Today we said goodbye to a husband, father, grandfather, friend and colleague.
I thought I knew a lot about Douglas Alan Skelton, but it turns out I am wrong. His family and close friends, of course, had more up-front, close and personal experiences with him. But at Frontier Airlines, at least we were blessed to spend our entire work week with him. Indeed, it was not enough.
Doug's three grown children eulogized him and did a fantastic job painting a picture, stroke by stroke, of just how great a father he was. As they spoke, I felt envious of what it was like growing up with a father like this, but also thinking I missed out, over the past 15 years or so, of not having more opportunities to see Doug in action on a personal level.
His adult kids spoke about Doug telling them each day to go out "and love on somebody." My dad never told me anything like this.
But it sounds just like my adoptive Daddy who said, "Love your neighbor as yourself." I've heard it said that, as believers, when we arrive in Heaven we will be asked two questions by God: 1) Did you love me? and 2) Did you love them?
Doug did both, so very well.
At moments today, the grief was palpable, as it should be.
But there were funny stories, too, about his love of disco music and one son "just wanting to go home" when Doug struck up long conversations with a grocery or gas station clerk. And his clear instruction to "get into a bit of trouble" to his kids when they were young. I would – and am – way too terrified to say something like this to my grown kids and granddaughters, but maybe fear didn’t lead in Doug’s life. And maybe he was on to something.
On a more serious note, one of his best friends told a story about Doug's non-judgment of him when he confessed something very burdensome to Doug -- something he'd never told another soul. And Doug stayed (which sounds just like him).
Though I had nothing on that grand a scale that I confessed to Doug (though I very well could have and perhaps he may have read between the lines), I confessed to him difficult things, epic Erin failures, running back to Customer Relations, tail between legs, feeling like a complete loser. But no one would ever know it by the way he treated me, and no one would ever hear it from his lips, not at work, anyway.
It surprised me to hear today that Doug questioned if he had been the man he should have been, although it shouldn't have. He was humble and, like I said in my previous tribute to him, he would not want his life played back on the big screen for all to see.
I have heard grief defined as "love with nowhere to go." Wow. This is so profound, honest and true. The love we all have for Doug is unique to only him. And he was, as I said on my way out of the funeral door today, "the real deal." Correction, he IS the real deal, for his life has really just begun.
I was grateful to see many people from Frontier at Doug's Celebration of Life, all of whom I haven't seen in 10 to 15 years. Working at Frontier brought (mostly) good memories and (mostly) good people who I cared for and respected. Because of Doug, Customer Relations was a great place to work, even while doing the most difficult of all jobs. We rarely dealt with happy passengers, but once in a while we were empowered to move on behalf of desperate customers in desperate situations. I am forever grateful for that.
While we are left with a void today, the love we had for Doug, the love with nowhere to go, will surely not be in vain. May it never be so!
I, for one, want to adopt the Doug-ism of "go and love on somebody" as soon as possible. Not only that, but I also want to live out his example of actually doing it. I want the love that so worked in him, from God to others, to be the love that defines my life.
May we all take a little extra time to ask questions and be present with complete strangers, to find out if our trash men like Gatorade and, if so, what their favorite flavor is, then stocking our fridges full of it for when they complete the thankless job of picking up our trash.
Doug left a legacy to all of us, even those who never knew him, for they can know him through those of us who did. It's up to us how that plays out and if we allow his love to truly have a home.