In loving memory of my dad, who went to heaven this past Thursday.
He lived with quiet strength, loved with his whole heart, and gave without expecting anything in return.
Even in pain, he showed us how to lead with grace, faith, and humor.
Our hearts are broken, but they’re also full—of memories, lessons, and deep gratitude.
This is a glimpse into the life of a remarkable man we were so lucky to call ours
This past Thursday, my daddy went to heaven. To say we’re heartbroken feels like an understatement. To quote C.S. Lewis, “the greater the love, the greater the grief,” and boy did I have a great love for my dad.
When my dad’s dad (my grandpa) passed away years ago, I remember listening in when my dad got the phone call from my aunt. His reaction has stuck with me over the years. Though he was sad, I remember him saying how he was mostly overwhelmed with gratitude to God for giving him such an awesome dad.
After being admitted to hospice, my dad had a similar response. He said: “I’ve spent so much of my life with people who have lived through so much hardship. I’ve had an incredibly blessed life, and to get to this point in the journey with so much gratitude is such a gift.” He told us he wasn’t depressed (though he was sure to add that he wouldn’t feel one bit ashamed about it if he were!), and though he was very honest about his sadness surrounding not being able to stay around longer with us and especially his grandbabies, he felt peace. He said that he wasn’t afraid of the death part; though the dying part he wasn’t too thrilled about.
It’s still hard to wrap my head around how he kept that grateful and gracious attitude in the midst of such awful circumstances. It didn’t make a lot of sense. His last two years were about as difficult as they come. He had an exceptionally painful type of cancer, and his chemo treatments were intense. Every few weeks he’d be admitted to the hospital for seven days of continuous chemo, and in between those treatments he would have a one-day 14-hour outpatient chemo treatment. The treatments totally wrecked him and were hard to witness—when he wasn’t in the hospital for chemo, he was often there for treatment-related complications.
In October of 2023, he had a major 8-hour surgery that required a team of a dozen doctors. They took out three ribs, the surrounding tissues, and all the cancer and put him back together again. The recovery was brutal, and after a couple months he was back at those treatments.
On August 5, 2024, he was declared cancer free! We all sobbed tears of relief and thought the nightmare was over. But one day later on August 6th, he had an MRI to check the surgical area to see how it was healing and they found a reoccurrence. He did more chemo and other treatments, but nothing worked and everything only made him sicker.
His last few months (and especially the last few weeks/days) were even more difficult. The pain was agonizing. I’ve never seen someone so weak or uncomfortable. I didn’t know the human body could withstand so much for so long. Yet through it all, he was so brave and kind; he maintained his sense of humor, his sweet smile, and that unwavering faith in Jesus. We had lots of conversations about death these last few weeks, and his main concerns were for my mom, his kids, and his grandkids—not himself. For years, my dad taught a class on death and loss to masters level counseling students, and in so many ways, we were his last students. Just as he taught my brothers and I how to live, he taught us how to die.
Unlike my daddy, graciousness and gratitude to God aren’t my default. I’ve been struggling a lot with the unfairness of it all. (Though my dad has long prepared us for that reality too. When we were kids, his first family rule was to remember that life is not fair. The second family rule was to not pee on the toilet seat—that one came around after Spencer and Jordan were born!) My dad was a central part of every one of my future plans and one of the main members of my “village.” He was so much more than a dad—he was my therapist, my main encourager, and one of my best friends. The thought of my kids and nieces/nephews not getting to spend more time with their “papa” makes me a little sick. Though I know Jesus will carry us through, it’s hard to envision what life looks like without him.
But, throughout these past couple years, my dad has inspired me to lead with gratitude. So, in that spirit and to honor my daddy, I’d like to share some things about him that I’m thankful for.
First, I’m thankful to have had a present dad. My first memory is of me as a toddler sitting in my dad’s lap on his big recliner. I would bring him a handful of diapers and he’d draw a picture on each one with a sharpie. I thought it was so cool that I got to wear custom diapers designed by my dad! I loved just being with him.
He was there for all of my best moments. When I had Judah, I had a 40-hour labor. My dad was there for most of that time—he walked me around the hospital halls in the middle of the night and sat with me so Dan could run out and get a bite to eat or some fresh air. I’ll never forget the moment he held his first grandkid (Judah) in his arms—it was true love at first sight for both of them!
