Letting go…..

These are the type of captures you get when you hire a professional to capture your event. I cannot even express what it feels like to have this image AND to have it forever. My friend and colleague Eddie Bojorquez @ Studio 512, captured the whole day for us and free’d me up from feeling like I had to. I got to stay in the moment.   Priceless.   Thank you Eddie!   (and of course there will be more images!)

Hello Friends,

August 10, 2013 marked the one year anniversary of my father’s passing. I’ve been warned that “the milestones are the toughest,” and ain’t that the truth.

Just a week ago, our family and friends set sail from San Diego Bay aboard “Adventuress”, a 60 foot catamaran, to celebrate my dad’s life.  This post was created to share with our many family and friends who also miss my father – some of whom were there but many more were unable to join us. Please feel free to leave any comments, words or stories below as it is in these expressions that we continue to enjoy and remember my dad’s life.

Time may not make it easier but it does give you perspective. A year of reflecting on the wonderful life that was my father’s enabled us to plan a celebration of his time here, not just a memorial. Given how he lived life, it was more-than fitting. It was a beautiful blue-sky day, complete with family, close friends, laughter, tears, big hugs, a “Before I die, I want to” dream board, and a Rose ceremony on the stern of the boat where we all shared our love for my dad and tossed our hearts into the gently retreating wake of the boat.

My Dad, an avid sailor, and lover of good friends, would have cherished that day from behind his “zinc oxided” nose and “Mount Gay rum” sun visor. In fact, I commented, that the only thing missing that day was my father himself. In truth, I know he was there as several of us witnessed one single rose, thrown by my nephew, Tristan, refuse to leave the wake of the boat, spinning and turning back to the stern where he sat watching it for what seemed like several minutes. For us, and perhaps all those who have lost someone close, it’s these moments that we hold on tight to.

My brother and my mother wrote speeches and shared stories to express the love felt for my father. More than a few tears and many laughs were shed. Me, however…. I’ve never been as comfortable expressing myself in this way and so I fell back on my two passions, images and music, to create a slideshow that I hope paid tribute to his life… and mine too. In fact, I poured hours upon hours into this slideshow to get it just right: from the images to the timing and order, to the music selection. Music was a shared passion of ours and I wanted to nail it, I needed to nail it.

As I was working on it over the course of about 4 weeks, I realized that my relentless determination and commitment to this project (and any project I take on really – no doubt something I get from my father too) was, in fact, part of my own healing. Countless viewings of this show, shifting, changing, re-editing the music, became my peace, my expression and my letting go.

Did I nail it? It’s hard to say. How can you possibly capture such a full and wonderful life in just 15 minutes? How do you immortalize the vibrant spirit of someone you loved so much? But just imagining his smile and hearing his bold laughter (you all hear that, right?), with a lime-garnished drink in hand, in the cabin of that boat on that beautiful blue sky day… he would have praised my efforts and, for me, that’s good enough. It is.

I have included the slideshow below for all those wishing to spend a little time in the life of Randy Richmond- turn up the tunes and sit back and enjoy. To enlarge- point your mouse to the lower right corner and click on brackets. Below the slideshow I have also included the Eulogy spoken by my brother.

Peace, and thank you.

Lisa

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Here is my introduction to the  slideshow that I created for my Dad’s Celebration of Life.

When we first found out about the cancer that would eventually take my father, one of the first things I said to my Dad was, “OK Dad, what do you want to do with the time you have?”

This is likely much the same as my father would have said to me if the roles had been reversed.  We as a family tend to face the situation head-on, plan a course of action, roll up our sleeves, and set about getting it done.

The truth is, he said that throughout life he had done what he loved;  shared his life with my mother, spent time and shared some laughs with his many friends and family, sailed the oceans blue, and…yes, continued the task of getting his paperwork done.   He found a passion in his work and a strong work ethic that he has passed on (for better or worse) to Jim and me.

