On the 3rd...My hero finally fell after fighting the good fight. My heart was and still is broken and my soul continues to weep...but I try to take solace in knowing he is no longer living in daily pain. Deciding to give a speech at his wake was without a doubt the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. There is so much more that I could have said and so much more I wished I'd included but I know this speech would have made my father proud. Unfortunately...a few months ago there was another death in my family...and as such...there were a great many relatives who live far away that were not able to make the long journey back to my hometown again for yet another funeral for the cost was too great so soon after such a major trip. I begrudge them nothing and hold no ill will toward them. I know they were all with us in spirit. It is in that spirit that I write my speech here verbatim...in the hopes that they have an opportunity to read it and I will be able to share the message my father would have wanted me to spread. This is for you dad...my speech...delivered on Wednesday June 5th, 2013:
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
- Psalms 34:18 -
Pete Olivarez - Big O as some of you know him - was my dad...and you better believe I'm proud of it!
To try and encapsulate my father's life in the time I have before you would be a disservice to him. There is no way I could ever fully express in words what my father means to me. Yet, there are words that will always remind me of my dad. Words like strong...courage...honor...joker...storyteller...terco (that means stubborn)...smooth...dancer...teacher...friend...and of course the list continues on and on but there is one more I want to share with you...my personal favorite...Hero. My dad is, and always will be, my hero.
My father was, without a doubt, the single greatest man I have ever known. I won't lie to you. In a sense...I feel that we've been robbed. I had him for 33 years...my sister had him for 36 years...my mother had him for nearly 41 years...and my grandmother had him for 59 years...when I say it like that it sounds like a long time...but, to me, it wasn't long enough. I feel like my dad deserved an overabundance of life and was instead shortchanged. Over the past several days I have struggled immensely with that feeling...as I'm sure a lot of you have. But we are selfish, fallible people...and all too often we do not see beyond our own grief during times like this. I realized that even if he had lived to be 89 years old, I would still feel like it was too soon when he left. But an amazing epiphany occurred to me when I was roaming the halls of the hospital during his last few days...You can't measure a man's life in years...you measure it in where he chooses to devote his time and love. You measure it in his leaps of faith. Time and love are the two most precious gifts that anyone could ever give to anyone else because once they've been given...they cannot be reclaimed. Leaps of faith, more often than not, define a man's character...for those are the choices that are made based solely on the knowledge that with a little divine intervention...your path will remain straight.
My dad believed in choices. Throughout his life, one of the most important lessons he ever bestowed upon me and my sister is "You are who you choose to be." You can blame worldly forces for your condition in life...but that only goes so far. At some point, personal responsibility becomes a factor in that equation. There has to be a time when you accept the things you cannot change and you have to move forward. That is a lesson I will cherish to the end of my days...and it's one that I wanted to share with you all...so that you know during your darkest hours and your most private moments...when the weight of the world has crushed your spirits and you feel like you just can't take it...know...that you have a choice...you can either succumb or you can fight. My dad fought. He fought for a better life for himself. He fought for a better life for his wife and children. And he fought for his life against cancer so that he could get to know his grandchildren. He fought with every last ounce of his being. And he fought the good fight...until his body could no longer take it. Never take your health for granted. Remember...that our time is borrowed. None of us will live forever. The time we are blessed with is a gift and it's not the number of years of living that's important, but living those years rightly.
I know my father didn't live every waking second rightly...that would have been impossible. As I mentioned before...we are all imperfect and my father was no exception. But whatever my dad's sins may have been, he's already paid for them...100 times over...and 100 times again. To me, he suffered disproportionately to his faults. But he handled it with more grace, courage, and strength than I think most men could ever muster...and during that time, I think he showed us the best that the dynamic human spirit has to offer. He deserves a king's welcome in heaven everlasting. And this is not Goodbye...this is "see you later"...because we will see each other again...and we will laugh, and we will run, and we will dance...
I love you, Dad.
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