Love you, Dad
- Justin Kauflin
- Sep 30
- 3 min read
Updated: 5 days ago
My brother Colin's Eulogy said it so well:
"Frank, Colin"
I would have preferred hearing that phone greeting from you. Actually, I think there are a lot of
people in this room that want to hear the same.
Thank you all for coming to celebrate the life of Francis Paul Kauflin. Also known in our family,
as Frank the Tank Stevenson, the Sweet Tea Prince, Mom’s Mountain Man, our Dad. He
wanted this gathering to be a joyous occasion. But it’s hard to be happy when that means he’s
not here.
That means no more greetings at the door. No more birthday cards. No more golf and DIY on
the TV. No more jokes about how the food is great but you can’t taste anything. No more
answering calls from Chuck, most likely. No more getting to hear how you did on the course
today. No more a lot of things, but most of all no more pain.
Dad was the hardest working man I’ve ever witnessed. Even with a pinched nerve, a broken
leg, a newly replaced knee, skin cancer, basically, everywhere, the man could not and would not
be stopped. He built and fixed just about everything around us. My mom and his first house
together, the house we live in now, his daughter’s house, Grandpa Jim’s house, Grandma Julie’s
house, I think you get it, he fixed a lot of houses. If he wasn’t doing that, he was already onto
the next project.. Most likely, he was doing it shirtless, maybe even in those questionably short
shorts. I would get mad at him, because he needed to recover. But he made it pretty clear it
wasn’t just because his hearing aids never worked — he simply refused to listen when I told him
to slow down. So God came to him — three times in one hour — through the pain of an acute
pulmonary embolism, to say, “It’s time to rest now.”
After reading what many of you had written about my father, it was evident he was a prime
example of a gentle man. Maybe not behind the wheel as his defensive driving would suggest,
or if the group in front of him was playing too slow for his liking. Regardless of impatience, his
compassion for others and gentle spirit was something that could only be described as found in
God. Ever since he saw that bumper sticker, “No God, No Peace, Know God, Know Peace.”
Something so simple that guided you from a life of a tough guy, to a life of love and peace.
And with that love, he met Mom. Together, they raised a family of five, cared for their parents
with the same devotion he gave us all. And somehow, he still managed to save a little, well...
maybe a lot, of that love for golf. His spirit was indomitable, so strong, but eventually the body
just couldn’t keep up. Maybe it was all those ice cream cones you scooped right after dinner, or
the cookies you snuck throughout the day because sweetness was the one thing you could
taste. But no — you were healthy, your heart was strong, and you were getting better every day.
Flossers
Birthday card for Chris, his son
Sympathy card for Jack Green’s Family
Robert Reich “Coming Up Short”
Saw Palmetto
Cinnamon
Apple Cider Vinegar
Cookies
Orange Juice
Cereal
A list I will never forget. You collapsed in my arms as we shopped for these things. And as I sat
in the emergency room with your clothes in my hand and your shoes at my feet. I could only
think one thing, “Too big. Nobody can fit these.” I realized that’s because we’re not meant to.
Your shoes, too big for us to wear, but making it easier to follow in the footsteps you left behind.
Even on a simple grocery list, your love and compassion shone through. Always a thoughtful
soul, always a guiding presence, always a provider for us to move on.
But I learned recently there is no moving on with grief, only moving with and moving through.
We love you, we miss you, and we’ll carry you with us always. We take comfort knowing you’re
in the arms of the Lord, free from pain and full of peace. Until we see you again, we’ll keep
walking in faith — following the path you helped build, guided by the same love that now holds
you in Heaven.