My father was everything that a father could be, and I believe he was more than that too. In my eyes as a child he was a giant that could walk faster than the wind, and eat whole cookies in a single bite. My eyes were filled by his deeds; he was my hero then.
As I grew older, I came to see my dad as a rock, both as a secure resting place in the storms that shook my life, and as an immovable and authoritarian presence that withstood the pressure of raising 10 children. He was still my hero, but I was growing into adulthood, and I gained a healthy respect for his words.
In the last few years, I have found myself drawing closer to Dad as a person, almost an equal, and considering him less as a hero bigger than life. We now could talk, sharing lofty ideas, debating age old beliefs, dreaming, wishing, and laughing. I always knew he had a huge appetite for living, but now I could discover what that appetite had allowed him to taste. Since he was slowly losing his ability to get out and sample life, he drew upon us, his children, to keep his flame burning bright. His grandchildren kept him young, and his children sustained his dreams. We had become giants in the midst of a giant, and we were happy to share our life with him.
Now I find myself, by all accounts, to be an adult fully in charge of my life and prepared for all that life can throw at me. Yet I discover that I have retained that childhood image of my father, the image where he strides into my life and saves the day, eating food with a single bite, and being that foundation of warmth and strength where I can rest my head and be comforted.
In the final assessment, which can only be performed by God and guessed at by man, I believe my father will come out shining with the glory of a fight well fought and a job well done. He challenged us constantly to be more than just ordinary, and he expected us to be proud and stand tall. He never failed to make an impression on those he met. He taught me so much, and there is so much more that I wished to learn from him. There is one thing though, that I learned from Dad, that I gleaned from all the time with him; and although he never said it directly, he always implied it: Make a difference. Strive to be more than you are, and never be afraid to admit a mistake.
In this wisdom I can find strength to live as a giant would live, to be a hero when my chance comes. Dad, we'll miss you, and we'll never forget you. Be at peace with God, and we pray that your spirit may guide us always.
The funeral for Paul Allen Pfarr, my father, was performed on January 25th, 1989. He will be laid to rest in the family plot in Seymor, Wisconsin.