LAVERN FUNERAL MESSAGE

On a bright summer day on Payette Lake Idaho

where my family spent their summers

my Dad and Uncle Orval and Uncle Lavern

decided it was time for my brother and I to learn to water ski.  

It was not so much our idea as it was my Uncles,

but it did look like fun and my older cousins knew how to ski

and being more like your older cousins was always a plus.  

So here’s the setup;

Uncle Orval in the boat,

Dad and Uncle Lavern standing in the water with me,

sort of holding me in position,

me strapped into a pair of miniature skis

with the noses of the skis tied together with a shoelace.

I would bob in the water while I struggled to get set

and when everything was just right

or at least sort of just right

or even just good enough,

I was to yell out “HIT IT!”

with all of the gusto my squeaky

prepubescent vocal cords could muster.  

As I laid back in the cold water, struggling with the skis I felt

the same thing everyone who has stepped through a

threshold into the unknown has felt.

I felt FEAR.  

I felt it tingle and race over my skin.  

I tasted it in my mouth.

I saw it as my vision narrowed

and then narrowed again

I wanted to scream,

I wanted to cry,

I wanted to run away,

I wanted it to just stop,

But these men

were my Dad and my Uncles.

These were the men in my life.

There was no one I wanted to impress more.

No one.

So I steeled myself against the fear

and the cold water

and the tug of the rope

and I threw caution to the wind and I yelled, “HIT IT!”

and the little boat leapt forward

and the skis pushed into the cold water

carving a trough through it

and my world became that trough

and I pushed the wobbly skis into it and the water curled and splashed.

I pulled hard against the rope

and the rope fought back struggling to break free of my grip,

and the muscles down the sides of my back tightened and

flexed against the bend of my spine and somehow slowly,

slowly I began to feel the water beneath me change.

I could feel the water transforming itself,

becoming more and more solid as we gained speed,

lifting me from the trough.  

I was doing it!

I was going to make it!             

And then I fell.

And all at once it was over,

the pull, the fight, the exhilaration.  

The rope was gone,

I could feel the sting of it as it slipped from my grip.  

The little boat was taking a long arc around me

I looked down at the skis now awkward and heavy as they hung beneath me

in the deep...black….water.  

Now, I wasn’t very far out,

I hadn’t even left our little lagoon

but I had never been this far out before.

I could swim,  I was used to the water,

but I was used to the friendly water, over there, near the shore.

And I turned toward shore and saw my Uncle Lavern

swimming toward me.

He was a strong swimmer and comfortable in the water.  

He soon swam up to me.

He helped me sort out the ski’s

He got me into position

and then he moved around behind me

and held me against his chest.

He felt strong and warm and secure.

His hairy chest felt strange against my little boy back.

His grown up man breath smelled foreign as he spoke over my shoulder,

telling me to lean back into him and calm myself in the water.  

He slowly and calmly recited what to do;

“lean back,

bring the tips of the ski’s out of the water,

bring your knees up toward your chest,

brace yourself for the pull of the rope”

And once again I yelled, “HIT IT!”

and I leapt from my Uncle’s embrace.  

Now I don’t recall how many times it actually took for me to get the hang of it.

The particulars have drifted off to that place where particulars go.

All I am left with are the memories

of the fear

and the fight

and the pride,

of the wanting to quit

and the not quitting,

of the strong and quiet encouragement

and the suddenness of the leap from my Uncle’s arms.  

I can remember it like it was yesterday.

Because I felt it again when I learned of my Uncle’s passing.

It came back to me vividly,

an old feeling that I’d been carrying with me for so very long,

like the sound of children playing in the next room

or the smell of Grandma’s house.

We often think of death as losing the ones we love.

We say they’ve been taken from us

as if torn from our loving embrace.

But this time it felt different.

It felt right.

You see, it wasn’t he that left my embrace

It was me that left his.

as I was bobbing in that cold water I was afraid.

In Lavern’s arms I felt security, assurity, safety.

Out there ahead of me was cold unforgiving water,

out there ahead of me was most certainly failure,

falling is as much a part of skiing as any other part of it.

But out there ahead of me was where I wanted to go.

Both of us knew that I could not stay there forever,

in the embrace, in the warmth, with the strong comforting

words spoken in my ear.

He knew

and I knew

That He was there

and I was there

to yell “HIT IT” ...and LEAP from his arms

to yell “HIT IT”   ...and RISE to the challenge

to yell “HIT IT”   ...and pull and strain and struggle

to yell “HIT IT”  ...and feel again the wind and the water and the exhilaration.

Because that way was the unwritten story of my life.

And that way was the enduring story of our family.

And that way was where he knew I should go.

And as I told my story today I could see your heads nod

and I could see you smile

as you remembered your own story

of the times this strong

and comforting man was there for you,

supporting you

encouraging you

Helping you become

that which you are today.

And so today we calm ourselves

In the cold black waters of our grief

we lean back into the comfort of each other

and we remember fondly his strength

and we forgive him kindly his weaknesses

and we recognize in each other

that we are the lucky ones

We are the ones he loved

and the ones who loved him

and if we listen closely

we will hear his voice in our voices

and we will hear his laugh in our laughter

and we will feel his strength

in the strength of each other

and we will Cary on.