My Father’s Embrace

Eulogy for W. Eugene Sherer (1943–2014) by Aaron Sherer, November 17, 2014

For the past twenty years I have lived far away from my parents and my relationship with my Dad was over this distance. My time with him was in short bursts with long periods in between. His presence, though, was always steady and assuring in my life. The world, often confusing and chaotic, was more safe and sound because Dad was in it, and he was good, and strong, and sure.

I expect that my grief will be felt in short bursts as well as steady absence. My Dad was a part of the daily lives of my siblings and their families. He was Mom’s constant companion. I believe his absence will be harder for them — all of you. Over the years I have felt some jealousy of their closely entwined lives — your closeness. Now you will grieve more directly, and you will also comfort and care for each other more directly.

My heart aches for your ever-present loss. Your every day will be different — a missing piece, a gap, an emptiness. Your loss is my loss, too. I share it with you, and I know you will comfort me. Now and again and again, over many trips and calls, emails and posts, I will try to comfort you, too, as best I can. We will grieve together in our own ways and time and places.

A couple of my memories of Dad involve long journeys away from home. I remember him driving me, as a teen, to a summer-long, traveling music program beginning in Decorah, Iowa. I was nervous. I didn’t know anyone where I was going and didn’t know how things would go. I also remember a few years later Dad driving me to my college tour and interview in St. Louis. Again, I was nervous, unsure, and knew no one.

I haven’t thought of these drives much over the years. They seemed unremarkable. I took Dad’s chauffeuring for granted. Now I’m considering a sort of “fatherly grace” in them. Something simple and warm in my reliable father taking me where I sought to go. We didn’t talk much on these long drives. He seemed to understand my ambition, trepidation, and potential, and I knew I could rely on him.

These trips were just the beginning of my life moving farther from home. It was easier to journey a little farther when I knew I had a safe haven in my family and father. If I faltered or failed, I could always return, whether for short reprieves or for good. My Dad would be pleased with either equally. Happy to host or to hold.

When we speak about God we commonly use father language. Many of the fatherly qualities we use to try to describe God’s nature are qualities of my father. When I needed guidance, he was there to guide, when I tried to find my own way, he let me search and learn in my own way. Yet, he was always present as a quiet and constant source of love … and mercy.

My father was merciful. His nature was to easily forgive and offer compassion. He gave his love effortlessly and without condition.

Jesus told the Parable of the Prodigal Son as a way to describe God’s boundless love and mercy. As he returns, the wayward and destitute son plans to beg if he can be merely one of his father’s servants. The scripture says, “He arose and came to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him, and was moved with compassion, and ran towards him, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.”

I know this profound love and mercy. I received it from my father. There was a time in my life’s journey when I questioned whether I would be fully received by him. In a sense, I was the prodigal son, and I tested my father’s love. I know how deep and true and good my father’s love and mercy were because he embraced me when I wasn’t sure he would.

I want my sons to know this kind of fatherly love. I want my sons to experience my love so commonly and surely that it’s as natural as the air they breathe. I don’t mind if they take it for granted. Too often and too much, I took my Dad’s love for granted, and in some way, isn’t that the most wonderful thing? To know you’re loved without having to seek or earn or even question it?

And should my sons ever test or question my love, should they wander away and journey home humbled, I pray that I am moved with compassion and run to them, embrace them, and kiss them. I pray that I am able to give them the boundless love and mercy that my father gave to me.

I remember another journey when I was nervous and unsure. This time Dad drove himself and Mom to me in Oshkosh. Somewhat unexpectedly, an infant boy had been placed with Paul and me in foster care. I called my mother and asked her and Dad if they could come and help. Mom asked when would we like them to come. I said, “Now.” They made the ten hour journey the next day.

The first morning when we were all together, us two new dads were anxious and awkward in caring for our first son Dustin. Mom offered much appreciated help. As we were busy arranging diapers, bottles, clothes and other paraphernalia, Dad casually sat Dustin on the table in front of him, and he wrapped his big arms around his grandson to prop him up. Then, the two of them looked in each other’s eyes and smiled and cooed and giggled at one another.

Again, “fatherly grace.” Simple, warm, effortless, steady and unearned. My family lived every day wrapped in my Dad’s boundless love. I kept returning to it and each time I was embraced.