Patio Pondering: The Power of Presence
This morning, I am alone on the patio, alone with my thoughts and the sounds of birds and insects over the babbling of our backyard water feature. The leaves glisten with moisture from last night’s rain, and the air hangs heavy with humidity. The solitude brings calm, but also space to reflect on memories stirred up yesterday.
Yesterday I attended the funeral of a man who once scared the dickens out of me, Butch Wygant. His dark glasses, his few words, and the way he seemed to look straight through you; it was intimidating. Only later did I realize I was in the presence of a strong, loyal, kind, and loving man. At the time, he was simply protecting his daughter from the dangers of teenage boys like me.
I first knew Butch as a 4-H leader on the Allen County board, but I did not really spend time with him until I began dating his daughter in the late 80s. That’s when I was welcomed into his and Elsie’s home as Sasha’s date, then boyfriend. Even after using the hokiest of pickup lines—“You don’t look a thing like your father”—she still let me stick around. We fished together, traveled to Schaffer’s to buy boars, and shared the ordinary moments that come when you are dating into a family.
When my journey through life parted from his, he and Elsie would cross my mind from time to time with little remembrances of happy moments, parent-like guidance, and Elsie’s delicious cream puffs. When my family and I returned to Indiana, I stopped to visit a few times on my many trips across the state. My regret is that I did not turn off US 24 more often, especially as Father Time pulled at Butch’s days here on Earth.
It wasn’t until his funeral that I began to grasp the full weight of his life. This was not a service of empty words from a pastor who barely knew the deceased. It was a true celebration, filled with stories from students, athletes, friends, and family, stretching back to 1962 when he began teaching.
Back then, I only saw him as “Sasha’s dad.” I was focused on movies, Pizza Hut, and who else might be joining us. A time or two, I should have been focused on the gas gauge, too. I was not truly present with him, not in the way that mattered, not in the way he was celebrated today.
Hearing the stories filled in the picture of a man who shaped countless lives in the classroom, on the playing field, and through extracurricular activities. And the hug I received from Elsie reminded me that even after 35 years, I still hold a place with them. It reminded me of the power of presence; his with me then, and mine with them now.
Over the past year I vowed to attend funerals of friends and family. It’s not always easy to walk into those rooms when you’re only a shirt-tail relation, a long-lost friend, or someone who used to be there. But I see it as a sign of respect, a way to honor a life; a simple “thank you” for being important to me in some way. Yesterday, sitting with the parents of my best friend from high school and college, I realized I will be attending more of these as time goes on. I may be on the edge of the circle, but I still showed up. Because showing up matters.
So, my plea is simple: don’t wait until the funeral to realize what someone meant. Give yourself permission to visit, to stop in, to be present with the people who matter while there’s still time. Take the time. Visit. Attend. Show up.
As Sasha said in her reflection yesterday: take the time to be PRESENT.