DAD'S FUNERAL TALK – WILLIAM EVANS HUGHES

DAD'S FUNERAL TALK

– WILLIAM EVANS HUGHES - 3/15/1940 - 10/16/2006

By Wm, Calvin Hughes, Son, October 19, 2006

 

My name is Cal Hughes and I am the firstborn child of Bill and Jeriann Hughes.

 

Thank you for all those that been so giving and gracious to our family over the last few weeks and months, especially our mom.

 

Dad was a good man, a great father, an incredible husband and a loyal friend.

 

One of his sons-in-law, in one of the last moments of Dad's life, gave Dad a hug and whispered in Dad's ear that he was the greatest man he ever knew. I, along with my brothers and sisters and mother, and many, many others whole-heartedly concur.

 

On our drive up from Southern CA, my sister Shelley and I had several hours to talk and reflect on our childhood. A question that came to mind was this: In one word, how would you describe what was the most valuable thing I'd learned from my father and likewise, my mother. I contemplated on this question for some time and concluded that for my mother, that word is Love'. In everything that she does... and did while raising seven children had to do with Love. It was at the center of all her motivation and being. What a great example it has been and continues to be for our family. By the way, the second most valuable lesson described in one word from my mom is 'Cleanliness'. In fact, if our rooms weren't clean, often, we wondered about the love thing.

 

With my Dad, that word is 'Loyalty'. I don't know of a more loyal man. To his wife, his children, his neighbors, friends..., to employers..., to the church, to God. He was loyal to his word and his commitments. If he said he would do something, it was as good as done. He was known for working to get something done through sickness or weariness or ill weather. Loyalty, owning up to his word, was more important than inconvenience.

 

Dad was a worker in the truest sense. He hated to waste time. There was always some project that he couldn't wait to get to. Always something to get done. And whatever it was, he wanted to be completely involved. He didn't ask for much help but enjoyed the company if someone was working along his side. Often, that person was my mom. The things that they worked on together would create a long list of incredible accomplishments.

 

He taught us to take care of ourselves. From shining our own shoes, to washing our own cars, changing our own oil, doing our own tune ups, finishing our own basements, putting in our own yards. Not only did we all gain an incredible work ethic, but we also learned how to do things for ourselves, how to be more independent, and how to build long-lasting, deep-meaning relationships.

 

He designed and built the house that they live in. Outside of having the foundation poured, he was personally involved in almost every other part of the construction and landscaping.

 

I remember being up on the roof helping get the shingles nailed on. The backside of the house has about a 30-foot drop that looked like a hundred-foot drop from the roof. We were all anxious about getting those first few rows of shingles on and the rain gutter. But Dad had no fear about it. He'd hang on with one leg and one arm and swing the hammer with the other. Mom made him wear a rope tied around his waist on one end and the chimney on the other. I remember saying to him that there was no way that rope would ever hold if he went over the edge. He told me that the rope was much more meant for Mom's comfort than for his safety.

 

Yes, he worked hard. But he had a magical secret — Dad knew how to celebrate at the end of a large project. Whether it was studding in a room, putting in the electrical, plumbing, sheetrock mudding, painting, building a fence, or pouring cement, at the end of the project, he'd raise both his hands high in the air and have show peace signs with both hands, look up at the sky, and holler out a loud, "Uummmmmggaaaaaawwaaaaaa!!!" Translated, it means: 'This is a job well done... and I can be proud of it!' (or he would snap his fingers on both of his hand and hit the palm of one on top of the other cupped, like this...)

 

Whether it was some construction project or a math problem or working with their landscaping, the thing, outside of being with his family, which he got the most satisfaction and fulfillment out of, was pouring cement. He loved the permanency of concrete. Outside of being employed by a sand and gravel company, he probably holds the world record for the most cement poured by a single human being! He worked for Kennecott when they had that year/long pour for the large smoke stack'. For a long time, I thought that he was personally mixing all that cement! He designed and poured basketball courts, patios, driveways, walkways, steps, footings, foundations, retaining walls, and more. He seemed to have a certain amount of pride that came out of pouring a new piece of cement. It was a way for him to leave a permanent legacy on this planet.

 

But even greater than the legacy he's left with all the cement he's poured, is the legacy he's left because of the life he lived. It wasn't a long life, but it was significant in many, many ways. And there is a correlation between the cement he poured, and other aspects of his life.

 

·         Mixing and pouring cement the right way takes work, care and patience. Dad was the hardest worker I ever known. Dad was one of the most caring and patient people I've ever known.

·         Cement takes time to cure, and time to evolve into its final state, until then it's somewhat fragile. Dad understood that about life. People are fragile, and you have to work with them, give them time to cure, encourage them to become what they were meant to become - working alongside with them, until they evolve into their final state.

