I have good days and bad days, good hours and bad hours. Currently, I have no words. I am numb. I miss my Father dearly, but, between the physical, emotional, spiritual and mental exhaustion of the last week, I can't think right now. Below is the talk I wrote for my Father's memorial, but not necessarily as I gave it. I also included pictures of my Pops' last couple days. FYI - I didn't take any photos of my Dad after he passed other than of his tattoo.
This is, quite honestly, the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. First and most obvious, having just lost my Father, it is an intimidating prospect to prepare a talk after such an emotionally tumultuous week. It has been a devastating time, yet simultaneously provided precious moments with my Father, Mother and Brothers that I will treasure for the rest of my life. Secondly, as I pondered the thought of writing this talk, the question haunted me again and again, “How do I accurately present what type of man my Father was? How do I portray this great, but simple man?” I finally found relief in the fact that I don’t have to. Each of you here today are a testament of his character and just how special he was. You each have had personal experiences with him, great and small, that caused you to be here today to honor his life. I hope I can share a few of my experiences with you today and add upon your feelings of love for my Father.
You may know him as Raymond or Bud, or Buddy. He may have been your Coach or Scoutmaster, Webelo Leader or Primary Teacher. Perhaps to you he was a neighbor, a co-worker or simply a friend. You may have called him Brother, Uncle, Cousin or Son-in-law. My Mom called him Chopo, hon or lovey dovey. My brothers and I call him Pops, D.O.D. or Dear Old Dad. Our friends have called him Sir, Just Bud or JB. Dad used to tell everybody to call him “anything you want, just don’t call him late for dinner”. One of the things I remember most of all about Dad is that you can just call him. For anything. And many did. My Dad personified the word, “Selfless”. Whether you were family, a neighbor, a friend or just some guy he barely met, he would, without a doubt in my mind, give you the shirt off his back. He made himself available to anyone in need. He willingly loaned his truck to help others move. He gave of his time and patience to teach Scouts to live their oath and law. He shared his talents to help others and willingly loaned anything to anyone at anytime.
My Dad loved everybody and everybody loved my Dad. He was quick with a smile and waved to every passerby whether he knew them or not. On multiple occasions, standing in front of my house, I have waved to passers by and then promptly asked by whomever was with me, “Who was that?” To which I often replied, “I don’t know.” My friend would then respond, “Why would you wave to someone you don’t know?” My answer came without hesitation, “Because my Dad did.” Pops was friendly and kind to everyone he met and tried his whole life to treat each person the same regardless of race, religion or status. He was a trusting man and believed that everybody had good in them and that each person was of divine worth. I remember one such example of this quality. Anybody who knows my Dad and my family frequently visited 7 Eleven. My Father had noticed during one such visit a drunk man causing a scene which in turn caused the store employee to call the police. My Dad, assuming the best of the drunk, thought he might just be in need of help after a tough day. My Dad helped the man into his car and drove him home. As it turns out, the man was a member of the gang, The Chino Sinners. As my Dad dropped the gang member off at his home, Dad was greeted by his appreciative gang family. They expressed their gratitude by telling him that at Dad’s time of need, they would come to his rescue if they ever saw his green Ford Pinto being harassed by the police. As a side note, my Dad promptly painted his car bright yellow. Nonetheless, This is just one example of the kindness he displayed wherever he went to whomever he met.
As my Brothers have already explained, Dad was his own person. He was who he was and he made no apologies for it. Some may say he was eccentric. However unique or odd he was, in whatever way, he never let the opinions of others sway him from being his true self. I’m sure his long hair and earrings turned several heads as he walked down the aisle at church each Sunday, but still that didn’t bother him. In fact, I’m sure he reveled in it. Dad understood it was not the outer appearance and compliance to social norms that made a person good. At the end of the day, those that knew him would rather entrust their physical and spiritual lives to my Dad than others that looked the part. Dad was as I said before, a good man who put the concern and care of others before himself. He never let his eccentricities get in the way of what was most important. He wasn’t always eccentric. Sometimes he was just different. As his journal put it, “You take a boy out of the mountains and throw him in the big city...he just isn’t going to fit in.”
