I wrote my father’s eulogy 14 months before he died. At least in part. It was a poem. I wrote it to let him know how much I loved him, while there was still time. I shared the poem with him (read How to tell your father you love him). The poem formed part of the eulogy I delivered at his funeral service two days after his death.

My father died peacefully at home, on Tuesday 22 June 1999. I was with him, holding his hand as he drew his final breath. My husband was there too. It was a God-ordained moment.

I’ve never forgotten how I felt that day, being with my father as he passed from this life to the next. For that brief moment, I felt like I was standing on holy ground.

My father’s funeral service was held at St Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, Rockhampton, on Thursday 24 June 1999, commencing at 10.00 am. The Reverend Charlie Kennedy and my husband Tony conducted the service. Three family members gave tributes. I spoke first, followed by my brother Bevan and our daughter Ruth. Ivan Richardson (organ), Peter Schravemade (keyboard) and our son Daniel (violin) provided the music.

After the service, mourners joined the family for morning tea in the Church Hall (next door to the church). We held a private committal service at the Rockhampton Crematorium later that day.

What follows is the eulogy I delivered at my father’s funeral service. I am sharing it here, in the hope that something I’ve said (or written) helps you as you face the death, or deal with the loss, of someone dear to you.  

The eulogy

I consider it a great privilege to speak about my dad today. I believe that a funeral gives opportunity for us to remind people about the person who has filled a life, been here amongst us, and it enables us to institutionalise their memory. It is generally a final public testimony to that individual.

What I am going to share with you today is a poem I wrote for my dad over a year ago. Tony said to me that I should tell Dad how much he meant to me. That was hard to do, so I decided to write it down. I wrote this poem “My Dad” last year, 1998, on ANZAC Day.

In a way, I checked out his eulogy with him. He was really moved by the poem I wrote, and he said it was good, although he said I might have been a little hard.

Bill Proposch was basically a private person. The person I will describe is the one I knew as my father. It is written for “Henry”, a nickname I used, not that I really know why.

MY DAD

(Dedicated to Bill Proposch – “Henry”)

My Dad –
So intelligent, quick-thinking and wise.
Honourable, noble, upright and fair,
You are a man of integrity and duty.
A leader, a loner,
A lover of your wife and own.

My Dad –
So clever, shrewd and far-sighted
Innovative, futuristic and unafraid.
A genius with numbers and a mind alive.
Computer-freak, accountant,
In business, a successful man.

My Dad –
So fun-loving, daring and untamed.
Smoker, joker, and full of wit.
A risk-taker, gambler and trail-blazer.
Out on your own
Yet never hidden in a crowd.

My Dad –
So hard-working, dedicated and resolute.
Auctioneer, fruiterer and travel agent.
A soldier in the battle of commerce
Never a follower
But always your own boss.

My Dad –
So proud, yet strangely humble, a hard man
And hard to get to know.
Stubborn – just like me,
You can be unrelenting,
You hold your cards close to your chest.

My Dad –
Educated, cultured, yet learning still,
A person to be esteemed.
You speak with voice and words
That mark you out
As a man among men.

Dad –
This is how I remember you
Praising me, defending me, advising me,
Teasing me (my nose, my legs, my pride)
Always interested in me
Dad – you are my friend.

Dad –
I have not forgotten all the time and money
You devoted selflessly to me:
Typing up my childish story,
Encouraging me in my study, music and art,
Meeting me at the train.

Dad –
You worked so hard and long and didn’t often rest:
You spent Sundays at the dining table
Pouring over figures and books.
But then I recall the camping holidays –
The caravan such a treat.

Dad –
Can you remember Friday nights
In front of the TV?
You and I relaxing, a hard week at its end,
“The Avengers” and a block of chocolate
Shared with much delight.

Dad –
You love to listen to the radio (and the TV).
The news, the weather, the races
And now the stocks and shares.
I still remember Sunday nights with Billy Graham
When I was a child.

Dad –
You are a man of simple pleasures:
A quiet beer after work, a whisky or two.
Your home is your castle,
Your children and grandchildren know
They are always welcome there.

Dad –
You are so organised and thorough,
No stone is left unturned.
In business and in family life,
You are a planner, a designer,
So generous to your own.

Dad –
Now old, now frail, now tired.
But I see you as you were –
So strong, upright, energetic,
Full of life.
Everything for you a challenge.

Dad –
I cannot be with you
As you face your last great challenge.
But I want you to know
How much I love and admire you,
And want to meet you on the other side.

Dad –
Your life has seen many struggles
Not least the present one.
And to have a ‘religious’ daughter
Was not your idea at all –
But didn’t we talk about God when I was young?

Dad –
I want you to know how much I have prayed
Over the last twenty-four years for you.
I don’t want you to die
Until I am sure –
You are at peace with God (through the Lord Jesus Christ).

Dad –
May it be for you, when you leave us here,
That God calls you home
And says to you, with arms open wide,
“Well done, good and faithful servant!
Come unto me and rest.”

The eulogy continued

I believe that Dad and I were very close, in so many ways. I deeply loved and respected him.

As I grew up, he was my hero. What he thought and believed and did greatly affected my thoughts, beliefs and actions.

As a child, I knew Dad believed in God; so I believed in God. However, for many years of my adult life, Dad and I differed in the ways in which expressed our faith in God. Sometimes this created tension in our relationship.

But I believe that the strength of our relationship was proven by the fact that we worked at our differences and (both being very persistent) we never gave up trying to make the relationship the best. As the years passed, and especially in the recent months, I found that our differences were few and, on so many important issues, our views converged. I had lots of special “chats” with Dad about life and people and we talked openly about the Lord.

One of the most special things for me is that Dad expressed his desire to be looked after by Tony and me and our church family when he died. He said that he could not go to church now, but he wanted to make his commitment known.

Only three weeks ago, I had to go away to Brisbane for five days for work and study. He told me on the night before I was to go, “You won’t want to hear this…but I have to tell you…I am slipping away. The TV and that news – it holds no interest for me any more…it will be better for your Mum…”  

I held his arm and I said, both seriously and yet it was sort of a joke (he always loved a joke): “Dad, don’t you slip away while I’m away. Please don’t go while I am in Brisbane. I want to be here to say ‘Goodbye’ to you. Not that it’ll be goodbye. Remember the things we’ve talked about…about Jesus and trusting in Him. We will meet again one day – it will be just farewell for a little while…”

“Yes, I am trusting the Lord. I am not going to that other place.” He always made a joke. But I knew he meant what he said.

I prayed very earnestly, and many people also prayed, that Dad would not die while I was in Brisbane. God knew, and Dad knew, I wanted to be with him.

On Tuesday, when Dad died, I was with him. I was able to tell him I loved him and that God loved him and I was able to say, “Goodbye”, if just for a little while.

Everything that God does is at the right time. He makes no mistakes, and he lovingly listens to the prayers of those who turn to Him. He makes everything beautiful in its time. It is God who shows Himself and His plan to us if we are willing to turn to Him.

Judy Salecich, 24 June 1999

WORDS OF HOPE

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men…” 

(New International Version, 1984)