Ain’t Afraid of Dying

The following is the text of a Tribute I gave at Dad’s funeral. We buried him today in Millville cemetary.

~Mark Twain~
The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.

Valdon Paul Jessop was born March 2, 1940 to Alta and Elmo Jessop. He was the third of four children and spent many of his younger years attempting to prove to his father that he was his older brother’s equal. He was born in Millville, spent his youth in Cache Valley Utah attending South Cache High School and later graduating from Utah State University in Accounting. He served an LDS mission to the New England States Mission spending most of his mission time in Canada.

In his early years as a young man he had a fondness for fast motorcycles and pretty women. Upon meeting Yula, he found out that fast motorcycles and pretty women were sometimes mutually exclusive. She made him give up his “murdercycle” as she called it, but the trade was well worth it. Mom seemed to know at an early stage in their relationship that he would need some prompting to remember his anniversary and on Valentines Day of 1963 Dad married Yula Johnson in the Logan LDS temple. I was born at the end of 1964 and was the first of their eight children. We children arrived at the Val and Yula Jessop household over a span of sixteen years – the last arrival being our sweet little sister Cherise.

Upon graduation, Mom, Dad, Darrin and I moved to Northern California in the Bay area where we lived for about a decade. Dad started out working for Lockheed in San Jose. His career eventually took him around the world as a traveling auditor with assignments in France, Belgium, Canada, and Mexico. With six children in tow, Mom and Dad decided that Dad’s traveling internationally for 2-3 weeks at a time was overly stressful on Mom and the family. After many interviews and job offers in a variety of places throughout the U.S., Dad and Mom decided to move to the Southeast – First to North Carolina, then South Carolina and finally settling in Tennessee. Our move to the Southeast was not love at first site. It was hard understanding the culture and the foreign language commonly called a “Southern Drawl” But once we settled in, we certainly did fall in love with the South. Not all of us still live there, but we all feel at home there.

My Dad was an amazing man. Those that truly knew him well, understood him to be honest, forthright, and warm with an easy infectious smile and a big heart. He was kind and generous often to a fault. He had a quirky sense of humor that baffled some and made the rest of us smile. Sometimes we laughed at him, most of the time we laughed with him as we tried to view the world through his lenses.

He was a sucker for his daughters and his grandkids’ pleas for attention. He spoiled them rotten and loved giving them candy and treats, but mostly he spoiled them by lavishing love and attention on them. He was never shy about telling us that he loved us. He taught us how to have loving relationships with our spouses and children by his good example. He loved all of us with such joy and pride that his face lit up every time we were together. When you were with Dad, you felt that he was genuinely honored to be with you. The smile lines around his eyes are deep and well deserved. Even at rest, you can tell that a happy soul lies within.

There was never a time that I could not talk to him or that he would not offer advice. For many of his kids Dad was the “Voice of Reason” His sage advice was born of experience and often mistakes. He was not a perfect man but learned well from his missteps. He was always ready with a listening ear and he consistently offered sensible words of advice to whatever our current situation was.

He was competitive by nature and loved playing tennis. He taught us boys tennis at an early age so that he would have some built-in partners. Many of my fondest memories were spent on the tennis courts with Dad. Most of our tennis outings occurred in the early morning or late evenings. In the Tennessee afternoon summer heat, Dad’s sweating was the stuff of legend. You’d swear it had rained on his side of the court because the drops of sweat were so large and numerous. Osteoarthritis wore his knees down and prevented him from playing much tennis in his last decade and a half of life. He has said numerous times that he hopes they have tennis in heaven.

He was a deeply religious man and spent thousands of hours and thousands of dollars donating both time and money as he served in his church. He served in a variety of leadership positions at church but I think he was happiest just being a teacher in Sunday School. His insights into gospel subjects touched the lives of many. He had a unique ability to engage the student of the scriptures while still offering down-to-earth examples of how to better our lives through following Christ. He was immensely unselfish and never thought it a bother to help others in need. He was a doer not merely a believer of the Word of Christ.

Including just last week, I used to call my Dad weekly as I made my way home on my evening commute from Salt Lake City to Orem. We would usually talk for 30-60 minutes depending on the traffic situation. We would often chat about politics, sports (mostly tennis), kids, family, church. He is a great man and has always been a great sounding board for me. As I’ve lived my life, I have often benchmarked my life by his life. I often think back to what my Dad was doing at my age, what his career, marriage, and relationships were like at whatever age I am at. I am fortunate to be the oldest of eight kids. I have had more years to spend with my Dad than many of my siblings. I know that many of them rely on Dad for good solid advice. He was a great friend to all of us and a great source of good counsel. I last spoke to Dad on the way to St. George last Friday as I traveled to the marathon that I ran on Saturday. Little did I know that it would be the last time I would speak to him on this earth. It still seems like he should be just a phone call away.

Some of you may not have known my father the way that I did, but for those who did not missed out on knowing a great man. A man that made sure that his family was taken care of even if it meant he had to sacrifice something important to him. A man that literally dedicated his life to helping his family have an even better life than he had.

Dad was promised in his patriarchal blessing that he would have “Joy beyond measure” in his family relationships. I can attest that this has come true. We so love him and will miss him greatly. We all have a great ache in our hearts because he is no longer with us on earth. May God continue to bless him in the afterlife as he blessed him in this life.