Whether you call it different, unique or eccentric, he was that way from the get go. My Mom even recalls him always wearing red socks when she first met him. In fact… He was a modern hipster well before his time. He certainly did what pleased him. Whether it meant ridicule or not. His individuality was and will likely remain the source of many laughs in my family, but make no mistake, we truly love and appreciate the man who is the source of those laughs.
I think the characteristic I appreciate more than any other is his ability to teach. Since learning of his terminal cancer, many have reached out to me and my family to share their love for Bud and the occasional story of how he influenced their lives. Most of those stories involve Dad teaching something. Whether it was teaching Jake how to use wood working tools as they built his Pinewood Derby car or teaching Stewart how to overcome his fear of the water and learn to swim. He even taught Mont to love the taste and warmth of hot coffee on a freezing cold morning at a high mountain church camp! Of course, Mormon’s don’t drink coffee so Dad told Mont it was de-caffienated so he would drink it and overcome the effects of hypothermia. Dad was exceptionally talented with his hands and tools. He taught me and my brothers how to mow the lawn, chop wood, shoot a gun, string a bow, gut a fish, fix a bike and change the oil.
I don’t recall him sitting us down and giving us oral lessons on life. It just wasn’t his way. The most profound thing I ever heard my Dad say was, “He who felt it, dealt it.” That being said, he was the best teacher without saying anything at all. He knew and understood the power of teaching by example. He taught us how to be respectful to our elders by showing his interest in the things they had done in their lives. He taught us to love the women in our lives by helping my Mother with household chores and being her right hand man without request and without limits or complaint. He showed us the importance of family by declining personal career advancement so he could be with us every evening and on the weekend. From him we learned the importance of prayer and faith in God as he prayed with us at meals and bedtime. He taught us to love the sinner and hate the sin by embracing those who lived by a different code of ethics than us while remaining solid in his own values. He taught us that kindness, whether reciprocated or not, is a worthwhile venture, by waving at every person he met and always offering a smile or gesture of goodwill. He taught us faith in the priesthood by exercising his priesthood power or calling on those who could when he could not. He was a teacher of the highest calibre; possibly incapable of verbal instruction, but he displayed a genuine love for the student he influenced and a genuine belief in the values he lived. What greater teacher can there be?
As we learned of Dad’s cancer and we became painfully aware that his time would be cut short, I spent many sleepless nights reminiscing about my time with Dad and pondering his effect in my life. One thing that I have always known is that my Dad did not have a happy childhood. While the details are porous and uncertain, one thing is certain, he felt he lived the tough life of the under privileged and feels a great disappointment in his Father. The more I studied the early life of Dad, the more inconsistencies I found and the more confused I became. We have always known my Dad to be a storyteller and he loved to embellish the details. I’ve learned that the reality of things probably lie somewhere in between, but Dad’s perception was his reality. For whatever reason, his reality included unhappy memories of his Father. I realize Father/Children issues are often cyclical and repeat for generations. It was notably obvious that my Dad had no intention of duplicating anything that caused him unhappiness as a child and worked hard to maintain a strong relationship between he and his sons. This fact only serves to make me appreciate my Dad even more. He was an amazing Father to me, Jim and Scott. Whatever may or may not be the truth about Dad and the life he had, one thing is certainly true and that is his love for me and my brothers. Being a Father meant more to him than anything. There is nothing truer about his life than this. If the rest of his life were a lie, this fact would remain; he loved us boys to the end and being our Father was his greatest accomplishment.
