, TV and Movies, old country songs, reading, and making
sure his yard was always perfect. ALWAYS. These things don’t tell you the story
of my father though, they are just the highlights of the man he was.
My Dad was not a perfect man; but he always sought to
overcome his flaws and never stopped trying despite all of the many hurdles
that life placed in his way. Despite these flaws, he was one of the greatest
men I’ve ever known and likely the best I will ever meet. My father was the
kind of man who would go down the street 20 times in a week to help an older
man who was confused about where he was, trim a neighbor’s trees, or offer to
help you do just about anything while expecting nothing in return. If someone’s
appliance broke down, he was there. If your car quit running in the middle of
nowhere, he was there. If you couldn’t make it your next paycheck and needed a
loan, he was there. This is the man my father was and who he taught us all to
be.
My brothers and I learned about marriage by watching my
mother and father, with all the good and bad that comes with it. They weren’t
the romantic comedy version of a happy marriage; their love was messy and
sometimes filled with arguments, but it was a real love the kind filled with
imperfections that make it work to stay together. Dad was the kind of man that
would grump and complain, drive my Mom crazy, but always be sure he remembered
her birthday or mother’s day and made damn sure we did as well. My father
worked hard to be a good Dad and husband, my Mom worked hard at putting up with
him sometimes, and after 41 years of marriage they celebrated last month they
taught us that marriage was the kind of work that was worth it.
Considering the words I’ve shared with you already, it should
come as no surprise that Garry Flatt was a fantastic father. If we ever wanted
for anything in life, I wasn’t aware of it, and my father went out of his way
to fill us with so many happy memories that I experienced the kind of childhood
some only dream of. He loved us so much that he left his life’s calling, the
only job he ever loved in the military, just to be with us more. It wasn’t
until I was grown of course that I understood this, I just thought that my
experience was a normal one. I didn’t know that some people, including my
father, had terrible and sometimes abusive fathers. I debated on mentioning
that fact today, but I did so you can truly understand my father: he rose above
it; he broke the cycle. Instead of teaching us about a closed fist he taught us
the importance of honoring your word, being kind to others, and the value of
hard work.
Whether he was sick, hurt, or still recovering from surgery,
it didn’t matter; Dad would be at work or mowing the yard the second he thought
he could get away with it. Sometimes he taught us the meaning of hard work even
when we didn’t always appreciate the lesson. There was no such thing as a snow
day with my father once we had jobs. We lived out in the country on poorly
plowed roads AND our driveway happens to be a hill. One time my father trekked
up our hill and across the road to attach a come along to the tree and pull our
car onto the main road. At least once in the snow we all CARRIED a car out of
the driveway, just to insure we could not miss work. If my Dad was able to
speak to us today the first thing he might tell me is that I should be at work
right now, not here fussing over him. That was the Master Sergeant in him, and
it stayed with him until the day he died. It is the reason that all of us boys
work so hard to provide for our families and even though we may not have always
learned the lessons with smiles on our faces, we wouldn’t be the same men
without them.
Today there is a huge hole in all of us where my father was
just days ago and I don’t know that we will ever truly recover. My heart is
shattered knowing that I will never see my Dad light up like a kid at Christmas
as he watched his children and grandchildren open their gifts or buy way too
many fireworks on the Fourth of July (at least once managing to catch them all
on fire in a paper grocery bag). When I walk into my childhood home I see his
memory everywhere now. I see it in the swing that he climbed perilously high in
an enormous tree to tie to a branch when we were children; the same swing that
just months ago he pushed his grandkids way too high on. That swing might be
the epitome of my father: his sense of pride in his work and the stubborn
perfectionist in him that managed to make the knots that lasted over 20 years
and the desire to always see his loved ones happy. For me though I’ll always
see him on the back porch, drip drying on our metal chairs after we swam in the
pool and talking with me and still guiding me after 35 years of my life.
If you look around you today you will see the lives my father
has touched. There are people in this room that have driven hundreds of miles
to say goodbye to my father; some of them that knew him in highschool over 40
years ago and yet he left an imprint on their lives.
My family and I put together a memorial website where people
could share stories and pictures of my father, and one man that my father was a
platoon sergeant of 30 years ago contacted us to let us know that the
leadership of my father, providing the same lessons he imparted us, made him a
better man and that the country needed more men and leaders like him. As of
this morning over twelve hundred people have visited this page to pay their
respects to my father because he was the kind of person who made that
impression on you, whether you only met him once or were his flesh and blood.
My father is gone, but his legacy will live on in his
grandchildren and sons. Whenever we take pride in our work, you will see our
father. When we help someone in need, without thought of our own gain, you will
see my father. Every time we love with our whole hearts, keep our word, or
stand up for what is right when nobody else will; you will see my father. I
can’t stand here and tell you that my Dad is in a better place, but I can tell
you without a doubt he left this world a better place.
I will spend the rest of
my life trying to be the man he showed me how to be. In the words of Conway
Twitty:
Every person carves his spot
And fills the hole with light.
And I pray someday I might
Light as bright as he
And fills the hole with light.
And I pray someday I might
Light as bright as he
I love you Dad. Goodbye.
No comments:
Post a Comment