Robert Don Dobbs
January 5, 1942 – February 24th, 2019
Here is a link to the obituary that my brother lovingly wrote
These are the words I spoke at the funeral to remember and honor my Dad.
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I am a man with a life littered with bad ideas. Some of which unfortunately I have acted upon. Thinking I could get through saying these words may be another in that list. But here we go.
I'm Jeff Dobbs. Bob and Pam's son. Younger brother to Leslie and older brother to Scott. On behalf of our family thank you all for coming. It means a lot to us. I am certain Dad would be touched. But we all know he's laughing a little bit at the thought we would make such a spectacle. But you know what Dad, joke's on you, you left us to our own devices - and you know what happens when Mom and Leslie and Scott and I are left to our own devices! So a spectacle it is!
Because we love you. Because we want to honor you. Because even in this moment when things seem sad and the hurt and pain seem so strong, we want to remember all the ways you loved us. Yours was a life well-lived and a life to be celebrated with joy.
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There are more than a few running jokes in our family, but one sticks out perhaps more than any other.
"Bobby, stop, turn around!" Mom would yell as we drove through Yellowstone National Park, wanting to go back and see some wildlife. He didn't always stop. "No we've got to keep on going" he would often say. Of course, there was that time Dad famously did turn around. On the road to Mt Washburn. You see there was a mountain lion lying in the grass on the hillside. Well, ok, it turned out to be a mountain lion shaped and mountain lion colored rock, which we only determined after having turned around like a dozen times. And while a mountain lion shaped rock is not quite as exciting to look at as an actual mountain lion, it surely made for a better running joke.
Another running joke is that Dad loved to tell stories. And he liked to use, let's say, a lot of creative license in telling his stories. And, well, Mom likes her stories told with details that are, um, well, factually correct. Often Dad would be telling a story and Mom would interject, "But that's not how it happened!" Dad would then try to brush it off and keep going and after finishing his story, end with, "I like the story my way better anyway".
Well, related, I am famous in the family for having a pretty poor memory when it comes to my childhood. So let's just say that there are times when I will use, well, creative license in filling in some of the gaps in those memories. So, Mom, please forgive me if a detail here or there is not exact. I've asked Leslie and Scott to restrain you if you try to interrupt me. And if they can’t get it done, I’m calling in the grandkids. No but really, you know what, if it gets to be too much - go ahead and interrupt. Dad would get a real kick out of it. "See what I had to put up with all these years!"
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We drove a lot when Leslie, Scott and I were growing up. We drove A LOT. We'd go on epic 3-4 week vacations covering 7,000 miles going through New Mexico and Arizona then California and Oregon and Washington, up through British Columbia and Alberta and back down through Idaho and Montana and Wyoming and of course we'd linger in Yellowstone. Finally we'd return home through Utah and Colorado, back through New Mexico and finish up here in Dallas. Those trips make up such amazing memories for me and for our family. They really are central to who I am.
And on all those trips growing up, Mom, Scott and I were adventurers and hikers. We'd find a trail and off we'd go. And while we were off on our trails, Dad and Leslie would live it up together doing the things they loved, like eating Teton burgers and . . . well, mostly not hiking and taking in the park from the car. In fact we've joked that Dad should publish a book chronicling his particular brand of adventure, titled something like "The Best of Yellowstone...Without Leaving Your Car".
In fact those trips left such an imprint on me that after my freshman year in college, I found a summer job up in Yellowstone cleaning cabins. Ah the fresh mountain air and . . . . well, scrubbing toilets. And I spent the following summer at Snow Mountain Ranch in Colorado. And not to be outdone, Scott also went to work up in Yellowstone in college. Only, he never left. He's been in and around the Jackson Hole and Teton areas ever since.
Ahhhh, so much revolved around those trips. Dad behind the wheel for hours and hours and miles and miles. In the early years it was in a station wagon. Scott would climb in the back and make a little fort and hang out with his stuffed animals. Leslie would be sitting behind Dad and she would read or listen to her Walkman. And I would sit in the center, leaning forward with my arms and chin resting on the front seat taking in the changing scenery of the road . . . for hours and hours and miles and miles. Mom was in the front seat of course, and faithfully she would record all sorts of information about the fun and important things that happened - and then she would often pull out a newspaper or magazine article she had read and wanted to share with us by reading it out loud.
Dad behind the wheel. He knew where we were going, and he would get us there. That's not just in a station wagon or a van. That was his life. That was our life as a family. Dad knows the way and we know he will get us there.
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If I got into full-on memory sharing mode we'd be here for hours. Oh we'd laugh, we'd cry, we'd cry from laughing and . . . well they'd eventually kick us out of here because the stories could go on for longer than those road trips.
But just to circle back because Yellowstone and the mountains were so central to our family, and at the risk of repeating some of what was in the obituary, in 2000 Dad fulfilled a dream and bought his house up in Idaho. He and Mom had their Idahome. Oh did we as a family love that place. And our family? It had beautifully grown - with my Claire and Scott’s Kristin and Leslie’s Jeremy, all of whom Dad loved like his own. I mean let’s be honest there have been times when I wondered if he liked his son and daughters in law more than his actual kids!
And then of course over time we filled Idahome with grandkids: Jack and Jackson and Madison and Sydney and Autumn and Peyton and Audrey. As much as Dad loved the mountains, and as much as having a home where he could go to relax and enjoy those views meant to him . . . it was spending time with those grandkids that was the real dream come true for him.
Kids, your Papa, your Baba, loved you so very very much.
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I've had a rough few years. No need for details, but some of that spilled over to my relationship with Dad. In the past 9 months I’ve thankfully turned some things around. And in the past 6 months especially, I was able to be a better son to my Dad and share with him my struggles and let him walk with me in trying to make things right. It has been so good to have seen that relationship heal and grow closer.
Throughout my life, whenever Dad and I were saying goodbye after a visit, he would hug me and say "I love you, bud". I loved that. And in these last few months when he and I would talk, he would very deliberately make a point to say “I’m proud of you, son”. Oh those words were so strengthening. So comforting. So empowering.
There is nothing better than to hear your Dad tell you he loves you and is proud of you.
Last Sunday morning - the day Dad passed away, a pastor I follow on Twitter posted a Bible verse. It's been my favorite verse since college. It’s a verse that still stops me in my tracks. I treasured it that morning when I read it. And later that day after finding out Dad had died, I kept coming back to it again and again.
Zephaniah 3:17:
The Lord your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.
My Dad, when he passed from this life and passed into eternity, came face to face with his Heavenly Father. And he was greeted with this very rejoicing and singing. The God of the universe greeted Dad with rejoicing and singing. And I imagine like in the parable Jesus told in Matthew 25, Dad heard God say, "well done good and faithful servant".
There is nothing better than to hear your Heavenly Father say I love you, my son. I’m proud of you.
Dad has gone on ahead of us. But he’s still driving this family. He knows the way and is still showing it to us. And while we are left behind here for now, we know that we will join him when our times come. We look forward to that day!
But for now we are saying our earthly goodbyes.
Dad I love you, and I am proud of you.