We were his everything. He immersed himself until the end in the things that he thought would help us or in the things he knew we had an interest in. This meant coaching baseball and soccer; sports he never played in his life. It meant involvement in Scouts which led to a more than 10 year commitment to Webelos where he would affect the lives of many other young men. We meant so much to him that he put his retirement and financial future on hold so that we could have the bikes we wanted or wear the latest fashions or so that we could attend Scout camps, sport camps or play on sports teams. He took great pride in giving us the things he felt he didn’t have as a child and, as a result, we never went without. He worked hard along side my Mother to create experiences and memories that would last our entire lives. Experiences such as camping, road trips, visiting family, vacations and more.
He most thoroughly enjoyed teaching us the things he enjoyed in life. As an example all three of us have a deep love of the outdoors and continue to practice the respect for Mother Nature that he taught us. We know to leave our campsite better than we found it and to not pollute the ocean. Each of us, though not practiced, are comfortable with power tools and the safe use of them. We know to measure twice and cut once. None of us fix our own vehicles today, but due to Dad’s instructions early on, I am confident we could, if required. I, as well as Jim and Scott, enjoy fishing and know how to bait a hook, gut a fish and that the guts should be buried by the rose bushes so as to give back to Earth that which was was given to us.
Dad made our interests, his interests. As I mentioned before, Dad became a soccer coach and avid soccer fan as Scott progressed at the game. Dad showed a love for motorcycles as Jim began riding. Dad, by association, became USC’s biggest fan. In fact, Dad would often call me at the oddest hours to ask if I was watching “the game”. I was initially confused. I knew that USC didn’t play on a Wednesday morning or on a Sunday night, but Dad made it perfectly clear he was watching the game as we spoke. As it turned out, Dad was watching ESPNU, which often aired classic games of the past, but it never occurred to him that the game he was watching was a rerun from last week or last year or even last decade. All he knew was that USC was playing and that his #1 son was a huge fan. Therefore, he was a huge fan and it was an excuse to call and talk. I don’t know if he ever figured out how I always knew what the outcome of the game was going to be. I wouldn’t be upset if he just thought I was a genius. I am sure he is in the courts on high today, wearing cardinal and gold with the hosts of heaven who will all be singing “Fight On!” as they hopefully trounce the Bruins. Right, Tim?
Dad did his best to never let our temporal shortcomings get in the way of enjoying life, a lesson he learned early on in his childhood. You make the best of what you’ve got. One very fond memory of Dad is when we would go to Craig Park in Brea as a family. We didn’t have fishing poles or the assortment of hooks, bobbers and bait. Dad and I would scour the ground looking for fishing line with a hook attached then we would rummage for a marshmallow or something else we could use to attract the fish. Lastly, we would find a stick to attach the string to, then, under his instruction, I would throw the short second hand line, hook and bait into the pond as far as I could and wait. I watched and listened for my Dad’s signal and when he told me to run, I would turn around and run up the hill, dragging my prize along the ground behind me. I ALWAYS caught a fish at Craig park and I not once ever used a pole. Dad was the greatest Father a boy could ever hope for. This much I know and nothing matters more to me. For it is because of him that I am the Father I am to my children, Leah and Dax, today.
Dad was more spiritual than he was religious. He was raised a Methodist though the only memory he sights in his journal is that he went to church every Sunday and his Mom and Sister would sit between he and his Father in order to keep them awake. He never understood why, but he found church the perfect place to sleep. Dad took the term “Sunday is a day of rest” quite literally. In fact, growing up, I always admired my Dad’s rare talent to sleep through church meetings without snoring or doing that head bobbing thing. Only those on the stand knew Dad was sleeping. As I said, while he was not always religious, he was spiritual and his relationship with God was most important to him. In fact, when writing in his journal what were the five most important life lessons he had learned, he cited that the most important was to turn to God for help through prayer. He noted in his journal that he always had an understanding that God loved him, but didn’t realize just how much until he joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. His favorite scripture was Matthew 5, The Sermon on the Mount and I believe it was his life’s goal to live by the tenants Christ taught in those verses.
