Kyle's memorial service.
I have to say I am so proud of each of my children.
They all wrote their OWN talks/tributes to their
father without ANY help from me (even the 11 year old).
They ALL did such a fabulous job.
Josh is my oldest, he is 21 and a wonderful human
being. Here is his tribute to his father.
-----------------------------
It’s hard to know where to begin but I think a story, or maybe a parable, involving the Subway is a good place. Many of you had the privilege of joining my dad on one of his Subway trips. For those that didn’t, or don’t know what it is, the Subway is a hike located in Kolob Canyon, a small section of Zion National Park in Southern Utah. Photographers and outdoor enthusiasts travel from around the country and world just to hike this nine mile stretch that winds its way through forest, slick-rock, slot canyons, swimming holes, and switchbacks. The Nielson family actually led a trip through the Subway years ago with the outdoor expert from a local news channel who did a feature on the hike and since then, it has grown massively in popularity, requiring a reservation months in advance. And if you ask anyone in the Nielson family who the Subway master was, they would without a doubt tell you it was Kyle. He helped countless people who were probably too old or maybe too young to make it through because he knew that the people he loved deserved a chance to witness the beauty. I had the chance to join my dad on this hike three times, once as a kid, once as a young teen, and once right after I graduated high school, with some of my best friends. One thing you need to know about the Subway is that if you’ve never hiked it, or don’t have someone with you who has, it can be difficult to navigate. You need a guide. And for so many, Kyle was that guide. Even on my latest trip, I remember leading the way, knowing the route better than most, but every so often forgetting the next step and waiting for my dad to catch up and point us in the right direction. He wasn’t always at the front, he let us explore and try to figure it out ourselves, but even when we couldn’t, we always knew he would be there to patiently guide us in the right direction. I took the whole group the wrong way down a hill and we ran into a dead-end, which in the Subway meant we came up to a sheer drop the was completely untraverseable. I called out my dad’s name, he shouted back and once again led us in the right direction. Not mad, not even a little annoyed. He was happy he was there to show us the way.
I think one of the single greatest things I learned from my father was subtly illustrated on hikes like this and gently throughout my life. He didn’t teach by barking commands or giving orders. He taught by doing. By doing things with you, on his hands and knees, in the dirt and snow, under the house or on the roof. He taught strength by being strong, not by telling you to be strong. And I think that something he was afraid of at times was that this method of teaching wasn’t working. But to teach by doing requires patience, a gift he had in abundance. So he continued through his life, doing instead of talking, hoping that the people he loved saw what he did, and took something from it. Not always receiving accolades, money, or recognition, he carried on; at times I’m sure, with frustration, like we all feel. I think, though, that in dying my dad was given the greatest gift of all back from all those he had served. He was reminded that the good he had done had made a real difference in the lives of so many. I watched him weep on his last days with us as guest after guest, and text after text came in expressing how much he meant to them. To all of you who said or sent kind words, he truly was touched. And I think the best explanation for it, along with his giant heart, was that it meant the world to him to see that all the amazing things he did, often without thanks, did not go unseen or forgotten. It was sort of a Big Fish moment, if you’ve seen the movie. To sum it up, at the end of the main character’s life, he is reminded by his son of all the good he had done and all the people’s lives he had touched and how through these monumental acts of goodness, he had become larger than life to the people that knew him. A big fish.
My dad believed the world is a good place. Unlike many, he didn’t blame the next generation for the problems of the world but rather, as a Scout and youth leader, chose to love them and teach them to love and serve others. I remember as a kid, worrying that my friends from church liked my dad more than they liked me, but now I see how amazing he was as a leader. Kind, patient, loving and accepting of all. Anyone who learned under him can second this. So to anyone who wants it, my advice to you, taken from the life of my father, is to love and respect everyone. Do your best to avoid the natural inclination to judge and instead choose to serve. Don’t be afraid to lead by example. Life is hard and we will make mistakes, but that’s okay. Forgive quickly if possible. In the words of Tolkien, “There is some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.” Nothing in this world is promised, life can come and go in an instant, but the love we shared and the people we reached out to can transcend death, as Kyle has shown us all. No matter where he is now, his love and his lessons live on through each of us. It’s not always easy, but he knew that the good in this world was worth fighting for, and so do I. Thank you.
No comments:
Post a Comment