Heart

My dad was an incredible orator.  It was a gift that made him an exceptional trial attorney.  He had charisma and way with words.  He was honest and trustworthy and the jurors could sense it.  My sister got more of his gift than I did, but I will say I inherited a small piece.  My delivery could never be as stellar as his, but speaking in front of a large group of people was never something I stressed too much about (thanks to dad).  I remember a public speaking course in college.  It was talked about and dreaded by most.  I of course loved it.  I got to write and then share my thoughts to an audience that was forced to be an engaged and enthusiastic audience.  I can be shy in so many ways, but public speaking is something I enjoy.


I had spoken at two funerals before.  My mom does not love the limelight of public speaking so I had spoken on her behalf.  For my grandma's service I composed the thoughts of her and my aunts.  For our cousin's I simply read my mom's beautiful words.  I know that no one expected me to speak at my dad's Celebration of Life, but it was something I knew I needed to do.  I needed to share and honor him that afternoon out loud for all to hear.  Looking back now I do not know how I did it.  


From the moment I knew that I would indeed be speaking I began to compose the words I wanted to say.  It was not until that Saturday morning, several hours before the service, that I actually sat down and typed them.  There was so much to say.  How do you put such an incredible man into words?  How do you truly convey to others everything you know because you are his daughter?  I knew deep down that he already knew what I felt and that is what mattered most.


At the service I felt as if there were a bubble around my head. When I stood up and looked at 600 teary-eyed people staring at me I just started to talk.  I was doing well, holding it together when all of the sudden there was a commotion to my left.  Someone had collapsed, they called for a doctor (there were several there considering my dad was a medical defense attorney).  I remember stepping to the side and thinking "this can not be happening", "this man has to be okay", thankfully he was and I was able to finish my words.


Tonight, I felt the need to look at those words again and share them.  These words are raw and were a guide for my thoughts.  They are heartfelt and true.  So far, my blog has been about my dad and the journey of the past 6 months.  This is just another way to share a part of him with anyone who wants to read.

“Heart”-Jenn Hubbard

September 3, 2011

Thank you to Messner and Reeves: Darcee, Michelle, Bruce…

As I look out today at the amount of people here who loved my father, the irony becomes so apparent… the same thing that made him so special, is the exact thing that took him too soon.  His heart… his too big, enlarged, oversized, hard working heart that he gave so willingly to so many.  For me it has been comforting to know that on Tuesday night he was not in pain, he did not know what was happening… his enlarged, too big heart just stopped… years too soon.

My father was an extraordinary man.  I knew this before Tuesday, but now more than ever as people have shown their love and support for our family, but most of all their love for my dad. 

When you are a little girl, you love your dad simply because he is your dad.  And little girls, love their daddy’s.  As I have gotten older, I began to understand that I love my dad for more than that.  My appreciation of him as a husband, father, son, brother, uncle, colleague and friend grew as I saw the integrity, strength, work ethic, honesty and love that he exemplified everyday.  As I have gotten older I have come to understand that not everyone has a father that they love and admire… I am so lucky.

I have also figured out that not all kids grow seeing parents that truly love one another… that are best friends… I did.  My parents’ relationship began when they were 18.  Actually if you go back and look in middle school year books you will see them in the same pictures… little did they know.  They found each other at the very end of their senior year… and they continued to love one another and get through four years apart when my dad was away at Beloit and now 33 years later the same rings true.  My parents’ love was and is inspirational.  They truly liked one another, supported one another, encouraged one another and made each other laugh.  I can’t begin to explain the number of times that we would all be together and my parents would be cracking up, completely amused by one another, while my brother, sister and I sat there trying to understand what just happened.  It didn’t matter that we didn’t understand, what matters is that they did.  I was talking to my mom last night and asked her if there was anything she needed me to say and what she described is exactly what I knew… that it was all the little things, the phone calls at the same time to talk about the exact same thing, the ability to finish one another’s sentences, the humor they found in one another, their ability to know what the other was thinking and act accordingly, the respect they shared for each other, my dad rolling over and patting my mom in the middle of the night just to be sure she was still there… their love of their family and the true friendship they had.  We are an “I love you” saying family. We say it when we mean it and we mean it when we say it and we say it a lot.  I heard my parents say I love you each and everyday… but it was watching them, their actions, their touch, their looks, and their laughter that truly showed their unwavering love of one another. I am so grateful that they had just recently spent the time together that they had: our family trip to WI, their trips to Napa Valley and then to Las Vegas all so recent.  They had so much fun together and I know that my mom will cherish those memories from the past month.  It would be my greatest wish for everyone in this room to have love like my parents.

