Clyde Douglas Parks Sr.

Today, we gather to remember Clyde, a husband, a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, a friend, and a man whose life touched so many of us.

Clyde was 72 when he passed. He leaves behind his beloved wife, five children, fourteen grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. What a beautiful legacy of life, family, and love.

Clyde was a quiet and reflective man. He was not someone who needed to fill a room with words. He had a way of observing, listening, and taking things in. But beneath that quiet nature was a heart that loved deeply. Those of us who knew him understood that his love was not always expressed in big declarations. It was expressed through what he did, through his loyalty, through his willingness to help, and through the way he showed up for his family. He would do anything for the people he loved.

And he had a wonderful, dry sense of humor. Sometimes you had to listen carefully, and sometimes you had to wait a moment before realizing just how funny he was. That was Clyde. He had his own way of making us smile.

Clyde loved to travel. He loved fishing, gambling, and spending time with the people close to him. We shared road trips together, and one of those adventures took us all the way to Vancouver. We had such a wonderful time, including the ferry ride. Sometimes the most meaningful memories are not about where we go, but about the people beside us and the time we get to share.

I also remember our trips to the casino. Clyde would win, and I would lose. Somehow, I always managed to take some of his winnings, and he never seemed to mind. We would take his money and go out to eat. It was one of those little rituals that became a memory I will always carry with me. There was laughter, companionship, and the simple happiness of being together.

Clyde was also an extraordinary handyman. He had a gift for fixing things and making things work. But perhaps his greatest gift was passing that knowledge on to his children. He loved taking them along with him, teaching them how to repair things around the house, work on cars, understand pipes, build things, and solve problems. He taught them with his hands, his patience, and his experience. He gave them something that will stay with them for the rest of their lives: the confidence to look at something broken and believe they could fix it.

That is a special kind of inheritance. Not something you put in a will, but something you carry in your hands and in your heart. Every time his children repair something, build something, or figure out how to make something work, a little piece of Clyde is there.

Clyde was also a Vietnam-era Navy veteran. His service came with a price that he carried for many years. The exposure to Agent Orange caused tremendous suffering and slowly took a terrible toll on his body. He also lived with the lasting effects of PTSD. He found comfort in video games, something that may have seemed unusual to some, but for Clyde, they offered a familiar world, focus, and a way to navigate some of the difficult memories and experiences he carried from his military service.

His body endured so much, but his spirit kept fighting. For years, he faced one health challenge after another. There were battles that most people could never fully understand. And yet, he continued. He kept going. His strength was not always loud or visible.

Sometimes strength is simply getting up and facing another day. Sometimes courage is found in the quiet determination to keep living, loving, and being present for the people who matter.

There is something profoundly moving about a life like Clyde's. We often think of strength as something we can see. But real strength can be quiet. It can live in a man who does not complain much, who carries his burdens privately, who continues to love his family, and who finds ways to enjoy the small pleasures of life despite everything he has endured.

And perhaps this is what we should remember most: Clyde was so much more than the illnesses he battled or the difficult experiences he carried. He was a man who loved his family. A man who taught, who repaired, who traveled, who fished, who laughed, who played, and who created memories with the people he loved.

Clyde's memory will live in his wife's heart, in the lives of his five children, in the laughter of his fourteen grandchildren, and in the life of his great-grandchild. It will live in the skills he passed down, the stories that will be told, the family traditions that will continue, and the memories of all those road trips, fishing days, casino adventures, and ordinary moments that now become extraordinary because they were shared with him.

We cannot measure a life only by the number of years someone lived. We measure it by the love they gave, the lives they touched, the lessons they left behind, and the memories that remain when they are no longer physically beside us.

Clyde, thank you for your friendship, your humor, your generosity, your quiet strength, and all the memories we were fortunate enough to share.

May you finally be at peace. May your body be free of pain. And may the love you gave continue to surround your family, guiding them and reminding them that a part of you will always be with them.

Your life was a gift. Your love was your legacy. And your memory will remain a blessing.

May you rest in peace, Clyde.

A Committal Service with Military Honors will be held at Fort Logan National Cemetery, 3698 S Sheridan Blvd, Denver, CO 80236, US, on November 9, 2026, from 1:30 pm to 2:00 pm.