I wrote this eulogy for my Dad: 

What He Didn't Know

Dad's best, life-long friend, Boyd Jensen, once told Stephanie that Dad "had the knowledge, but but not the skill" to do lots of things.

I find myself wondering if sometimes the opposite is true. Long before the days of YouTube tutorials and instantaneous web search results, Dad was often quite adept at fixing all the tangible things around our home. Sure, sometimes he took shortcuts that were less than ideal (or safe), but generally, Dad could be counted on to change the oil in the cars, change brake pads, and repair or improve plumbing and electrical wiring. It's how I learned to do those things and I don't take shortcuts, so I know that at least he taught me well.

Dad lacked vulnerability. But unless someone is very mentally ill, vulnerability isn't something that just happens to be gone one day... Dad's vulnerability was stolen, moment by moment, until there was little left, and what was left was protected by the most dangerous and painful traps, just to ensure nothing and nobody could take what little was left of that most human of traits. He guarded himself from those who loved and cared for him most.

I actually think Dad had the skill... but not the knowledge.

He didn't know that love IS NOT freedom from hurt or pain or disappointment.

He didn't know that loving guarantees hurt... over and over again.

He didn't know that true forgiveness offers true relief... for all parties (including himself).

He didn't know that people WANTED to love him, sometimes in spite of his humanity, sometimes because of it.

He didn't know that his daughters wanted to forgive him. We wanted to know him. We wanted to care about and love him. We wanted to leave the trauma and pain of the past in the past, and build a new relationship with him where honesty was treasured and forgiveness was unconditional.

He didn't know that we were capable of that.

He didn't know that he was loved and worthy of love, because of who he was, AND because of who we are.

Yes. It was knowledge...

Dad lacked knowledge.

He didn't know we love him. He didn't know how to love himself. 

Heidi Hart's Eulogy for her Father, David Lauritzen: 

What he didn't know:

Dad's best, life-long friend, Boyd Jensen, once told Stephanie that Dad "had the knowledge, but but not the skill" to do lots of things.

I find myself wondering if sometimes the opposite is true. Long before the days of YouTube tutorials and instantaneous web search results, Dad was often quite adept at fixing all the tangible things around our home. Sure, sometimes he took shortcuts that were less than ideal (or safe), but generally, Dad could be counted on to change the oil in the cars, change brake pads, and repair or improve plumbing and electrical wiring. It's how I learned to do those things and I don't take shortcuts, so I know that at least he taught me well.

Dad lacked vulnerability. But unless someone is very mentally ill, vulnerability isn't something that just happens to be gone one day... Dad's vulnerability was stolen, moment by moment, until there was little left, and what was left was protected by the most dangerous and painful traps, just to ensure nothing and nobody could take what little was left of that most human of traits. He guarded himself from those who loved and cared for him most.

I actually think Dad had the skill... but not the knowledge.

He didn't know that love IS NOT freedom from hurt or pain or disappointment.

He didn't know that loving guarantees hurt... over and over again.

He didn't know that true forgiveness offers true relief... for all parties (including himself).

He didn't know that people WANTED to love him, sometimes in spite of his humanity, sometimes because of it.

He didn't know that his daughters wanted to forgive him. We wanted to know him. We wanted to care about and love him. We wanted to leave the trauma and pain of the past in the past, and build a new relationship with him where honesty was treasured and forgiveness was unconditional.

He didn't know that we were capable of that.

He didn't know that he was loved and worthy of love, because of who he was, AND because of who we are.

Yes. It was knowledge...

Dad lacked knowledge.

He didn't know we love him. He didn't know how to love himself.