·         Mom was the finisher of the cement - making it 'pretty'. Dad knew that he could get more done, and sometimes the result would be even better, if he let others participate in his projects. He was secure enough with himself that he didn't need to be the final answer on everything - having everything done in 'his way'. And the finished piece was all the better for it.

·         It is important to get the cement level and true. Dad knew that the best way to make our lives level and true was to love the Lord and live the Gospel of Jesus Christ. He was faithful to the Lord in every way. He said on many occasions that outside of scripture, the book that he thought was the best book ever was Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage.

·         Dad taught us many lessons, and many of them were during those hours and hours of forming, mixing, pouring, and finishing cement.

 

Dad is the living embodiment of the quote, "It is in doing, not in dreaming, that dreams come true!"

 

I remember, when I was around 12 or 14 seeing those attractive beer ads on TV and wondering about how beer tasted. So, I asked Dad. Without a second thought he took the opportunity to teach me something that I'll never forget. He told me that beer tasted like coyote urine (piss). I never had the slightest desire to ever try alcohol. And I'll never forget that lesson. I've since passed it on to my children... and I'll bet that no one here will ever forget it either.

 

Our Dad was smart - probably the smartest person I've ever known. He knew something about almost everything. And usually, if he knew something about it, he was proficient in it. He had an uncanny memory and an incredible mind. He could read something, even extremely complicated things, and in a short period of time understand them deeply. Even to the point that he could teach others about them. He knew about physics, electronics, science, mathematics, philosophy, psychology, sociology, geology, chemistry, the solar system, technology, horticulture, construction, architecture, language, music, government, history, the creation, evolution, and much, much more. I never heard Dad say that he didn't know about something. Even so, I never saw, or heard of him flaunting or boasting about his intelligence. But more important than all his academic acumen, he knew about family, he knew about sacrifice, and he knew about loyalty. By day, he was an actual rocket scientist — one that would have made even Mr. Einstein proud. And yet, more significant than that, his view of himself was that he was a husband and father — one that the heavens could be proud of.

 

One of the many lessons he taught me came as we were on a men's trip to Lake Powell in Southern Utah. We were lying on our sleeping bags, out under the stars, when Dad wanted to teach me about the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics. I wasn't really catching why he was teaching me this Science lesson. He went on to make the correlation between the fall of man and the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics, and then to further explain how the Atonement of Jesus Christ corrected it all. Over the years as I've thought back on that lesson, how grateful I am for my father and for his desire to help his children learn the things of most importance.

 

Recently I heard a talk about the Atonement. The message was so simple. That all that is wrong in this life, all that is hurtful, unfair, unjust, painful, and wrong will be taken care of by the Atonement. The only thing that won't be covered by the Atonement is un-repented sin. Everything else... every other wrong will be made right through the Atonement. My Dad understood this principle and tried to live his life accordingly.

 

One final thought. We have a great family. We are not perfect, we've had our ups and downs and challenges just like any family — but we've certainly been blessed with more good than bad. We have shared a lot of tears over the last few months, but getting together this week, we have laughed a lot also. I think our Dad would be very pleased with that. He had a great sense of humor. Even in some of the most difficult trials, he could always find something to laugh about, and get the rest of us laughing — get our minds of the trials of the moment and remind us that trials are always temporary, but in the end, things would work out and happy days were just around the next corner. He was a great patriarch.

 

My sisters have been so great in helping take care of our Dad over these last months. Whatever the need, thinking about themselves always came as a second thought. The same is true of my brothers. What great examples they have been of ready at the drop of a hat to give priesthood blessings on several occasions. I, and I know my Dad, are so proud of them. And what an incredible stalwart, with unbelievable faithfulness has our mom been. An incredible matriarch, she has been so faithful in helping Dad through his trials with his health. My Mom and Dad were made for each other.

 

A little verse that with some minor changes, reminded me a lot of Dad —

 
Today I plant a seed,
Tomorrow it will be,
A flower or a weed,
Depends on the seed.
 
Today I pour some cement.
Tomorrow it will be,
A patio or a walkway,
But oh, I wish it were a freeway!
 

Thank you all for coming to honor a wonderful man. Many of you have traveled long distances — know that it is most appreciated. Thank you all for all that you've done and all the good that has become such an important part of our family.

 

Please continue your goodness by staying in touch with our mother. Your friendship and love are more and important than ever now.

 

By the way, I need to clear something up. I was his favorite child. I know that because I poured more concrete with him than the rest of my siblings..., and he told me first. And that is a fact!

 

There is a quote by Anne Frank that I love, and it perfectly encapsulates my Dad's life - it goes like this: "Isn't it wonderful that no one need wait a single moment to make the world a better place to live." He was driven to make the world better by his interaction with people, one person at a time.

 

Dad, we love you. You did a wonderful work with your life, we will all miss you. But oh, how we look forward to a grand and glorious reunion with you in the not so distant future. And we know that it will be so.

 

________________________________________

Wm. Calvin Hughes | Lake Elsinore, CA | October 18, 2006