My Eulogy to My Dad at His Memorial Service

On Sunday, June 9th, the following eulogy was given by Brian Simcoe at Kent's memorial service. 

I remember so many things about my dad, there’s no way to merely “sum him up”. Here are a few thoughts about him that you may appreciate.

Dad was a man who really worked to give his family what they needed. Did we need a vacation? Dad took us up to Lake Tahoe for 10 days every year to ski, put us in lessons, which I hated, but I appreciate so much now because I really can ski the way I want to. Did we need correction? I got in trouble for running away from the family at Marine World, so Dad sat with me out in the car for the rest of the day. Did we need braces? Dad knew his Porsche was in our mouths. Did we need transportation? Dad sold his powder-blue 1967 Ford Mustang to buy the family our blue 1972 VW bus.

Did I mention vacations? We drove everywhere, six of us in a station wagon, pulling a pop-up trailer. I only needed to learn once that when he said, “If I have to stop this car, you’ll be sorry,” he meant it. Dad, I’m still sorry.

Dad also traveled a great deal for his work. That isn’t really a vacation. When asked how he liked Hawaii, he said, “Honolulu and Akron? Same sales office, different food.”

I really picked up my early love of comic books from Dad. Not action hero comic books, but the funny kind. Dad was a real connoisseur, from Peanuts to Pogo, Asterix to Garfield. He also really enjoyed the on-screen cartoon stars, from the ubiquitous Mickey Mouse to the dry and witty Looney Tunes to the Cold War dynamic duo, Rocky and Bullwinkle.

He always had a sharp wit and a wry observation; he was well known for his humorous e-mails. Last week, one of my co-workers from a former job e-mailed me her condolences, and said that SHE would even miss his hilarious “forwards”.

Dad loved music. He encouraged us kids to pursue musicianship, and put his money behind our efforts. He loved to sing, and frequently satirized popular tunes, like, “Killing me softly with Kung Fu, killing me softly with Kung fu.” He sang in the choir and particularly enjoyed the Messiah Sing. Yet he would croon “Oh Cecilia” as he skied down the slopes, and he was almost as likely to listen to Johnny Cash as he was to KDFC. He loved parody, from Spike Jones to Tom Lehrer. And he was one of the few people I knew who knew that the theme to Monty Python was really John Phillip Sousa’s “Liberty Bell March.”

Dad was an inquisitive scientist and his wealth of knowledge was vast. He could explain current quantum theory as well as postulate on our best chances of reaching the stars. What a blessing to picture him walking now beside his Creator, saying, “Wow! That’s how you did that! You’re amazing, God!”

It was the stars themselves that first taught him to fear, admire, and respect God, most poignantly during his many years as a Boy Scout, laying out in his sleeping bag, gazing at the sky. “The heavens tell the glory of God, and creation displays the wonders of His works.”  Yet Dad wasn’t sure what to think about a God who “numbered every hair on his head.” Why would God bother? I’m sure he knows now just how precious even his hairs were to God.

Two and a half weeks ago, Mark and I got to be witness to a small view of that love. When I asked if he had asked Jesus into his heart, he nodded. We stood by his bed and prayed with him. Then Mark said, “Dad, Jesus doesn’t want you to be afraid of anything anymore, neither in life or in death.” And Dad smiled a HUGE smile, the kind that only could come from feeling that message deep in his heart. He grinned. He knew.

That is my hope and peace. I look forward to the day when we will stand together by the glassy sea, worshipping together not as father and son but as brothers and friends, bound by the Holy Spirit who called us to Him. And Dad will say, “I’m glad you’re finally here. You’re gonna love seeing why gravity works. It’s so cool. Let’s go ask Jesus to show you.” And I’m going to love it.

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