This father admitted he was slower than he should have been, and then told the story of a funeral for a sparrow.
My son Will once apologized to a chair he walked into. Out loud. "Sorry, buddy." He was nineteen.
Will treats everything he meets as though it deserves a fair hearing. The chair, the stranger, the idea he disagrees with. I want to say one honest thing, and then I will move on. I was slower than I should have been to catch up to my own son, and he waited for me. That is who he is.
When Will was eight, he found a dead sparrow under the maple in our yard. He decided there should be a funeral. He dug the hole himself, with a serving spoon from my wife's good drawer, and he asked me to say a few words.
I had nothing. I stood there with my hands in my pockets, while an eight year old looked up at me, waiting for the grown-up part. Then he said, "That's okay, Dad, I'll do it." And he did. Four minutes. He said the bird had been a good flyer, that it had probably had a nice breakfast, and that it was missed. He closed with, "He was a good bird."
I was crying and laughing at the same time, with the serving spoon in my hand. My wife still has the spoon.
Sam, I did not know what Will needed until you showed up. He gives everything a fair hearing. You give everything a laugh. The first Thanksgiving you were at our house, you stood up with the carving knife and delivered a full eulogy for the turkey. Will lost it. He had tears down his face, and I thought: there it is. The two halves.
Last spring they drove up to the lake house for a weekend and stayed a week. They rebuilt the dock without a plan, argued about the right nail, and Will apologized to the nail. I stood on the porch with my coffee and understood that my job, all along, had been to hold the door and stay out of the way.
He has spent his whole life giving the world his honest attention. It turns out all he needed was one person who would meet him there, and then do the voices.
So here is what I wish for you. I wish you a kitchen full of bad speeches and good food. I wish you a long list of small funerals for small things, and a bigger list of reasons to laugh at them. I wish you the habit of saying sorry to the furniture, together, for fifty years.
Please raise your glass to Will and Sam.
End of speech. The Vault holds 3 more father of the groom speeches, named below.