As is the case with all of us Trosper boys, Dad’s better half is his wife, Leslie. If you don’t believe me, you could have asked Dad and he would have told you. Dad returned the favor and was an amazing husband. If you don’t believe me, ask my Mom. She’ll verify it. He loved her more than life itself. This love was shown in everything he did. I don’t recall Dad being the romantic type, but I do remember my Dad and Mom being very affectionate most of the time. It was not uncommon for me or one of my brothers or all of us in unison to yell, “EWWWW” at the sight of them kissing. I am grateful for that today. It is this commitment and love for the sanctity of marriage that has been passed along to me and acts as the foundation in mine and Sarah’s relationship. Dad’s cousin, Michelle told me once that my Dad was her hero. That he loved my Mom entirely and she learned from watching them at an early age that she wanted a man that would love her “all out” as she had witnessed with Dad and Mom.
In fact many felt that same way. Mom and Dad were the epitome of a perfect and loving marriage. They were best friends, the most solid union of man and woman. Nothing would ever break them apart, or so we thought. Unfortunately, as life had proven to us all, we are not without weakness and error in judgment. Dad’s later years haunted him with depression and confusion as to who he was and what he wanted and, as a result, chose to divorce my Mom. After much counseling, Mom went along with his wishes, all the while, never ceasing to love him. Even up to his last breath, he was her sweetheart and she was his best friend. The news of their divorce was difficult for them to deliver and equally difficult for us to receive. Many were shocked and confused at the announcement, but even this testifies to just how amazing their marriage was; a testimony of how great a husband he was. Up to this point, they had set the bar pretty high as to what was the perfect marriage and everybody recognized that. On their 20th anniversary they were sealed for all eternity in the Los Angeles Temple in 1988. A covenant made to each other that neither ever showed interest in breaking, not even in divorce. Moments after Dad died, I embraced my Mom and she sobbed as she said “I’m no longer divorced.” They will be together forever.
I want to take a moment to express my gratitude and love for this woman I call Mum. What a wonderful woman she is. She sacrificed all for her eternal mate in his final days. Nothing in this life meant more than to be by his side and reaffirm what she had told him since the day they married; that she loved him and that she was committed to him forever. I love her for this and want her to know that.
I have always found hope in their marriage and our eternal family. I am comforted in my knowledge of Heavenly Father’s plan for all of us. I know that this life is not the end. I know that I will be reunited with Pops again, as will my Mom. The thought warms my soul as I look forward to the day when I can embrace him and feel his warm rough hands on my face again. This knowledge helps me cope with the difficulties of this life; be they physical pains or emotional trials, I know that my suffering is but a moment. I know that my Savior suffered and died for me, and for my Father, so that we could overcome the sins and pains of this life, as well as death, and be reunited with Him, our families and our Heavenly Father eternally. As my Father suffered on his death bed his final days, it broke my heart. I physically ached at the sight of his suffering. My prayers quickly turned from those pleading for his healing to those pleading for his release. The only thing that soothed my soul was my faith in the life hereafter and the knowledge that he shed his pains when he shed his body. At that time, and I safely speak for everybody in my family, we experienced much grief and even more relief.
I want to express my love for my God. I know he knows me and I know he knows my Dad. I don’t know how he couldn’t. I am certain He has heard my Dad’s name thousands of times throughout his life as those my Dad affected prayed in gratitude to God for “sending Bud to their rescue”. Buddy is a perfect nickname for Dad. He was a buddy to all and everyone loved him. I can only imagine how sweet the reunion in heaven was as Pops passed into the next realm and was greeted by so many he touched that had passed previously. I hope his reunion included a long hug for me with my Grandpa Bliss and his Mother, my Grandma Brewer. I am so grateful for God’s love of me and you; So great a love that he gave his only begotten Son to die on our behalf so that His plan may be complete. Today, I am most grateful for a Father who taught me to be grateful for these things. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
