Dad's Memorial

We were able to gather together Friday night for a FHE.  We opened with How Great Thou Art.  Scott shared a lesson on the plan of salvation and incorporated a drawing and lesson that dad had done at some point.  We shared stories and read some poems. Rick wrote a poem about dad and he read it to mom but then he had to catch flight to go to work so Mckenna read it Friday night.  He did awesome.   Dean wrote one but he hasn't shared it with us but I will add it when he does.  Played spoons and rotten eggs and Eli sang for us.  We cried and laughed and it was wonderful to honor our dad in a way he would like.  Saturday we had a BBQ and Shirley brought Maine hotdogs which we had not had in years.  They were really good.  Dean manned the BBQ and it was good to be all together.  Lexi announced that she was pregnant so that was exciting for everyone.  We knew about it a few weeks earlier and I had told Dad the day I was leaving that a new great grand baby would be joining us in September or October. 

(written by Dean Merrill)

Our dad was a simple farmer that worked the whole day through

He cut the hay, fenced the fields, and milked the cows too.

There was no time for travel or vacations of any kind

But when his children wanted to play, the time he did find.

Because his family was his world and there’s nothing he would not do

To make sure we had the things we needed, of this we always knew.

He taught us kids so many things like knowing right from wrong

And being kind to others who felt like they did not belong.

Dad had a quiet, kind, and gentle presence that others could always feel

They seemed to seek him out for words of advice, all part of his appeal.

This man from Maine was never a socialite and liked to stay at the house

To watch the news, do Sudoku, read a book, or just hang out with his spouse.

His second love was nature, and flower pollination was his game

He could take you out to his magnificent garden and knew each by name.

His collection of Iris and Lilies would always draw a crowd

People would stop to take pictures and I know it made him proud.

Besides the plants, dad loved animals and we had plenty at the farm

He always had such a way with them, it must have been his charm.

Even our horse Jazzman felt a unique and jealous connection  

He went after mom one day when she tried to show some affection.

Dad started a new phase in his life when the grandkids came

He knew that his life would never ever be the same.

For he loved all of them equally and without fail

He and grandma would send birthday cards out in the mail.

Of course no love compared to what he felt for his wife

She had always been the one, the true love of his life.

They would be united in taking both the bad and the good

Just like any dedicated, happily married couple should.

Yes, this simple farmer touched our lives in so many ways

And though he would not want it, he deserves all of our praise.

It is true he will not garner much worldly recognition or fame

But all of us, his family, will remember his legacy his name.

WE LOVE YOU DAD!!!!

The Gardener (Rick Daniels)

The gardener could see the bloom in the bud
So it pleased him to toil in the soil and the mud
His mind could perceive each bright color or hue
In the dull browns and grays ere the sprout could peek through


To foster life was his gift and to nurture his pleasure
It brought him great joy, a joy beyond measure
For years he did husband a milk bearing herd
And they did respond to his call or his word

He liked many a blossom,raised many a flower
He would study each species hour by hour
To find out their habit, their want and their need
Whether a sapling, a sprout or a seed


Choosing the rose despite labor and thorn
He busied himself though tired and worn
To prune and to cut, prepping the way
For each precious petal to color the day


He had a gentle way in all of his work
Though tired and sore he never did shirk
His grand opus took time, this he could not hurry
Never a planting had made him thus worry


Bursting forth one at a time, a commotion!
And every one different, he hadn’t a notion
Thank heavens his helpmeet was there for the ride
These roses were crazy, and he couldn’t hide


They dug in together, a gardener and wife
They nurtured and prayed over each little life
Then Viola! the seedlings had every one grown
Some bearing tiny florets of their own!


The gardener was happy with the life he did live
His roses were thriving from the love he did give
But alas he was slowing, the end of his race
The veil was quite open, his Father’s face


The Gardener could see the man in His child
He was nurturing, loving, tender and mild
He had developed a knack for taming the wild
Embracing him again, the Gardener smiled