Their love extended from them down to us kids.  We too were at the core of what my father valued and adored. He loved being a dad and from the moment each of us was born, we knew he loved us unconditionally. Yes, he was always my dad first, but beyond that he was my friend. You will here from everyone how passionate my dad was about everything he felt important… work was one of those things and he was good at it, but it never got in the way of him being a good husband and dad.  That came first.  Some people would find out my dad was a successful trial attorney and assumptions would be made that he was a workaholic… don’t get me wrong, he did work 6 even 7 days a week pretty often (and so do I now… wonder where I got that work ethic from)… but he NEVER missed a thing… NEVER!  My dad was a patient husband and father.  I would like to tell you our family is perfect, but of course we have our moments.  Us kids used to laugh that we just wish he would get mad and then we could move on with our day.  Instead he wanted to sit and talk through it… my dad did not like conflict (and he was an attorney… ha) and he took solving conflict seriously.  He gave us time and took the time to teach us and help us learn and grow (maybe that is why I have been wearing his watch since Tuesday, because I know we were always worth his time).  I realize now that his patience and calm demeanor is part of the secret ingredient my parents had in how they raised us kids.  We were important to him and we always knew that. I will never forget the way he answered the phone when I called, “Hellooooo Jenniferrrrr”, the long lasting nick name “Jenny Wacker”, that he never missed a game or a ceremony, he always texted us when he was at the airport, that he tucked me in every night as a kid and told us a made up story about a family of squirrels, the concerts, the laughter, the jokes, the friendly teasing, the true understanding he had of me as a person.

I could stand up here and talk about my father all day and never run out of stories or words for my dad.  The past week the stories that have been told about him by family, friends, colleagues… have brought so much joy and comfort. I encourage everyone to continue to tell the stories of my father… I think it is healing and know it brings me joy in this difficult time. 

I find comfort in knowing I have no regrets in my relationship with my dad… I can look back and know that our relationship was honest and true and perfect.  While there are so many memories from my 26 years, there are so many from the past 8 months that stand out.  My dad was so happy… he was in such a perfect spot in his life and career.  From our week visit to see Kristin in DC, the U2 Concert and visiting our favorite place on earth at the Reuggers house on the lake in WI.  We had spent so much quality time together.  And my most clear and treasured memory is that he had bought me a bike in April and I had spent this summer learning to ride with my dad (me struggling to keep any where near him as he cruised on).  Last Sunday I had planned to go to work, but talked to my dad early in the morning, both of us sitting and drinking our black coffee.  I decided instead to go meet him and “Team Booty” at his office for bloody mary’s and bike ride to the Pro Cycling Challenge finish.  I can still hear his voice cheering for Levi and the excitement in his eye as the racers went cruising by.  He had always hoped he would someday go see the Tour de France and on Sunday he felt like he had gotten so close, he was so happy.  He bought me my first official riding jersey that day. That day was meant to be, for him and me.  I will treasure that time with my dad, his friends and doing his favorite thing the rest of my life.  I am also so grateful that he got to know and like my boyfriend Brian… my dad got to see me truly happy and in love.  And he told me a while ago how happy he was for me.  My dad always said what he felt.  I knew my dad was proud of me, because he told me.

Right now it is hard to look forward… getting married, having babies… but there is so much comfort looking back at the memories.  Music will be my healing instrument.  My dad loved music… our family loves music.  In the music I see my dad and wonderful memories flood my body and mind.  Someday, when I feel strong enough I will get back up on my bike and ride in memory of him… I am so grateful he was doing what he loved when this happened.  Promise me you will keep riding up there dad… someday I will come find you and we can ride together again.  I love you Dad and will miss you dearly.