Hello, my name is Joe, eldest son of Joe Smith, who we are here today to honor and remember. My older sister Elizabeth, younger brother Thomas and mother Diane thank you for coming today. Your presence, thoughtfulness and care as we process and grieve in these challenging times means more than you can possibly know.

My dad was born on July 22, 1951 and went to the ICU due to breathing complications. They didn’t think he would make it, but he miraculously lived. Hey passed away 6 days ago on May 22, in the ICU in large part due to breathing complications. He lived 69 years, with many breaths of life in between. As I think back on his life I think about how the cards were stacked against him, even from the very beginning. There were many challenges, hardships, and dysfunction that he wrestled throughout his life as well as many joyous moments worthy of celebration.

Like something out of a storybook, our dad met our mom at a high school dance. Dad would always tell us how he knew right when he met her that she was the one. He wasn’t wrong. they danced, they dated, fell in love, got married and were together for 47 years until the day he passed away.

Growing up it was clear that our dad’s pride and joy were his parents and brothers. He couldn’t talk about his love, affection and admiration for them without getting choked up. We would see his mom and dad 3-4 times a week if not more, and somehow didn’t tire of one another’s’ company. Grandpa and Grandma who we affectionately called Babe and his brother John Wayne passed in the late 90’s and early 2000’s. He missed them terribly and longed to be reunited with them again. When he went in for his back surgery a few weeks ago, he only brought a few things with him. One of those items was a big stack of pictures of him and his family, all lovingly and happily embracing one another throughout the years. To put it quite simply, they were his world.

My dad would call me often. Sometimes more often than I liked. ;) My favorite memories of talking with him were when I shared a parenting dilemma or problem we were facing with being new homeowners in a house with a lot of problems. He seemed to be most fully himself and spring to life when giving fatherly advice or helping out with a home repair. I loved those moments. “We’re always here for you Joe, anytime, always,” he would tell me during many of our calls. I knew that if I asked him to do anything for me, he would do so in a heartbeat. My brother Tom and I were looking at photo albums of our family this past week and noticed a lot of pictures of our mom and us kids together throughout the years. We were looking for pictures for the funeral today and were wondering why he wasn’t in many. After a while It his us that dad wasn’t absent from those moments, he was the one lovingly documenting it all with the camera, to never truly forget those good times.

We had many challenges in our relationship with dad throughout the years, but unexpectedly my mind and heart have been flooded with so many long forgotten joy filled memories we shared. Since having children myself, I feel more and more the pleasure he must have felt when he took us to the Enchanted Village amusement park countless times - uncontrollable laughter on specific rides seared into my memory, taking me to what at the time seemed like would be the pinnacle of my life - the premier of Jurassic Park, playing cards with Grandpa and Babe every Saturday night and meals with them every Friday night, Sunday after church and again Sunday evening, eating dads favorite fresh strawberries and watermelon from the garden on warm spring nights with the screen door open, long summer road trips full of “are we there yets” to Minnesota, going to haunted houses (he absolutely loved haunted houses), baseball games with chocolate malts, and getting to the forth of July fireworks show hours before it started so we could have the best seats in the house. When I see his face in my mind I see joy. And to put it quite simply, we were his world.

We love you dad. We will miss you. We want you to know, we’re going to be ok.