On Monday We Buried My Dad

We buried my dad, Frank McBride, last Monday. He lived a hundred years, less a week-1920 to 2020. He was a boy during the Roaring Twenties, a scrambling teenager during the Great Depression when his family moved time and again as my grandfather hustled jobs. When World War II started, Pop enlisted and became a soldier for four years, spending two and a half years in Europe as a bomber ground crewman.

 Back home in Longview, Texas, he worked forty years for LeTourneau Inc, a manufacturer of heavy earth moving equipment and steel. His hobby was woodworking, making toys for his grandkids and all manner of smallish things.

Pop was a Christian with a servant’s heart who delivered Meals on Wheels well into his ‘80’s, volunteered at Good Shephard Hospital for decades, ran a woodworking class for elementary schools kids at his church’s after-school program, and oversaw the youth leadership training programs for the local Boy Scouts for years.  He was a Methodist Lay Speaker who preached at country churches, led a men’s Bible study, and went to the gym religiously.

He won a bout with double pneumonia when he was 97, and last week when his strong good heart finally had no more to give, my stepmother Della, my sister, my wife, and I were by his side.  It was a peaceful ending to a long and remarkable life.

Yesterday we were home again, and I was lost in my thoughts about Pop and the funeral.  I glanced out the back window and caught sight of two woodpeckers on a big oak tree in our back yard. The male had a fiery red head. I called for five-year-old grandson Jackson who was spending the day with us. We watched the birds working the tree trunk pecking for food, until they flew away, likely headed to their hidden nest. Then Jackson and I went to the computer to look at photos of woodpeckers and printed a drawing of one so he could color it to show his mom and dad when they got home.  I was thankful for the distraction of the birds and for Jackson’s happiness at seeing them.

I know it’s corny, but the woodpeckers reminded me that Pop is through feeding his family, through working the tree trunk, pecking at things trying to make his piece of the world a little better. His soul has flown away, and his remains lie inside a beautiful cedar casket, his earthbound nest for a long, long time. God is good.