Verlyn J. Leiker

The three of us can hear it in the back of our minds, I’m sure. I know I do. The slow and steady shuffle of my dad’s feet across the hardwood floor. His making his way to the fridge, or back to his desk, or off to bed to rest his weary body. But he no longer has to suffer the tiny painful steps he has had to take for so many years. He is somewhere else. Wherever you believe people go when they leave us. He is somewhere that he is again able to take long strides. No cane. No walker. Able to kneel down and get his hands in the soil again. Able to water his plants and flowers, watching them turn green and bloom. Able to polish a spotless shine on his car and then stand tall in the sunshine with cold lemonade and admire what he’d done. Able to run with his old friend who has been patiently awaiting his company. Able to pour a glass of bourbon and sink into a comfortable chair at the end of the day, free from the worries which would have troubled him when he did the same in this life.

Those of us that are left behind all will undoubtedly miss different things about Verlyn Leiker. He had two brothers and two sisters, which he loved dearly. Alan, Steve, Nila, and Kay I’m certain will miss their long conversations over the phone. His detailed updates about the goings on of all of their children and grandchildren. Reminiscing about the past and constantly planning some future event that we would all reunite for, which seemingly always ends up being too few and far between.

His first son Jason, I imagine will miss his counsel, his advice. Even when it wasn’t needed, but only a reason to keep him close. And, to reassure him that he had already learned the right thing to do long ago. Jason’s two sons, Max and Vitaly, will surely tell their kids someday of going to see their grandpa. Sitting at his kitchen counter and having lunch. Playing with his collection of toy cars which was continually updated purely for their benefit. They didn’t have him for long, but they gained a grandfather that loved them more than anything and that will stay with them forever.

I will miss the very small things. The way he raised his eyebrows and smiled when he first greeted you. As if every time he saw you it had been too long from the time before. The warm hello. The unwarranted yet completely genuine compliment which made you feel special when you weren’t so confident. And the gentle squeeze of his hand when he left, which somehow made you know things would be ok until you saw him again. Finally, on the Wednesday before his passing, I was reminded by the newest part of our family, Lola, of the simplest of things that will be missed. His soft hugs and the sweet smell of cigar smoke. Both will linger around us and keep us warm until we meet again.

My mom, Janet, will miss him the most. They were together in life for 53 years. Partners in crime through good and bad. Taking each other at their most wonderful and at their absolute worst. They are a shining example of what marriage is. What it should be anyway. She will miss his steadiness, I’m sure. His ability to make you feel that everything would be taken care of. That he was on it, even if he wasn’t. He would figure it out somehow. And the snoring. Oh, the snoring. The silence will be deafening. But she will hear it in her dreams and it will comfort her and let her know that he is right there every night. My dad gave my mom everything she needed and more and she will be reminded daily of how much he loved her by the life that he left her. It is everywhere. In their home. In their family. In their friends. He will surround her and stay with her until she sees him again.

The same is true for all of us that knew him well. The world will continue to see his wit, his humor, his thoughtfulness, his generosity, his wisdom, and his love through all of us. We will desperately miss you Dad. But we will be eternally comforted by what you have given us. We love you.

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Curtis Leiker