Dad's Eulogy

David Keith Heywood was born in Blythe, California to Kenneth and Lorraine Heywood on September 4^th, 1954. He loved his daddy; he knew the sound of his father’s car and would get excited when his daddy came home from work. Dad and his brother Bob loved to dress up in their boots, hats and vests and would go outside and play cowboys. He recently told me a story that Uncle Bob reminded me of about riding Thunder the horse. In Bob’s words:

“Most summers we went to Grandpa Heywood’s house in Panguitch, Utah to visit or spend the entire summer there. Grandpa used to graze one of his horses around the house to keep the tall grass down and when David and I were boys we would take turn riding him. We loved watching Grandpa or dad saddle him for us so we would have a saddle horn to hang onto. Grandpa or Dad would either lead us around the yard or ride with us to keep us safe. Well it didn’t take too many years before we fancied ourselves to be quite the cowboys and we decided to saddle Thunder ourselves. Thunder seemed to think it was okay, too, so we saddled him up and tightened the cinch as best we could. We thought we were ready for a ride around the high school track which was right next door. David was the oldest so he got to go first. Off he went at a nice easy walk, and everything was looking great until Dave kicked Thunder in the ribs to make him go a little faster. I’m sure everything was a blur for David after that as he got the intended reaction from Thunder and then some. Thunder broke into a dead run and when he did the saddle David was riding on flipped down between Thunder’s feet and David fell off rolling away from Thunder’s pounding hooves about half way down. Thunder walked over to the fence of Grandpa’s house and started munching on grass and it seemed like he was smirking just a little bit, while David laid face down in the dirt, eventually got up, and shook the dirt from his trousers. He learned a lot that day about smirking horses who hold their breath while they’re being cinched.”

Dad was a typical kid, involved in typical kid shenanigans. Again, in Bob’s words:

“We got new bows and arrows for Christmas one year and being safety minded as we were, thought the best place we could shoot them was down the street in the Richland School yard. After a while of shooting at targets, we could barely see because of the fog, so we decided it would be great fun to shoot the arrows straight up into the air where they would disappear, and then run for our lives. We thought that if we shot straight enough that the arrows would fall at approximately the same spot from which they were shot. This being our well thought out stratagem, we went on with our plan until we mysteriously lost all of the arrows. Thankfully no one was hurt.”

When Dad was 2 or 3 years old, he and his brother Bob were riding in the back seat of the old car. Those were back in the days when there were no seatbelts, and Dad and Bob were playing in the backseat when Dad opened the car door and went tumbling down onto the highway. Grandpa was able to stop the car immediately, scoop Dad up, and took him to the doctor where all they found were a few scratches. Grandma said the next morning, Dad was on his rocking horse, bouncing and laughing like nothing had happened.

Dad was someone who always had a good sense of humor, and was a bit eccentric. His sister Valerie gave this account:

“I was sitting at the piano practicing and David bursts through the front door, scaring me, and singing, 'they’re coming to take me away, haha, they’re coming to take me away haha hoho hehe, to the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time.' He was flapping his arms like a chicken and bounding all up and down the room. My initial fear turned to almost immediately to uncontrollable, tear filled laughter.”

A story from his brother Carl:

“My brother David was an awesome guy. I’ve idolized him all my life. Of all my memories of Dave, one in particular stands out in my mind. We had gone into Bakersfield and decided to stop for pizza. As we sat at the table I hoped he was buying because I didn’t have any money. The nice-looking waitress came over and David ordered two pepperoni pizzas. I thought, ‘Wow, he must be hungry!’ Before I could order she walked away and I thought, ‘this is gonna be a long lunch’ because all I had was a cup of water. Anyway, David whispered, ‘here, take this toothpick and put it into your straw,’ which I did, thinking we were going to have a spit wad fight. Then David pointed his straw at the waitress and said, ‘watch this!’ With a puff on the straw, off went the toothpick hitting the waitress in her lower extremity. Naturally the waitress jumped. I looked up at David in shock. He was looking down at the table, completely red, holding his hand over his mouth to stifle his unique, loud laugh. Then he looked up at me, still red in the face, and said, ‘your turn!’ and then he started to laugh out loud. A little later the pizzas came and David said, ‘here, this one is for you.’ My jaw dropped! I’d never had my own large pizza before! At that moment David went from an idol to a god! After that I remember scarfing down the pizza as quickly as I could, trying to keep pace with David.”

