A Strong North Wind

On December 29, 2016, we held a celebration of life to honor Anthony. It was a cold, gray, blustery day with a fierce wind coming from the north.  It was completely the opposite of the sunny, unusually warm day just over a week earlier when he died.  The weather on the day we celebrated him was completely by his design as I will explain later in this post.  

I walked into the chapel where I had stood with the kids a few days before to say our goodbyes to Anthony as he lie in a casket.  This time I walked into a chapel filled with flower arrangements and plants too numerous to count, many of the animal mounts that normally filled our basement and poster sized photos of Anthony that all flocked the simple wooden box that now contained his ashes.  No casket needed this time.  

I could not believe the outpouring of support that the kids and I received on that day.  There was a solid line of people starting 15 minutes before the visitation began and lasting through its two-hour duration, with many people never getting the chance to speak to us directly.  I watched that line snake down the side of the chapel and out to the foyer.  I was later told that many people waited patiently for a long time outside in the cold to be able to pay their respects to us.  I am not sure how many people came or if they all signed the guest book. Some of my friends estimated close to 700 people attended that day. They came from all over the country and included family, friends, clients, co-workers, former neighbors, classmates, teachers, you name it.  It was a mix of both familiar faces and faces we had never seen before.  Every seat was taken in the chapel and every additional square inch was filled with people standing.  The overflow space in the basement was filled, too, where attendees watched the service as it happened. Though I could not see them very clearly, I cannot express how moving it was to see the entire Rock Bridge football team show up in their jerseys to honor Ben. The attendance that day speaks to the fine person Anthony was, the impact he made on many lives and in the hunting industry, and the legacy he leaves behind.

Many of Anthony's colleagues came for the service, including his boss from Minnesota.  He spoke about how well-respected Anthony was in the field and what a blow his loss was to both his business and the industry overall.  He and representatives from Bear Archery, the primary line sold by Hudalla Associates, also posthumously presented an award to Anthony for Bear sales representative of the year.  The decision had been made to give Anthony the award the day before he died and he had not yet been told.  He would have been thrilled to receive the coveted award, and I have no doubt he was watching and smiling from above.  

Many of Anthony's friends and some of our family members wrote their own memories which were shared at the service.  And, unbelievably to me, Ben and Kate left my side in the audience, joined hands and walked up to the stage where they stood in front of the large crowd and shared their own memories and funny stories about their dad.  I was in awe and have never been more proud of them than in those few minutes.  I kept thinking about how strength, both inherited and learned, was the primary gift he instilled in them.  And what a gift it is.

Some of Anthony's close friends created a slideshow with pictures of him from childhood up to the present.  Music was an important part of the service.  We carefully selected the songs played during the visitation to represent Anthony's musical tastes, though we did not play the heavy metal that he loved the most. My good friend Nollie, a fantastic tenor, and his two sons sang a version of Hallelujah that was jaw-dropping and an amazing tribute to Anthony's life.  

The last song played at the service as we walked out was unorthodox but so Anthony.  He loved music and had seen dozens of concerts with his friends.  Iron Maiden was one of his favorite bands and he saw them about 10 times.  At the end of every concert as the crowd filtered out, thousands of fans would whistle along with the song "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" by Monty Python's Eric Idle.  One time when Anthony was snow goose hunting with our friend Aaron and the hunting was not so great, Anthony said he wished they had that song to play over the snow goose caller so the hunters they were competing with could hear it.  Aaron, being a DJ who is always prepared, had the song on his phone and gave it to Anthony to broadcast it at full blast across the field through the multi-speaker caller.  Aaron said that he never saw Anthony smile bigger or longer in his life.  So of course we asked attendees to whistle along with the song as they left, to reflect on Anthony's life and to know that he would love being sent off in this way.   

Below is the eulogy that I wrote for that day.  

Anthony and I met in March of 1992 when I was 20 and he was 21.  Instantly I knew that he was special.  He had a smile that lit up a room, a combination of happy-go-lucky and mischief.  We became inseparable very quickly.  Though we were both smitten, we dated a full five years before getting married.  On June 14, 1997, we got married at Linn Memorial Methodist Church on the Central Methodist University campus in Fayette, my hometown.  

Anthony was a devoted husband and he loved me deeply.  He showed that love most often by teasing me mercilessly and by playing pranks on me.  Among his favorites - leaving rubber snakes for me to find or chasing me with them, putting bubble wrap under my car tires to scare me when I backed out of the garage and his favorite, blowing a duck call to make me jump while I was in the shower.  He blew that duck call for the last time on the morning he died.  Though we were complete opposites in just about every way, we were very happy together and we shared matching philosophies on the things that mattered. 

