Harvey Mackey

Each of you here had your own unique relationship with our Dad, each of you have your own special memories and your own words to describe this man. I don’t presume to know the man that you knew. While there are countless of memories that we have of this man, and hopefully some of you will have the chance to tell them, at this time, I can only give you but a snapshot. I do hope that, in this eulogy you will recognize some part of the man that we all knew, as a father, grandfather and friend the man who will never be gone from our hearts until all of us here have passed on.

This story begins in April of 1972, God gave my two older sisters and I the second greatest gift of our lives, the first being our mother. The second, He gifted us with a man we could call father.

We can still vividly remember that day. After what seemed to me like a week’s journey from a small village in rural Mexico to the big city of Los Angeles we arrived at our new home. It was a Sunday afternoon, as we drove up on the driveway, outside stood a tall dark man watering the grass, upon seeing us he walked over and greeted us with a sincere and warm smile.

Our mother, who could barely speak English, introduced him to us as deddy, maybe because she couldn’t pronounced daddy. Regardless, the name stuck, but he always knew what we meant. It was the first English word Mayela, Emelda and I had learned and it was the beginning of the rest of our lives.

Two years before, our mother, in order to give us a better life, had independently immigrated to America to work. It was then that she met and married this man, and gave birth to their first born son, Cipriano. Because of his love and commitment to our mother; he, without knowing us, took on the responsibility and formally adopted us. It takes a special man to accept somebody else's children and take up to the duty that another man left behind. And so, this is how we made our way to America.

A few years afterwards, I would ask my mother how was it that she met and married our dad when she could barely speak English. She said that for the early part of their marriage they communicated through signs and gestures until she gradually learned to speak English. I also asked her why she had married a man that was not Mexican, she replied “because I saw kindness in his eyes”.

One day, during my rebellious teens, I also interrogated him with the same question. With a bold attitude, I confronted him asking “why did you marry my mom anyway?” It was a moment of truth I have never forgotten. My mother herself stopped doing what she was doing, cleaning the refrigerator or folding clothes, I don’t exactly remember, but she attentively stopped to listen to his answer. I thought I had annoyed him, and expected him to send me off by telling me none of your business, but after a minute of silence he patiently and humbly responded “because I saw a woman who needed help”. Later on I would realize that every couple has their own love story and that this had been theirs. Although at the time I didn’t quite grasp the significance of those words, deep down I felt their weight. It was when I matured that I realized the depths of those words and more than ever, deeply appreciated the man that God had gifted me for a father.

Through him, we had stability. A stability that gave a single mother and three little girls from a remote village in Mexico a future and a hope. A future and a hope that allowed us to be all that we could be, and to pursue our dreams. Through our mother’s determination and his generosity, we were able to achieve the American Dream. And, it has been this stability that has kept our family together. A stability that has extended onto their grandchildren and hopefully for many generations to come so that they too can have a future and a hope. Growing up, every weekends we would eat and pray around the dinner table and he would often say, a family that prays together stays together.

He was committed to being a father, maybe because he had had a family before that ended in divorce, and though he was not continually there for his oldest daughter, Deborah, I believe this loss encouraged him to become an even more loving and caring husband, father, and grandfather. He made sure to make quality time for the family. He bought a trailer home and on holidays and weekends we would take long road trips to visit relatives in Bakersfield, Arizona and Mexico. Or simply go camping.

Then at around age 50, nearly ten years before his retirement, he and our mother produced two more children, Daniel and Angelina. At a time when most middle age men look forward to retiring, he was raising a new set of children. By this time, he didn’t have quite have the same energy to keep up with them like he had with us. Although they didn’t benefit as much from the vacations we enjoyed; with them he was a little less rigid and more flexible. Nevertheless his energy to discipline didn’t wane. He raised them with the same discipline and principles that have guided them to a stable life.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 says 4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always endures.

Indeed our dad embodied these attributes. As a father, he was patient and kind. He patiently endured us through our rebellious years, never keeping records of our wrongs, always delighting in our accomplishments whether we bought a used car, got a new job or brought home a new grandchild. He felt proud. And each and every time we left his presences he always always give us his blessings. He’d say, “God bless you, and be good”.

As a father, he gave selflessly, putting his family before himself never defaulting on his commitment to our mother and to us, even after our mother passed on he continued with his commitment. Never did we go hungry, or cold, or roofless. He made sure his obligation to the family were met before anything else. As a father he gave his very best, gave us all he had, he didn’t withhold anything good from us, and even as he go on rest he continues to be a blessing.

For us who knew him we can all agree that he was independent, generous, kind, respectful, stubborn, frugal, old school, and a man of all trades he was a mechanic, and a carpenter in his own right.

He was a hard worker, and worked many jobs before settling as a truck driver.

Although he was a serious and disciplined man, he had a warm sense of humor, and always looked forward to family gatherings and celebrations when he could drink a cold beer and have a good laugh. He loved his beer, growing up I remember he use to have a constant keg supply of Coors light, later when his Mexican son’s in laws joined our family he Mexicanized to drinking Tecate. He much-loved hanging out with the boys Albert, Bruce, and Wilmer to name a few. He enjoyed BBQ-ing on holidays and weekends, playing cards and dominos and being surrounded by friends and family. Well, he married into the right family because Latinos always have a reason to celebrate. You can rest assure that he will be with us in spirit at the reception.

His independent nature never left him. In his later years, after he was done raising children, it was difficult to keep up with him. He’d rise early in the morning, shower, shave, and religiously eat a bowl of oatmeal before leaving the house only to return in time for dinner. He enjoyed ripen and running the streets, a phrase he would use to blame us for doing the exact same thing. We’d simply replied, “Well guess where we got it from”. Even after he was wheelchair bond, it didn’t take him long to adapt to his new situation before he was ripen and rolling on his electric schooter. You could find him anywhere from the corner liquor store, the shopping center at the 99 cent store or on Tuesday buying Popeye’s chicken 2 for 1 special.

He was young at heart and so we will always remember him as being pretty good for a young man.