A few years ago, I moved to the General Counsel position at work. My dad asked me for a new business card for over a year because he was so proud. I finally requested some new cards. I think he’s the only person to this day to whom I’ve given one of those new business cards!
He was also there for all of my worst moments. When I found out our first baby no longer had a heartbeat when I was 12 weeks pregnant, my dad picked up the medications I needed to induce the miscarriage at the pharmacy so Dan or I didn’t have to. He watched Adam Sandler movies and ate McDonalds cheeseburgers with me as I went through this miscarriage process over the next couple of days when Dan couldn’t be there since he had just started a new job.
When Annie was born, I developed some sudden high blood pressure that they couldn’t get under control. After a really rough night at the hospital by myself, I called my dad crying because my blood pressure was spiking and the nurses thought Annie might have some breathing issues. I was scared. He had just had his major surgery a few weeks prior and was weak and didn’t feel good, but he showed up 30 minutes later. Everything was better the second he walked in that door. He held Annie while I rested, and it all was ok.
And perhaps most remarkably, he was there for all those mundane moments in between. For as long as I can remember, I loved going on late night grocery store runs or to get gas with my dad. In recent years, Judah has followed in my footsteps. His favorite day of the month has been senior day at Fry’s because he got to go to the grocery store with papa. I would call my dad on my way home from work everyday just to shoot the breeze. He’d leave me a Chick-Fil-A diet lemonade on my doorstep or stop by unannounced with donuts for the kids after lunch. He’d pick up children’s Tylenol at midnight when one of the kids came down with a fever. He went trick or treating with us, watched the Cowboys games with us, and sent us funny memes and interesting articles and podcast recommendations. He was there for it all.
Second, I am thankful for a dad who always made me do the right and brave thing, even when it was scary. I’m a big fan of my comfort zone, and my dad was a big fan of pushing me out of it! I remember before I started law school, there was a welcome dinner at the Dean’s house. I was terrified and intimidated and didn’t want to go. My dad encouraged me to do it anyways, but he didn’t have me do it alone. He drove me all the way there and waited in the car outside reading a book while I was inside. A few weeks later, I attended my first Civil Procedure class and called him from the library afterwards in tears. I was supposed to read some case on personal jurisdiction (Pennoyer v. Neff), and despite my best efforts, I didn’t understand a word of it. I was ready to drop out then and there! That night, my dad took my law books and made me a comic book-style study guide on Pennoyer v. Neff as I slept. I’ve never understood a case better!
A couple years later, I was supposed to fly out to meet my new boyfriend’s family for the first time over spring break. I was nervous about going, but my dad encouraged me to do it anyways. When I got there, we stayed with his two elderly great aunts. They announced that evening that we’d be having a church service the next morning and all of us would be sharing a message from the Bible. I called my dad in a whispered panic from my room that night—I was pretty sure my approval rating would depend on this message! After a good laugh, he gave me his sermon outline that he was working on and I shared it with everyone the next morning. I ended up marrying that boyfriend, so I guess they were ok with the message.
When I was pregnant with Hadley, it was at the height of COVID, and Dan wasn’t allowed to go to any of my doctor’s appointments. After my miscarriage, I always had a lot of anxiety surrounding my doctor’s visits. I hated the thought of having to go to them alone. But my sweet dad ensured I didn’t have to. Like he did to the law school welcome dinner, he drove me to many of those early appointments and waited in the car just in case I got bad news. Thankfully I never did, and we celebrated afterwards each time—usually by driving through Starbucks!
Third, I’m thankful for a dad who loved my kids so well. Watching my dad become a papa was one of my greatest joys. He was made for the role and loved all four of his grandkids deeply. In fact, that seemed to be the hardest part of dying—he wanted more time with “his babies.” He was the first person outside of Dan or myself to hold each of my kids—how fitting it is that he’s the first one to get to hold my first baby who’s also up in heaven!
When asked, Judah would say that papa was his best friend. They did everything together and had such a special relationship. My mom was out of town on my first day back to work after he was born, so my dad watched him the entire day by himself. He picked Judah up from preschool everyday before he got sick, and most days Judah would talk him into stopping by somewhere for a treat on the way home. He could get through to Judah like nobody else could. Their love was special and pure.
