Beerinmydirtcup
Member
For the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this letter. The difficulty in it comes when I try to figure out where to start. One line leads down a path and ultimately I would realize there is no way to convey the point completely.
That point comes deeply from my heart and those of my brothers and mother.
Thank you.
Thank you not just for your financial contribution to help out the family, not just for the cards, letters and phone calls in the past 18 months, but for loving my dad.
For me and my brothers, Dad was the guy to look to for the answers. You needed a car fixed; he’d know what to do. You needed directions for a date, dad was there. For us, the sad reality is that he’s physically no longer with us to help.
But dad wasn’t just that way to us. He helped everybody who needed it like he was family. If you weren’t a friend, you quickly became one.
Many of you knew dad from his 20-plus years in the racing world, a place he was incredibly proud to be a part of. I attended my first race when I was two and for the next 18 I rarely knew a Friday or Saturday night that didn’t include a visit to a race track. In the days immediately following Dad’s passing, it became clear that my brothers and I weren’t the only ones to fall in love with the sport because of him.
Dozens of people went to the track with dad and left in love. Sure, it’s because racing is a truly great sport, but it was more so because his love for the sport was contagious. It was an incurable virus or an addiction to many that went with him.
And Dad was fair. Certainly he had friends on the track, but never did he place that friendship ahead of making the right call. Never. He always knew that true friends would not place the outcome of a heat race over what would be a lifelong friendship.
That’s the racing side of dad. A book could be written of the rest.
With his love for Scouting, Little League baseball and as a trustee on the Greenville Fire Department board, he was fair, but loving. Every person’s need was considered. Every person’s thought was included. Every person’s hopes were at the center of it all.
Cancer is an awful, awful diagnosis to get. My brother Dan truly believes it is the devil and it is a point that is hard to dispute. No matter how you fight, it robs your body of its capabilities.
With Dad, it also robbed him of his mind. Not once, even in the worst of the worst moments,
did he ever lose his soul.
Eventually, it became too much for his body and mind.
His soul lives on and always will.
If there is one thing I personally learned in the past 18 months, from you and all the other people who came to our family’s side, it is that love is greater than any force.
My hope, my family’s hope, is that the love you showed to Dad lingers. Not just to us, but to everyone out there. The next time you leave home, tell your spouse and kids how much you love them. If you haven’t talked to a friend in a while, make a phone call.
Most of all make sure you live every single day.
Despite what he suffered through, Dad was one of the lucky ones. He truly learned in his life how much he was loved. That was an extraordinary gift.
For that, we thank you.
Bill Walker and the rest of the Dave Walker family (Linda, Dan, Tom, Eric and Clayton).
That point comes deeply from my heart and those of my brothers and mother.
Thank you.
Thank you not just for your financial contribution to help out the family, not just for the cards, letters and phone calls in the past 18 months, but for loving my dad.
For me and my brothers, Dad was the guy to look to for the answers. You needed a car fixed; he’d know what to do. You needed directions for a date, dad was there. For us, the sad reality is that he’s physically no longer with us to help.
But dad wasn’t just that way to us. He helped everybody who needed it like he was family. If you weren’t a friend, you quickly became one.
Many of you knew dad from his 20-plus years in the racing world, a place he was incredibly proud to be a part of. I attended my first race when I was two and for the next 18 I rarely knew a Friday or Saturday night that didn’t include a visit to a race track. In the days immediately following Dad’s passing, it became clear that my brothers and I weren’t the only ones to fall in love with the sport because of him.
Dozens of people went to the track with dad and left in love. Sure, it’s because racing is a truly great sport, but it was more so because his love for the sport was contagious. It was an incurable virus or an addiction to many that went with him.
And Dad was fair. Certainly he had friends on the track, but never did he place that friendship ahead of making the right call. Never. He always knew that true friends would not place the outcome of a heat race over what would be a lifelong friendship.
That’s the racing side of dad. A book could be written of the rest.
With his love for Scouting, Little League baseball and as a trustee on the Greenville Fire Department board, he was fair, but loving. Every person’s need was considered. Every person’s thought was included. Every person’s hopes were at the center of it all.
Cancer is an awful, awful diagnosis to get. My brother Dan truly believes it is the devil and it is a point that is hard to dispute. No matter how you fight, it robs your body of its capabilities.
With Dad, it also robbed him of his mind. Not once, even in the worst of the worst moments,
did he ever lose his soul.
Eventually, it became too much for his body and mind.
His soul lives on and always will.
If there is one thing I personally learned in the past 18 months, from you and all the other people who came to our family’s side, it is that love is greater than any force.
My hope, my family’s hope, is that the love you showed to Dad lingers. Not just to us, but to everyone out there. The next time you leave home, tell your spouse and kids how much you love them. If you haven’t talked to a friend in a while, make a phone call.
Most of all make sure you live every single day.
Despite what he suffered through, Dad was one of the lucky ones. He truly learned in his life how much he was loved. That was an extraordinary gift.
For that, we thank you.
Bill Walker and the rest of the Dave Walker family (Linda, Dan, Tom, Eric and Clayton).
