Speech For My Dad

I wrote recently that my Dad passed away.

After I planned to go to Virgina for his memorial, I was asked to speak at his memorial.

I can't begin to express how difficult it was. I broke down several times during the speech... but SOOOOO many people told me afterwards that I did great, I made them cry, made them laugh, and that I touched their hearts with my words. Several also said it brought them hope to reunite, or reminded them of their love for a loved one. Others even said they wish they had the strength to do what I did today. I think I made my Dad proud.

It's evident he touched many lives. A lot of his friends expressed how much he meant to them and how he impacted their lives. Makes ME proud.

Here is a pic of his wife, Henna, and I:

There were not many smiles that weekend, but I was able to still capture our bond.  We both adore one another so much.  We will both miss my Dad BEYOND WORDS.

Here is the speech, and I spoke very slow and deliberate, even though tears:  


Hello, 

My name is Melinda Bailey.   

But I am honored to tell you today that I was born Melinda Duncan. 

I am Rudy Duncan's daughter.

I can't begin to tell you how difficult it is for me to stand up here, as I have now buried my step Dad, my Mom, and now the one person I could always call….. my Dad.

I was born in Okinawa Japan.  The picture you see with the little girl on the shoulders of the young man in your program (I’ll let you find it, it's cute) was taken in 1970, and I was a mere 3 months old on my Dad’s shoulders.  I recently put that photo on Facebook and as one of my friends said, “Who is holding who?”  :)

Being a Duncan as a child, I was made fun of.  I do not know if there are Dunkin’ Donuts restaurants around here, but kids thought I spelled my name like “Dunkin’ Donuts.”  I used to have to tell them my name was spelled “Duncan, D-U-N-C-A-N” not like ‘dunking donuts.’  They didn’t even realize Dunkin’ Donuts was short for Dunking Donuts.  So no, it’s not spelled the same at all.  I think they just wanted free donuts, now that I think about it.

Although I was Melinda Duncan, to my Dad I was “Pooter Poot.”  I will let that sink in. .. yes, he called me Pooter Poot.  He gave me that nickname at a very, very young age.

I can only guess that I created a lot of diaper changes for him?

He called me “Pooter Poot” when I was little, obviously, but I have to admit he would use the same term of endearment in letters… cards… and on the phone in my teens.  And 20s…. 30s…. and…. yes in to my 40s.  

I don't remember a lot from my childhood with my Dad however the two things I remember most are he taught me tie my shoes!  Thank goodness.  And one time he came home from being overseas and I heard his voice in the house and I came running and running and running down the hall towards him and he leaned down right as I reached him and he swept me up and off my feet…. as he has continually done for the next 40 years.

As you all know already, he was a very genuine, funny, loving, amazing, man… father… husband…. friend…. and brother.  Anyone who he crossed paths with, they are the true lucky ones in life.  And blessed.

My Dad and I hadn’t seen each other in person at one point for 20 years, but thankfully we kept in touch through letters and phone calls.   

And when he and Henna came to visit me in Dallas around 2005, they were waiting at the Dallas Airport for me to pick them up.  And they waited.  And waited.  When I finally did show up to the terminal – they were the last people at the turn style.  Everyone else had picked up their bags and left and only my Dad and Henna were there sitting, waiting to be picked up.  It wasn't that I was late or got lost.  What happened was…. I was sitting in my car crying!  I was able to get out of the car 3 times, but I could never quite make it across the street without bawling.  I would have to run back to my car to try and compose myself.  

When I finally did walk in, Henna was trying to grab the camera to take pictures of my Dad and I “reuniting.”  She was shaking, I was shaking, we were all crying.  

 (pics from the airport that day)

My husband (at the time) loved to golf and as you all know, so did my Dad.  So my Dad was very excited he was able to bring his golf clubs to Texas and shoot a round.  While they golfed, Henna and I were able to bond.  And I have to say that in that one weekend, Henna created the confident woman you see standing in front of you today.  She has that much of an effect on people and I know that's one of the many… many… reasons why my Dad loved her very much.

That trip was the first time I met Henna, the love of his life.  Even though he talked about her all the time, I saw for myself just how special she was.
 
She is an inspiration to everyone she meets and she puts others before herself.  Prefect example: When I called her to talk about my Dad's passing (which obviously was very tough on both of us), she mostly talked about how much he loved me.  I'm still shocked as I stand in front of you all, that she talked about his love for ME, when she in fact, lost the love of her life. 
 
I had to interrupted her and tell her my Dad told me how much she meant to him; he told me all the time. I think we can all agree there's no Rudy without Henna. The two go hand in hand. And my Dad told me on many occasions that she pretty much saved him, and helped him become a strong, able, Christian man. He told me a strong woman was needed to be by his side in order for him to become a good man.  And Henna was the ONLY woman who was strong enough.

Facebook is an interesting piece of technology.  My Dad had a Facebook account (luckily) and he told me in an email in December, “I’m REALLY glad that I have Facebook.  I can see you every day.”  I had no idea he was keeping up with me (or was it stalking?) but it sure was sweet when he would comment on a post or picture, because it meant the world to me to see he was keeping up with me.

I looked up one of his letters before coming here to VA this weekend.  He wrote this particular letter back in 1993.  He said at one point in it, “I used to pick you up from day care on my motorcycle and you were so proud.  You had your own helmet and were the envy of all the other children in the school.”

I have to tell you, I was proud every single day of my life, that he was my Dad.

I’m going to miss my Dad’s voice and his advice.  He was THE one person I could call when I needed help and he would just magically offer sincere and understanding advice.  As I reflect back, I realize now I didn’t call him FOR advice, just to tell him what I was going through, what was going on, and then he would offer words of encouragement and sweet knowledge every single time.  
 
I will miss him dearly.  

I was very lucky that my birthday was just earlier this month in February. My Dad called me on February 6th and as soon as I answered the phone, I heard him singing happy birthday to me. However the 6th is not my birthday.  I interrupted him in the middle of his singing, and told him, “Dad, Dad it's not my birthday. “  He started laughing and he asked so sweetly and innocently, “did I mess it up again?”   We both laughed and we both still wondered why he would always think my birthday was the 6^th.  He did this for years, BTW; he always thought it was the 6th.

Three days later, on February 9^th, my Dad called me again. He was singing me happy birthday and I couldn't help but smile because he had called me back (on the correct day). We chatted on both calls, and like he always did, he gave me great advice on some things I'm going through. 

So I was very lucky that I was born in February, back in 1970, back in Okinawa Japan, so I could hear my dad's voice twice this month before his passing.

The way my dad told me “I love you” was so sincere and genuine.  I swear the way he said it would make Angles flutter and God smile with delight.

The last thing my Dad said to me on that second call, was, "I love you very much, Pooter Poot." 

I love, you too, Dad.