My dad drove me to the appointment where I found out that Hadley was a girl, and he was so excited to be getting a granddaughter! They would play “baseball” with a cinnamon stick and a dried apple from my mom’s potpourri bowl. After he was admitted to hospice, Hadley would come home from preschool each day and ask to go to see papa. They’d hang out watching Paw Patrol and eating popsicles together as she sat on his hospital bed. She and Judah would fight over who got to sit next to him at restaurants—my dad always resolved it by sitting in the middle, which is why he usually got spilled on most meals out! Even though he lived in the same neighborhood as us, he, Judah, and Hadley were all pen pals. They got so excited when they got mail from papa, which sometimes included surprises from the dollar store!
Annie only got 16 months with my dad, and it breaks my heart that she won’t have any memories of him. But it was evident she loved him too—“papa” was one of her first words and he was one of the very few she would let hold her. She is named “Annie Hope” is my dad’s honor. I found out about his cancer about two weeks after I found out I was pregnant with her. Hope was my dad’s older sister’s name who passed away when my dad was in junior high, and hope was the main mission of his ministry (“to provide hope to all through Christ alone”). He loved her so much and it was a gift that they got to spend so much time together these past few weeks as she “helped” us care for my dad while my older two were at school.
And finally, but most importantly, I’m thankful for a dad who gave me a really clear picture of what an authentic faith in God looks like. My dad loved Jesus, but he wasn’t cheesy or inauthentic about it. He was honest and nonjudgmental and never intimidated or offended by those who doubted, didn’t believe, or wanted to explore tough questions. He took the approach of exploring those doubts and tough questions alongside them rather than “coaching” them through it. He was the first to tell you that he was an imperfect dude figuring it all out too.
My dad was smart, and he took his job as a preacher very seriously. I remember waking up on 2am on Sundays and still seeing his office light on—he frequently pulled all-nighters on Saturdays studying for his sermons. I learned so much about Jesus through his teaching. He was able to take complicated scriptures and break them down like nobody else could. He used to always say that he wanted his church to be like the Toby Keith song “I Love This Bar.” He wanted his messages to be understood by and useful for the “winners, losers, chain-smokers and boozers, yuppies, bikers, and thirsty hitchhikers.”
But as much as he loved being a preacher, he loved being a pastor more. The people were his passion. I think anyone who had met him knew that. He was always one of the last people to leave church on Sundays—talking with and praying for people after the service was always his favorite part of Sunday. From the time I was a little girl, I can remember my dad getting middle of the night phone calls from those in distress—sometimes they were drunk, sometimes they were suicidal, and sometimes they had just experienced a horrific tragedy. My dad would often grab his car keys and go. With his gentle and nonjudgmental spirit and calm demeanor, he was the guy people wanted around when they were going through hell. He loved people at their messiest and saw them as Jesus does. I can remember him telling me once that when he was in college there was a particularly annoying classmate of his that he struggled with, but he once had the realization that God looks at her and thinks “hey, that’s my little girl.” That’s really the way he seemed to view even the most difficult of people—as God’s little girls and guys. If he knew you, chances are he really loved you.
My dad’s other favorite part about ministry was serving the community. One of his favorite things to do each year was to take every penny of the church’s Easter offering (which was the biggest offering of the year) and to use that offering to pay the electric bills of every widow or single mom in the church’s zip code who submitted a request. He was adamant that there were absolutely no strings attached—no pressure at all to ever step foot on the church campus or talk to anyone on staff. I remember a few times the story got some news coverage and I saw some comments from people who were skeptical and convinced there was a hidden agenda—there wasn’t. He just viewed it as the church carrying out God’s commandment to care for orphans and widows.
He also encouraged others to step outside of the church walls and serve others. His last big campaign was an effort to get 1,000 people from the church to spend a certain number of hours volunteering out in the community. When the church didn’t meet the timeline he had originally set, he extended the campaign. He wasn’t going to give it up—it was that important to him. I remember I volunteered with my dad by handing out meals to the homeless so that we could do our part in meeting that goal. He didn’t just preach about it—he got out there and did it too.
I’ll end this with something I heard my dad say a few times in the last few weeks: God is good even when the news isn’t. I agree with him. God brought us through these last two years and he’s going to carry us through this next season. I’m thankful God gave me such a wonderful daddy, and I’m thankful for the hope we have that we will see him again soon.