Wade Ebert was an unusual man. Growing up with him for a father was somewhat unpredictable and unique but it gave a richness to my life nothing else could have. He had an almost mythical presence and a twinkle in his eye that drew you in and captured everyone that knew him.
Sometimes I was completely sure he was crazy – like the time he advertised in an Australian newspaper for a wife. I don’t know quite how, but he always managed to come out on top.
Sometimes he was the wisest man I knew – teaching me that love never divides, only multiplies and that to be a true and faithful friend is one of the most worthwhile things you can do with your life.
Occasionally I just wanted to wring his neck because he was absolutely impossible. Trust me when I say that nobody could piss you off more than Wade Ebert!
With everything said and done I would choose him for a Dad all over again. That laugh – deep and booming that rolled and flowed into your very core. The stories, true ones, made up ones, crazy ones but told with such spellbinding narration you wanted to hear them again and again.
He always told us that when he died we should cry for 10 minutes and then have one hell of a party. Well Dad, the party I can do, but loosing you left us with more tears than can be shed in 10 minutes.
Cancer is an evil thing and watching it take my father once piece at a time was unspeakably hard. Surprisingly, the one gift it gave me was time. This year I talked to my father in a way we had never talked before. We talked of the deep things and we shared our hearts and he came face to face with himself for the first time in my memory.
It seems weird, but some of my best memories of Dad are from the last seven months. One of the recurring themes in our conversations was regret. He spoke with me at length about his regrets as a father, his regrets as a husband and his regrets about God.
His last lesson to me was to examine my life shrewdly and invest deeply in the people I love and in knowing God as a friend. When he died his most heartfelt wish was to have 10 more years to do just that. I hope I have learned his last lesson well…
Dad’s journey to discovering God was beautiful, and so thoroughly “Wade” in every way. Sitting in his garage this summer, staring at his beloved hillside, God started talking to him. God told my father that he was accepted and that everything would be ok. My Dad carried a great deal of guilt and pain from the war and from years of hard living. To him in particular, these were beautiful, healing conversations. Dad hated religion but fell in love with God outside of all the traditional trappings. He loved that God had found him. To me it is clear that God was not in the least concerned with the imperfect life my father had lived. His only concern was to care for Dad’s heart and meet him where he was at.
I will never stop missing Dad, his laugh, his sense of humor, those wonderful big bear hugs with whiskers tickling my face. His giant presence can never be filled by anyone else. I can’t quite imagine not being able to tell him when Jack starts walking or the next time I find out I am pregnant. Mickie, I guess you will just have to be excited enough for the two of you!
It is not easy to let go of a man we all loved so much but we carry his legacy with us and tell his stories and do our best to make the world better like he did. Daddy, as much as I miss you, I know you are having the most wonderful adventure imaginable now. Your peace and rest is hard earned. Until I see you again, Papa Bear, Yol Bolson…
— Mirlandra Neuneker