Despite an early departure, my father lived life on his terms, and I think he had a sense of satisfaction that he had done so.  He also had a chance to say goodbyes – an opportunity that many of us may not be provided.  It made me think about the things I want to experience in my own life.

Often the first step to realizing a life-long dream or goal is to express it.  What do you most want to do? What is a priority for your own life?

I would like to thank all of you for being here, for being our close friends, and supporting us especially throughout these past couple years. To Eddie, my friend and our photographer today for allowing this photographer the luxury to be truly present with you in the moment. To my brother Jim who through his immense smarts, big heart, and new Coronado business location has been able to provide my mother and our families with solid, dependable, and direct support. To Jeff, Jaz, and Ember for their perfectly timed hugs and to Jeff for always being willing to work on and help find the right words of expression. And to my mom, whom I love so, so much AND for ALWAYS being there for me.

And, finally to my dad for consistently encouraging me to do what I want to do, to reach for my goals, and for giving me the self-confidence and self-esteem to go out and get it done. ” Just go do it”.

I love you, daddy.

Eulogy by James Richmond

Randolph G. Richmond
1938 – 2012

Thank you all for being here on this special day as we celebrate the life of Randy Richmond, Liz’s life partner, Lisa’s and my father, Tristan, Azure, Jaz and Ember’s Grandfather.  Your loyal friend and business associate.

I’m proud of my Father, and grateful for the good life he made for us. I consider myself lucky to have grown up with a Father, that didn’t fight or die in a war, that was married to my mother for 52 years until death do us part, and had his health and wits about him pretty much until the very end. Randy grew up poor, in damp and overcast Oregon, and thus his drive to be successful was probably rooted as a reaction to his childhood experiences. Nonetheless, he loved Oregon, his mother and father, and his cadre of brother and sisters, the river, the salmon, his Native American heritage, and the land of his ancestors.

He especially loved his mother, Alys. The cruel irony is that Alys, having died of colon cancer…, well it motivated Randy to get regular screenings for colon cancer, and so overlooking the pancreatic cancer, that by the time he was diagnosed, it was too late.  Even so, once he learned of his fate, he took it on with his characteristic drive and determination, a striving that is difficult to understand, and even harder to believe. With the help of his old friend, Ed Altieri, plus the loyal support of Debbie Watts, and Chris Ing, Randy sold his business while his body gave way, and in so doing, protected the interests of his clients, and set my mother up with enough resources to live comfortably. Randy would not let go until every appointment was checked off his calendar, and every detail was attended to. He crossed the finish line with sails full.

Randy was a sailor, and therefore so am I. It was our bottom line of agreement, perhaps the only thing we ever agreed on. Growing up in the world of competitive sailing, under Randy’s mentorship, uniquely prepared me for adult life. The strategy, tactics, determination, overcoming of challenges, the protests, the psyche, and the banter required to win a sailboat race, transfers directly to real life. More than once, we shared sailing risk with gut-level teamwork, together staring death in the eye, and we lived to tell about it. As Randy often said, “whatever you do, stay in control.”  These are words to live by.

I’m also proud of my Mother. As Randy’s health crumbled, Mom had the wisdom to see through the façade and the courage to downsize immediately, with grit and determination matching Randy’s note for note.  And she stood by Randy until the hearse rolled up to take him where he donated his body to science, seeing him off on his final journey with his dignity intact.

And finally, I’m lucky for the example my father set in his commitments to his family over a lifetime, right up until the final hours. Randy Richmond was a good man, a family man, someone you could confide in and depend on. It’s in my DNA to follow his example, preserving a marriage and a family for 23 years so far. These family values are part of the unspoken language we shared. And so it is still.

And so, we are here to remember Randy Richmond, the soul of a man that touched each of your hearts in an important and meaningful way. Let us remember him and celebrate his life together today. For dying is part of living, the unbroken circle, as sunset foreshadows tomorrow’s sunrise, and a ripple of water rolls across the ocean and back again.

James E. Richmond
August 3, 2013