C. Lynwood Walters (Dad) - September 26, 1945 to November 2, 2021

This a photo of my Dad and me shortly after I was born.

My dad passed away earlier this month. While I began processing the grief of losing him following his diagnosis with cancer a few years ago, the truth is - it was hard to say goodbye. While hard, I quickly embraced reality because he was in pain and had lost most of the freedoms life previously afforded him, which was hard to watch a loved one go through.

I gave the following Eulogy at his memorial service at First Baptist Church Gainesville:

For all of us who were fortunate to know and love my Dad, Lynwood, the only things that will truly capture who he was are the memories we each hold within our hearts. It’s impossible for me to describe his complete essence as a husband, father, grandfather, spiritual advisor, or friend. Many of you remember his sense of humor, which you’ll be happy to know was present until the end. Based on my own memories and observations over the years, if I could use a few words to sum up my Dad, it's this:  unconditional love and acceptance.

As you all know, I grew up in the Baptist church because my Dad was a Baptist minister. We went to church every Wednesday night for dinner and fellowship, every Sunday morning for Sunday School and worship, and every Sunday afternoon for youth group and choir practice. We spent so much time at church that I figured I would grow up to be a minister just like my Dad.  [Spoiler Alert:  life happened, and well, I am not a minister.]

My parents always encouraged my curiosity, and I learned from my parents to love and accept all people – no matter their background. In college, I interacted with people from all walks of life and loved them all. Many of my friends came from families who were far away or who didn't accept them, so I brought them all over to my parents’ home for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. My parents always welcomed everyone to their table with open arms. Unconditional love and acceptance.

Shortly after I graduated from university, I moved to India for two years. India is one of the most diverse religious countries in the world. Before I walked through security at the airport to board the flight to New Delhi, my Dad handed me Annie Lamott's book, Traveling Mercies. He said, "Traveling mercies" or in other words,". . . love the journey, God is with you, come home safe and sound." Unconditional love and acceptance. 

While my education was important, this life experience in India was incredibly impactful. When my Dad came to visit me, I took him on a spiritual tour around India to some of the holiest cities in the world. We saw Dharmsala, which is the Tibetan refuge where the Dalai Lama lives in exile. We traveled to Amritsar, which is home to the Sikh golden temple. We went to Varanasi and observed Hindu cremation rituals alongside the banks of the Ganges River. We visited the largest mosque in the world in Old Delhi, where we attended a Friday call to prayer. We observed, prayed, meditated, shared meals, and partook in some of the religious rituals performed in each place. Together, my Dad and I were curious, open-minded, and accepted people for who they were and where they were in life. It was a gift, and this experience forever changed me. It strengthened - and altered - my faith. I talked to my Dad about the evolution of my faith, and he quoted Will Rogers. "I was raised predominantly a Methodist, but I have traveled so much, mixed with so many people in all parts of the world, I don't know just now what I am.  I know I have never been a non-believer. But I can honestly tell you that I don't think that any one religion is the religion." Unconditional love and acceptance.

Over the last couple of weeks, as I sat near my Dad while dying, I pulled out some of his old sermons to find solace. It was a trip down memory lane and also a glimpse into the evolution of his own faith over the years. In his early days, his sermons read like term papers and included many Bible scriptures and parables. In his later days, his sermons still contained scripture and references from the Bible. However, he made them relatable for his congregations by sharing real-life examples and wisdom he gleaned from interacting with so many people from different backgrounds throughout his life. My Dad attended meetings to advocate for women to be ordained, which was not a popular stance in our small towns in North Carolina. During the AIDS crisis, he sat with families who lost their loved ones. I observed his friendship with and love for people who had different life experiences than he had, such as addiction, divorce, or domestic abuse. For an intercultural communications class at the University of Florida, when I was grappling with my sexuality and faith, I wrote a research paper about homosexuality and the Bible. My Dad bought and read books with me to dissect the scriptures so often used against homosexuality. Together, we learned through our research that they were being used out of context. [My very Catholic professor gave me an A+ and said she learned so much from the paper, which pleased my Dad.] Unconditional love and acceptance.

After becoming a hospice chaplain, he sat with more than 500 families from all walks of life and many different religions. For non-Christian funerals, to prepare, he read books about beliefs with which he was unfamiliar, studied end-of-life rituals, and asked thoughtful questions to best support families as he guided these end-of-life rituals. Unconditional love and acceptance.

When I arrived at my parents’ home from Germany for what I knew would be the last time my Dad would be able to greet me in this life after a long journey, he welcomed me with open arms. As he transitioned from consciousness to unconsciousness and from this life to the arms of his Creator, it was an honor to be present. While my Dad dying is perhaps the single most challenging thing I've faced in life so far, in true Lynwood fashion, he was instructive until the end. I had to acknowledge hard truths. Still, his influence and unconditional love and acceptance gave me the courage to show up, be present, and encourage him as he took this final journey. One of the last things I told my Dad was, "Traveling mercies, Dad.  I love you." He said, "I love you.  I love you.  I love you," and he kissed my hand, which was perhaps the last lesson of unconditional love and acceptance he imparted to me.

So, today, to honor this man, I ask you to do as he spent his time on Earth:  This man, Lynwood — my father, my mother's husband, your friend, and your spiritual advisor — challenged us and himself greatly and often quietly, while always letting us know he was with us and we were not alone. Challenge yourself to grow, to accept, and to let others different from yourself know they are not alone. My father loved us for all of our identities and our own believed truths. He would be proud to watch our growth. Thanks for loving my father; he loved and accepted us all — unconditionally.

Rest in peace, Dad. You are loved, and I will carry your spirit with me forever.