The boys’ beloved Grumps died one week ago today. There’s so much I can say about my unique father-in-law and I plan on sharing some memories in upcoming blogs.

Grumps & Stephen circe 1983. Doesn’t that shot of Stephen look just like Houston (minus the red hair and freckles)?!

But for now, I will leave you with the eloquent and heart-felt words of Stephen, who wrote and read the following for his dad’s eulogy. We miss you, Grumps!

On Tuesday, April 16th, around 2:30 P.M. my dad, Clarence Lee Dillingham passed from this world to the next. He passed peacefully and painlessly after battling congestive heart failure for nearly three years. During the last year, his health degraded significantly and, though he had to lean on mom more and more, he never relinquished his willful and self-reliant attitude. In fact, just a couple of weeks ago, he called me to see if I would agree to be a straw-purchaser so he could pick up a new Henry .357 Big Boy rifle. We thought about asking people to give to the NRA in his name, but we figured the Church needed the donations more.

Myself and many of his friends and family will remember my dad as a passionate man who was never afraid to express himself. Whether it be in visceral disagreement or in loving embrace, it was usually pretty obvious the regard with which he held any individual or idea. How many people have a Clarence road-rage story? Does it involve thrown projectiles? What about firearms?

Clarence was a man of extremes and contradictions. He was sometimes brooding and sometimes jovial. He could be incredibly stubborn, but at times was amazingly open-minded. As an adolescent, I never knew if my mistakes would be greeted with reprehension or understanding. I vividly remember getting one of a handful of “real” spankings by his hand after peeing in the backyard in front of the neighbor girl. I also remember the Christmas presents from him when I was 18 years old: a twelve pack of Heineken and a carton of Marlboro lights. Though as I kid, my friends and I were deathly afraid of him, as I matured, I came to understand what most of his long-time friends knew to be true: his bark was much worse than his bite.

Dad was a lover. He appreciated good music, food, and libation. He enjoyed sharing fun times with friends and family. I knew I had finally come of age when Rebecca, mom, dad, some friends and I saw the Allman Brothers at Verizon Amphitheater in Charlotte. He ended up rolling down the hill into some fellow concert-goers and I ended up getting carried out of the venue like a wounded soldier after the show was over. He reveled in reminiscing of times past and of contemplating how he would treat his loved-ones after he “won the lottery.”

As I grew older, I learned things about my dad that were not so obvious — he as a dreamer, an adventurer, and a romantic. He told me once he would have out-of-body experiences as a way to pass the time when he was bored in school. He traveled the world and appreciated foreign cultures, sampling horse meat in Columbia and experiencing pre-Castro Cuba. His life was a witness to the Great Depression, the Space Race, and the Cold War. He got beat-up in high school after daring to question the policies of Franklin Roosevelt. When Alan Shepard landed in the Caribbean after the Freedom 7 spaceflight, he was lucky enough to get an autograph. As a bartender downrange, he served Walter Cronkite to the point of obvious inebriation. And when my dad was a young man, he was hurt by someone he loved and he carried that pain with him the rest of his life.

Clarence was never a pious man and there’s no doubt many would have considered his character as lacking at times, but he was not self-righteous either. He  was always willing to admit when he came short of what was expected from him. “Do as a I say and not as I do” was a refrain I heard repeatedly as a  child. Later in life he came to accept his shortcomings and entered into a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. In all my years of knowing him, I don’t think I ever saw his heart melt as much as it did when he described to me of his experience participating in a play at church re-creating the Last Supper. He felt humbled, honored, and loved being able to participate in such an endeavor. I know he struggled with accepting God’s Grace as he knew he was not deserving. None of us are.

So today I encourage you to do as Clarence would want you to do to honor him and the times you may have shared with him.

Say a prayer, pour a shot, lift a glass and kiss your lover
Plan a trip, climb a mountain, hit the road and pour another
Put on your boots, play some Skynard, give a hoot and a holler
Love your mother, forgive your son, and hold close your daughter
Be content with the things you have and share them when you are able
Live independently and for today, eschewing any label
Love Jesus for he loves you, no matter what your sin was
So hold on tight to your time that’s left and never let your joy pause