10/28/2025
There he goes again, taking off up the trail without using his hiking stick.
My dad Larry was a stubborn but patient, beautiful and rugged man. He died a few weeks ago -- and maybe you already knew that because word gets around on these here social medias. The time between then and now has allowed me to ruminate, feel, and process. Dad was also a private man, and I think I'm becoming more like him every year.
Dad loved thunderstorms and sunny blue skies equally. He loved the open road, and a trail with really good views. He loved mountains and deserts, rivers and caves. He loved crows caw-ing above him, and mushrooms on the forest floor. He loved hamburgers and fries. And steak. And ribs. And trail mix, and chips, and cookies, and buttered popcorn. He loved lukewarm black coffee, root beer, and strawberry malts. He loved unique rocks, yard sales with tools. He loved my brothers and me, and he loved our partners in life. But he loved my mom, more than anything else.
He hated beets and peas. He couldn't stand snow, or even a chilly breeze on his neck. He didn't like his cane, then he didn't like his walker. He despised the medication and losing his balance. He was frustrated about forgetting things. He missed the freedom of a body without the Parkinson's tremors. But he missed my mom, more than anything else.
I equally love the stubborn man who raised me, and the gentle, generous man who I got to know so well the last decade.
Goodbye, Dad. No more tremors, I promise. No more hiking sticks, canes, walkers, wheelchairs, weighted silverware, speech therapy, saliva gland injections, crushed pills in applesauce, ground level falls, or trips to the ER. Keep on hiking up that trail, Dad, there's some really good views up ahead.
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A memorial service and interment of ashes will be in one week: Monday, November 3, 2025 at 11:00 AM at the Good Shepherd Presbyterian Church, 611 N 2450 E, St. George, Utah. It's open to all who've known Larry or his family.