Dean Abbott Trudell:
September 20, 1939- September 30, 1999

We are gathered here today to say goodbye to a beloved father, son, brother, uncle, and grandfather.

Today we say goodbye but every day from now on, we will remember the love he showed us, and the wisdom he shared with us.

My father played many roles during the 60 years of his life. He was a witness to history, a participant in revolution, and a believer in the American heritage, especially the Native Americans. He believed they deserved more then what they got. Dad had a prodigious memory, names, places, dates, and events of long ago: he could recall them all decades later with astonishing precision. He delighted in recounting his experiences to us. He was one of our last links to a time and place, which now seem so remote but which continue to mark us today. Love is not an easy emotion to put into words. My dad had a hard time saying those three words, but we knew he loved us. Our childhood was a difficult one and things happened, but we forgave and moved on with our lives, just as he did. When we were older, he became the father I knew and loved. To some he might have seemed harsh and uncaring, but deep down he was a loving caring soul. He touched many lives in his 60 years and tried to be the best man he could be, and in my eyes he was. My fondest memories of my father are of talking long hours on the phone and when he came to visit three years ago. I tried so hard to make his and my grandmothers stay comfortable. Of all places my dad wanted to sleep, was in our basement on a cot. He wouldn't have it any other way, so we got him a cot and set him up in our basement. The first night he was here, the cot ripped and he ended up on the cement floor. He didn't want to bother anyone so that is where he slept. The next day I told him we would get him something else to sleep on, & he said the floor was fine down there. And that is where he slept. That is how I remember my father being, a strong, independent man, who hated to bother anyone. He was never a bother to me. I often think my father just wanted to find where he belonged. He hated 95% of the jobs he ever had and he would admit this today if he were here. I believe my dad found his true love & where he belonged when he was hired at the Methodist Church. Never in my life had I ever heard my father talk so compassionately or lovingly about a job he had, like he did about the church. That church was his life and coming from a man who professed he didn't believe in God, made me think he finally found his calling. And his faith, if just a little. I think, and I hope, my father would speak these words to give us comfort in our time of grief. A poem that maybe my father would share:

I'm Free:

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free
I'm following the path God laid for me.
I took his hand when I heard him call
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day.
To laugh, to love, to work or play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I found that peace at close of day.
If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,
Ah yes, these things I too will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow,
I wish you sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full, I've savored much,
Good friends, good times,
A loved one's touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief;
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your hearts and share with me,
God wanted me now;
He set me free.

Some of you might not of known, but my father was very good with words and wrote some poems himself to express his inner feelings. He wrote so beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. The poem that he wrote that I cherish so much is about American Indians. I would like to share it with you.

"What Have We Done"

Hear me, oh Red man, if you want to save your hide,
Because here you surely can't abide.
Take your pagan customs with you, please do,
Get off the planet, I would if I were you.
Don't cherish the land in which you were born,
We already have your tobacco and corn.
Without your help we couldn't have survived,
But now that civilization has been revived.
A payment is due, we'll pay you in lead,
We won't sleep a moment, until you're all dead.
An enemy like you we can't understand,
We take, and you give, and you hold out your hand.
A handshake with you makes my stomach turn,
How come you're so stupid, how come you don't learn?
I believe in the saying that someone once said,
The only good Indian is one that is dead.
Our God hates a heathen now this we all know,
If he doesn't change his ways to hell he must go.
So, we help out our god in all the ways we can,
We kill all the pagans and take over their land.
The diseases we've fed them are working too slow,
They don't hurt enough, not near enough woe.
We'll make them all starve, show them how low we can go,
So, we killed and we killed to the last buffalo.
Bison don't fight back so we made a great show,
We cut out their tongues and we ripped off their skins.
But god will forgive us for all of our sins.
If we pray every morning and also at night,
Our sins are forgiven, everything is alright.
So, the survivers were put on a reservation,
The last lost people of a once proud nation.
People shouldn't go down with the setting sun,
America what in god's name have you done?
America the beautiful, America the free,
You've lost something essential as it could be.
From your highest mountains to your shining sea,
There should be a part of what use to be.
Not the clutter of mankind everywhere you look,
Why not give back a little of what you took.
Native Americans are still here today,
But no body listens to what they have to say.
They said it before and they say it again,
You can't own the land, you don't own the rain.
So, why can't we learn from people who know,
They have only been here twenty thousand years or so.
Could it be that they know this immense and great land,
Like you know your children or the back of your hand.
Why haven't we learned from people so great,
We are here today we leave what we create.
Be it jungles of garbage or polluted water,
The land still owns you, your only a squatter....

There's just one thing I'd like to add ,
Dad, if you can hear me, I love you so.
Not a day will go by that I won't remember,
Nor all that you taught me in life.
Every fall season I thought of you & now I will cherish this season forever more.
You were my knight in shining armor,
And I you called, "Daddy's little girl"
I will always remember you & am looking forward to seeing you in heaven.

Your daughter Always, Beckie