His son Tyler recalls:

“Dad always liked to sit in his chair, watch TV, and eat a snack; especially on Friday nights. One such night, when I was in high school, Dad had made himself a hamburger. The problem was that he was apparently very tired. He had fallen asleep with the hamburger still in his hand without a single bite taken out of it. In his other hand was the TV remote. I watched as dad, half asleep, took the remote (which I'm sure he thought was the hamburger) and put the end of it in his mouth. Upon realizing that the remote was indeed, NOT a hamburger, his eyes opened in a very brief surprise as he removed the remote from his mouth and then fell immediately back to sleep.

I then received instructions from my mother to take the hamburger, put it in a bag, and place it in the refrigerator. I did so with as much Indiana Jones stealth as I could. then I excused myself to my bedroom to get ready for bed. About a half an hour later I came out to get a drink from the kitchen, and on my way I found my Dad, still asleep, with the hamburger back in his hand and the bag left on the kitchen table. He had obviously woken up, realized something was missing, went and found it, then took it back and fell asleep, without ever taking a bite. He just really wanted to hold it I suppose.”

Of course, everyone knew of Dad’s love for music. Grandma and Grandpa said this love started even as a baby, saying that when he wasn’t even one-year-old, Dad would bang on the piano and dance. His sister, Becky, recounts, “when I was about 18 he took Carl and I on a work related trip to Sacramento. He had an 8 track tape player in the work van he was driving and one 8 track tape. We listened to Queen all the way there and back. That's where I learned the words to Bohememian Rhapsody and We Are the Champions. Like so many others, he influenced my love of all different genres of music.” Valerie remembers him “blaring his horn to Chuck Magioni’s ‘Primal Scream’ and trying to reach that triple high C like his idol. The windows would shake in the house,” she said. Dad eventually completed his Bachelor’s in Music and Master’s in Curriculum and Development, and taught music for 35 years, sharing his passion with his students and the community.

Dad was never secretive about his past, and considered himself a hippie. When he was in his early 20s, David joined a traveling jazz/fusion band where he played the trumpet and keys. This was a time when he explored and experienced lots of things, but he eventually made his way back home, and shortly after this time he started writing letters to his future wife, Christy. Dad and Mom wrote letters for a year, and were married on August 7^th, 1981, shortly after they met in person. This last year they celebrated their 35^th wedding anniversary. He adopted Heather and was sealed to both her and Mom in the Salt Lake temple. As it happens, Dad’s little sisters were a bit jealous of Mom and Heather at first. Valerie remembers, “he was very generous with his little sisters…I was so jealous when he got married and he had Heather to give all of his attention to, but I also knew Christy and Heather would be part of our forever family.” Heather was a little hesitant of Dad at first, but of course, he was able to win her over. In Heather’s words:

“My Dad's first real attempt at winning my heart came just a few days before he married my mom. I needed new dress shoes for the wedding and he said he'd take me shoe shopping. I was a little worried about that because I wasn't too sure about him yet. We got to the shoe store and I immediately fell in love with a beautiful pair of dress shoes that looked like they were made out of wood. They had a little 2 inch heel on them and I was convinced my love affair would never be realized because they were too grown up for a 6 year old. But lo and behold, Dad thought they were perfect and immediately purchased them for me. I thought for sure mom would march us back to the store and exchange them for a more age appropriate pair. But Dad was confident we could get them past mom, and instantly I knew he was someone I could tolerate for at least a little while until I could figure out a way to get rid of him. Seriously, though, he was one of the most accepting and welcoming people I knew. He never made me feel like I was someone else's kid. He was my Dad from day one.”

