Strawberries for Bill

Bill Dunbar was my father-in-law, my accountant but most of all my friend. He died on May 19, 2010, and he left behind a legacy of love and laughs. I am lucky with my in-laws – I hardly think of them as “in-laws.” They’re family. Bill always made certain to tell me that I was part of the family and that I belonged to them. Although his death has been hard for me, my heart aches for Linda, Matt, Mark, and Paige for having lost a husband and a father so early. They are a very close, loving family, and I know with support from each other and their friends, they will make it through this difficult time and one day be able to think of Bill without the sharp pain of loss and mainly feel the joy that he brought while he was here.

The evening before the funeral, there was a rosary service in Bill’s honor. Near the end of the service, people were invited to come to the front and talk about how Bill had touched their lives. We heard from the OSU student Bible study group – students who were unsure of their faith and future that received guidance and hugs from Bill. We heard from a Kairos volunteer who traveled to the prisons in Oklahoma with him to minister to the inmates – he was of a different Christian faith but they put aside differences and worked together. We heard from a fellow Deacon and his wife who were touched by Bill while preparing for the Deaconate together – and who received Sonic Drive-In food for lunch from him instead of the terrible cafeteria food. I know I’m leaving several out, but what I took from it was that Bill had many families where he shared his love. The main themes were his goodness, spirituality, big heart, and bear hugs. He gave the best hugs.

He was buried on Monday, May 24. From the day he died until the funeral, the community came out in full force to support the Dunbars by bringing food and hugs to the family. Each time they came, they brought strawberries. They’re in season, they’re delicious, and they’re an easy dessert. We were so grateful to receive them, but it became a bit of a joke that we would have to have a strawberry fight to get rid of them before they all molded. We never took a count of how many cartons we received, but it was a lot. As they continued to stack up, the joke became more of a plan – we would have a strawberry fight after Bill’s funeral.

The morning of the funeral came, and we were all ready. It was something we dreaded but also sought – hoping it would bring closure or peace. In a way, it did. Time moves strangely when you’re in mourning – days run together, food is just to keep you on your feet, sleep doesn’t come, eyes constantly brimming ready to weep. It’s hard to talk about Bill without laughing a lot though – he was a funny man, and he was always ready with a joke or a pun – so I won’t say it was all tears and long faces. I hoped after the funeral, we could start trying to heal – to go out in public, to begin sorting through the house, to wear mascara again. The funeral was beautiful. The church was overflowing with mourners and clergy, and the choir sang his favorite songs. There was a graveside service and then a lunch at the parish hall with a slideshow of pictures from Bill’s life that Matt, Mark, and Paige put together.

When we got back to the house, there were two large flats of strawberries on the porch from some of Paige’s friends – they had heard about the strawberry fight and wanted to contribute. We changed into comfortable clothes, and as family left and friends arrived, we fell into talking outside on the back porch – like we so frequently do out there. We set the strawberries in the afternoon sun, so they would be nice and soft for the fight. We all knew it was coming.

As the sun was beginning to set, without a word of agreement or discussion of any kind, someone picked up a pack of strawberries and moved out into the vast lawn. There was no resistance – no inhibitions or anyone saying ‘don’t get it in my hair’ – we all just went with it. We ran, tackled, squished, and threw all of the fresh strawberries we had and then proceeded to find those that were still large enough to throw again and again. They stung a little if the thrower hadn’t squeezed them first, but it felt so good to hit and be hit and run and exert ourselves. Paige preferred to run up and squish them directly on her target – Mary liked to tackle – Mark preferred a shotgun effect by throwing several at once. We were like children. We all gave in and let all of that emotion flow through us. We smelled sweet and were covered in sticky, strawberry mess. Bill was with each of us individually and all of us together at the same time. He would have loved it, and it seemed like the most fitting activity as a farewell tribute to the man we all loved so much. After we exhausted our arms, legs, and strawberry artillery, I started hosing everyone off, but it was going too slow, so Matt’s friend Phil decided instead we should all jump in the pond. Again, no inhibitions, no worries (I hadn’t ever gotten in the Dunbar’s pond because I was afraid) – we just jumped in and played like children.

There were no injuries that day – well, nothing serious anyway. Mary twisted her ankle while tackling me and left her phone in her pocket as she jumped into the pond, but she’s fine, and it was an old phone. Paige and Matt both got a couple of nasty bruises. I lost my wedding band either in the lawn or the pond. I was certainly very upset – especially since it was the ring Bill had blessed at our wedding – but I decided that if it was ever going to be lost on any day during any activity, I was glad that it was on the day we buried Bill, somewhere in the vast plot of land he so lovingly cultivated and nurtured, and after the greatest strawberry fight of all time.

Regardless of what you believe happens (or doesn’t happen) after death, our loved ones will always be with us. We carry them in our hearts, souls, brains, memories, energy or whatever you want to call it. Although it sucks so much to know that you will never get another hug from them or hear them laugh, you will always have their love. I am grateful to have known Bill and will carry him with me always.