One of the hardest things I have ever done was deliver the eulogy at Rick's funeral.
I had thoughts prepared.
I had beautiful friends standing by, ready to step in and read them for me if I just gave the signal.
But it was important to me that these things were said. And I was proud of myself for doing it. Just like I am proud that I was part of Rick's amazing, amazing life.
Rick Smiley never does
anything half way.
I remember that thought first concretely crossing my mind right
outside on the front stairs of this church. It was a day in early May three
years ago. Rick had just come home from the hospital after having surgery right
after his brain tumor diagnosis and the parish was having a Spring yard and
grounds clean up. We were new to the
whole cancer thing and desperately trying to do normal things. We brought a
folding chair along- the idea being that Rick could relax in the fresh air
while we cleaned up the flower beds around the church and school. But he
couldn't stand to sit in that chair long and soon he was trimming rose bushes
and digging out weeds right along with us. We were finishing up that day and I
had swept the debris from the concrete right outside in what I thought was a
satisfactory manner. Rick gently took
the broom from me and swept it up in a ship shape manner.
Rick Smiley never does
anything half way.
The evidence was early. When he was in elementary school back in
the day, for some reason in gym class they split up the kids based on their
athletic ability. The fastest runners, highest jumpers, strongest chin uppers
wore gold shorts to gym class. The medium performers wore red shorts. The slowest kids wore white shorts maybe.
Rick prided himself on always qualifying to wear gold shorts.
Rick enlisted in the Navy when he was an 18 year old kid. He chose the job of cook because he had had a
job at a local hotel and enjoyed working in the kitchens there even though the
recruiter tried to talk him into a more challenging job. At the end of Navy
cook school someone came to the class looking for volunteers to go to submarine
training. Anyone who knows anything about Navy cuisine knows that the food that
is prepared on board submarines is the best food to be had on land or sea. If
Rick was going to be a cook he was going to be a submarine cook.
Rick Smiley never does
anything half way.
Because Rick came to the submarine force in somewhat of an
unusual way, he had somewhat of an unusual career. He served on board 7 submarines. He rose
through the ranks rather quickly and made Chief in 9 years. He received a
direct commission and became a Supply Officer and went back to the submarine
force, becoming a rare sailor with both silver and gold dolphin warfare pins.
Along the way he was afforded the opportunity to cook at the White House, cycle
on the Navy's competitive bicycle racing team, and travel with the Navy SEALs
with what he said was literally a briefcase of cash handcuffed to his wrist in
order to procure for the SEALs whatever they needed wherever they happened to
be in the world. If you weren't hearing the James Bond theme music in your head
before, I hope you are now.
Rick retired from the Navy and moved to Columbus to be close to a
certain cute Navy dentist he had met while stationed in Iceland and he said his
dream was to run a bed and breakfast. So we bought a house and Rick set about
rehabbing it from to top to bottom, in some places taking it down to the studs,
and he built a beautiful home, mostly with his own two hands and he ran the
kind of bed and breakfast where the soft sheets were freshly ironed and there
were always oatmeal-craisin-chocolate chunk-pecan cookies on hand.
Rick Smiley never does
anything half way.
Our children came along and I probably don't need to tell you
what kind of father he was. A lot of you got to see it first hand. I will say
that it filled my heart with joy to bursting to see Rick nurture and love our
children and it made me fall in love with him all over again. He was the
ultimate caregiver and he took good care of us.
Rick Smiley never does
anything half way.
And then Rick got cancer. He couldn't get just any old kind of
cancer. He had to get one of the big baddies. Because I am a healthcare
provider, my instinct is to turn to the literature when I am dealing with an
unfamiliar diagnosis. So I tried to read journal articles to inform myself but
I could never get past phrases like "abysmal prognosis" and "18
month average survival" and "one of the deadliest". But in true
Rick Smiley fashion he faced it with dignity and courage and befriended the
other patients in the hospital waiting rooms, and joked with the nurses, and
was basically a shining light in the sad places that chemotherapy suites and
oncology wards can be. Our oncologist actually said that whatever Rick was
doing to cope with the illness and treatments, he wished he would sprinkle it
over the other patients on his way by. And Rick did his best to lift up
everyone around him.
And in living his life the way he did, he gave us a tremendous
gift.
A gift to me.
A gift to William.
A gift to Soren.
A gift to all of us who knew him.
He gave us a beautiful example of how to be strong.
How to love.
How to have faith.
And when you do those things never do them half way.
