on
11/24/2001
It has been two weeks since my father died, on November eleventh. He died of an apparent heart attack, in the care of his wife and brother. He died in the house he built, where he raised his children.
He died young. He never had any grandchildren to bug, and get wound up before bedtime. He met the man his daughter may marry, however, and he saw his son come out of a heartbreak worse than any in either of their lives, stronger and perhaps smarter than before.
He lived a good life. He touched more people than could fit into two floors of an overcrowded church service on November sixteenth, and there isn't a man in the world with an honest grievance against him.
Hamlet had something nice to say about his father, but Hamlet couldn't live up to his memory. Cat Stevens will, instead, be called on here. This song was played at the service:
Silent Sunlight, welcome inThere is work I must now begin
All my dreams have blown away
And the children wait to play
They'll soon remember things to do
When the heart is young
And the night is done
And the sky is blue
Morning songbird, sing awayLend a tune to another day
Bring your wings and choose a roof
Sing a song of love and truth
We'll soon remember if you do
When all things were tall
And our friends were small
And the world was new
Sleepy horses, heave awayPut your backs to the golden hay
Don't ever look behind at the work you've done
For your work has just begun
There'll be the evening in the end
But till that time arrives
You can rest your eyes
And begin again
Chuck, Dad, Mr. Rasmussen, you will never be lost.
Touch the Toast