Dad’s love for Mom is also something that stands out. He was always writing songs for her, writing her poems, and sending her flowers “just-because.” Not a day went by that he didn’t tell her how much he loved her and how beautiful she was. I remember, every day, he would say us, “do you kids realize how beautiful your mom is?” We all remember their make out sessions (which Tyler would interrupt by hugging them while they were kissing), and the times dad would take mom and dance with her in the kitchen, cheek to cheek. His love for and devotion to his wife and his children was incredibly strong.

Dad was a good, supportive, and loving father. He cared deeply for his children, almost to a fault, and he wanted them to know of his love for them. Sarah remembers riding to school with dad, and told this story:

“I attended first and second grade at Belridge where Dad taught a couple of days out of the week. He drove me to and from school each day, even on the days when he was assigned to different schools. It was an hour drive round-trip, so we spent a lot of time driving together.

On one such ride out to school one day, we decided to pass the time by writing a song together. I was supposed to write one verse, Dad would write one verse, and we'd write the chorus together. And this is what we wrote (though, let's be honest, Dad coached my verse):

It's a kiss "hello," it's a kiss "hello"

Instead of a kiss "goodbye"

It's a kiss "hello," it's a kiss "hello"

Instead of a kiss "goodbye"

My daddy is a teacher

He goes to school with me

So we don't have to say "goodbye"

We say "hello," you see

We love to talk and talk and talk

While driving in the car

It's always fun to be with us

No matter where we are

It's a kiss "hello," it's a kiss "hello"

Instead of a kiss "goodbye"
It's a kiss "hello," it's a kiss "hello"
Instead of a kiss "goodbye"

On a different drive home one evening after a long day at the school, we climbed into the car and Dad looked at my half-closed eyes and said 'I'll bet you a kiss and a hug that you'll fall asleep before we get home.' Being stubborn and six, I said 'No I won't.' But of course I fell fast asleep. When we pulled into the driveway and I woke up and realized I had fallen asleep, I burst into tears. I had lost the bet. Dad said I had to pay up, even though I was crying, because a bet was a bet and you had to pay. So I gave him a tearful hug and kiss. He gave me a hug and kiss back, and then took me to get ice cream.”

Jana remembers the fun way dad would put us to bed. She recounts:

“The memory that I often think about, especially when I can't sleep, is when we were younger: the days where we pile on Mom and Dad's bed and read the latest chapter of Little House on the Prairie. 

After Mom read, Dad would tell us about a land in our dreams that was entirely made of candy (pretty typical of Dad, right?). We would each take a turn and describe our little place in this Candy Land, painting the most delicious picture possible. 

Whoever was next had to name the previous places and then describe there own. By the end of this, we would have a land with volcanoes that spewed hot fudge and baseball games where the ball exploded marshmallows and edible gardens that would make Willy Wonka jealous. As Dad closed the land, he always added the detail that we would all be there together, enjoying each other's company, eating to our hearts' content."

A little over a year ago when I decided to quit my full time job to travel and explore, dad told me how great he thought that was and said wished he could join me. He didn’t lecture me on how unsafe it would be to travel alone as a woman, he didn’t tell me it was foolish for me to leave a full time job with benefits, instead he hugged me, and told me he was proud of me. His love and support are part of what gave me the confidence to do a lot of the things I’ve been able to do.

Maybe you’ve noticed that pizza has been mentioned a few times? Dad loved food, and seemed to especially have a passion for pizza. David Jr, his son, shared these experiences:

“In reading through the stories people have shared about Dad, a lot of them have involved pizza. The first one is just a sort of vague recollection. Mom was gone, and there wasn't much in the house to put a meal together with, but such were the conditions under which Dad thrived, at least to the pleasure of his own palate. For the rest of us, Dad's experiments in the kitchen either turned out really great or really bad, with not much in between. But somehow, with no yeast, tomato paste, or about half of the other ingredients that are usually required to make a decent pizza, and to my pleasant surprise, Dad produced one of the most delicious home-made biscuit dough pizzas I've ever had.