Ben came along in February of 1999.  Anthony was so proud to have a son.  I remember vividly that huge smile on his face when Ben was born.  Kate followed in March of 2004.  From the first moment he saw her, she had his heart.  Ben and Kate could not have asked for a more devoted father.  Though he traveled frequently with work, he always made it a point to stay connected.  He was in the stands or bleachers for every football and basketball game, on the sidelines as an assistant soccer coach for several years, and in the audience at every concert, recital and performance.  Anthony was not particularly close to his father, who also died too young.  But that compelled him to ensure a close relationship with his own children, to be the father he didn't have growing up.  He succeeded.  He could not have been a better role model to our kids.

Anthony loved the outdoors.  We went from season to season in our house - deer, duck, snow goose, turkey, etc. I always dreaded deer season and told Anthony that was when he was the least fun to live with.  It was because he was chasing the trophy.  Not just a deer but an exceptional deer.  That meant many days up waking up well before dawn and sitting in a tree stand with no promise of a harvest.  Anthony might arrive home each day without the trophy deer but he enjoyed his experience, of watching the sun come up and the world waking up, the stillness of the woods. Then there were the great days when he did harvest a big deer.   The smile on his face, the story he had to tell, the pride in his voice.  When duck and snow goose season arrived, he was practically giddy.  He took such great pride in duck hunting with his black Labrador retrievers, first Bailey and then Scout.  Anthony always said Scout was the best retriever he had ever seen and she worshiped the ground he walked on.  She continues to watch and wait for him to come home.  

Anthony was the hardest working person I knew, only to be rivaled by my father. His entire career was spent in the sporting goods industry. He covered a large territory for many years working with accounts in Missouri, Kansas, Iowa, Nebraska and Southern Illinois.  Though he didn't like to be away from us for long periods of time, he truly loved his job as a manufacturer's representative with Hudalla Associates.  It was more than a job or a paycheck for him.  He felt incredibly lucky to turn his hobby and passion for the outdoors into a career.  Anthony gave his customers the royal treatment, with many of them becoming close friends over the years.  He would always tell them he was available 24/7 and he meant it. He took such great pride in his work and that's why he was so successful.  He was born to do it.

Anthony had a laugh that was epic. When he thought something was really funny, everyone around him knew it.  His laugh was utterly contagious.  He loved to laugh and he was incredibly funny.  Around people he didn't know well, he might come across as quiet.  But to his friends and family he showed his huge personality.  He was really witty and was known for inserting a hilarious, usually naughty, comment when you least expected it.  His timing was always impeccable and he never disappointed.  

Anthony was the strongest person I have ever met.  Physically he could out bench press most men and he was proud of that.  Emotionally he was as stable as they come.  He lost his entire family, both parents and his two older brothers, all before he turned 40.  But he didn't let that define him. He used that loss to make him a better person, a better husband, a better father and a better friend.  

Anthony was always early.  Being on time meant 15 minutes before an appointment.  30 minutes before was even better.  He was always on the go, always had a million projects at once.

Anthony was a fierce friend.  He chose his close friends very carefully and they were a select group.  To him, those friends were family.  He would drop what he was doing, no matter the time, if a friend needed him.  And they would do the same for him.  Several of them have pledged to continue to be there for the kids and me and they have upheld that promise.  

      

Anthony loved to help people.  When we had any measurable snow, he got on his four-wheeler and plowed our driveway, then he did the same for the neighbors.  Several years ago we had a snowstorm that shut Columbia down for days.  He stayed inside for as long as he could stand it, then got outside to plow our driveway and the neighbors drives as he always did.  A snowplow had not yet come through our subdivision, so he plowed the street.  Then he realized that he needed gas and he plowed his way to the nearest gas station, more than a mile away.  He was the only customer there and when he went in to pay, the clerk asked if he would be willing to plow the driveway.  He was offered a candy bar and a soda as payment.  Of course he said he would do it and he did, not because of what he was offered but because he saw an opportunity to help. But he did take the candy bar. 

Anthony lived life to the fullest.  He cherished every day he had on this Earth.  His loss is a terrible tragedy but he died the way he would have wanted to - quickly, with little pain and in his beloved outdoors.  He would not want anyone to cry or mourn him for too long.  Instead he would want us to move on with our lives and think of him fondly from time to time.  It is fitting that he passed away on the first day of winter.  He always told me he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes scattered into a cold north wind so that when I felt that north wind on the back of my neck I would think of him.  I hope everyone who loved him will join me in thinking of him when that cold north wind blows. 

One of my favorite movies is Four Weddings and a Funeral and who knows how many times I have seen it?  I always liked a poem from the movie and listened carefully to the words each time I heard them.  Of course I did not realize that they would later represent my thoughts during my own time of loss.  We did not include this poem as part of the service but it speaks to how I felt during that worst period in my life and how I imagine others who have suffered a loss must feel, as well.  

The north wind is blowing as I write these words.  In fact, the wind has been blowing from the north for days in brutal, record cold temperatures both here and across the country. And the sun just came out after being missing for days. Coincidence?  Maybe.  Or, maybe not.  

  

Funeral Blues by WH Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let airplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead.’
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.