On another occasion, Dad, Tyler, and I were driving back home from Las Vegas. We were at a car show or something like that, which was never really our cup of tea, but we had met up with some family there and had had a nice time. It was late, so we were pretty tired and quiet on that trip. When we were about halfway home, a commercial came on the radio for a local pizza place, but for some reason, the way they described the pizza just gave me a huge craving for some. I noticed Dad reach down for his phone, so I asked who he was calling, and he said that he was calling Mom. So I (jokingly) said "Hey, tell her to order some pizza for us." Of course, it was a silly request since it was about 10 at night and we were still 2 or 3 hours from home. Dad's reply: ‘Well why do you think I'm calling?’ When we got home, we had cold pizza waiting for us. It was delicious.”

Dad was also someone who gave his love freely, and was always willing to serve. He rooted for the underdog, took anyone into his home who needed help, and never spoke ill of anyway. Growing up, if any of us ever started gossiping, dad would stop us and defend the person we were bad-mouthing. He was a defender and a giver. His sister, Becky, described him perfectly by saying, “He was always someone I trusted as a confidant.  He was thoughtful and wise.  He wasn't judgmental. He was gentle.  He listened and then he talked.  I always appreciated how loved I felt after a conversation with him.  He was intelligent, well read, and had a beautiful and practical testimony of the Gospel.  He filled his life with service.” His sister Chrystal recounts:

“One of my first strong memories of my big brother, David, was having a date night with him when I was about 7 years old. He picked me up and drove me to his little white house just a few short blocks from our home on 2nd street. I felt like a queen just getting to spend time with him by myself. We made homemade pizza with tomatoes and onion. He teased and tickled me, asked questions about my life, we laughed and had a lot of fun. I saw a spider on the living room floor and asked him to kill it. To my amazment he said all living things are precious, and I watched in awe as he swept it up with a piece of paper and put it outside. That's the kind of big brother he was. I felt safe when he was around.”

His daughter Jana tells this story:

“One Christmas Eve, when Dad was branch president, I remember being fairly young and heard the phone ring. It was a call from the police department, informing him that there was a homeless man at the station who said he was LDS and needed assistance. Dad rolled out of bed, got dressed and headed to the station. A few hours later I heard him come back and he told Mom that it was clear that this man was not all there, in fact, he soiled himself as dad was taking him to the local hotel.  Mom got up and cleaned the car seat as Dad made final preparations for Christmas. I'll never forget their love and kindness for a complete stranger. Dad, I'm sure, took care of this man the best way he could, with a meal in his belly, a warm bed, and a few bucks in his pocket. Dad embodied the concept of the Good Samaritan, regardless of his church service, and was always giving, both his money and time, but moreover, his heart.”

That's the kind of man Dad was. His faith, strength, and love, always evoked love and admiration from others. That’s why he was such a good teacher, and why his students care so much for him, he truly loved all of them and was willing to let them lean on him for whatever they needed.”

Grandma Heywood, Dad’s mother, wanted me to share these words from her brother, Bob. “I know our Lord has made a place for David as He has for each of us. He knew his heart and character by the things he said, what he wrote, his music, his actions, the way he loved the kids he taught, and his work. He was a good man, son, brother, and I suppose our Heavenly Father has a work for him that is important, but when I consider eternity it seems to me it could have waited a few more years.” I think we all feel like this was sudden and that it was too early for Dad to go. It may take some time for us to fully heal from the loss of him, but I think the best thing we can do to honor him would be to love one another, think the best of everyone, be accepting, give of ourselves, do good in the world, sing and play music, eat good food, hug each other often, and laugh loudly. Thank you.