There has been a lot to think about these past few days. A lot of things have been said. Plenty of tears have hung from heavy eyes. Today, however, we are not here to answer the whys, hows, and what fors. This gathering is a celebration of life. The life of one of the finest men this world has ever produced: a man of true honor. Let us not allow the memory of Thomas Joseph Manatt, our beloved husband, father, brother, and friend to slip between the spaces of our finger’s grasp, but let us hold him in our palms and in our hearts so that he might live on in spirit.

My dad was not just one of the biggest men I have known, but the greatest. His reputation as an honest and hardworking businessman is known second only to his reputation as a cherished relative and friend. He had an amazing heart, the heart of a giant, and everyone gathered here today has a space reserved inside his heart. When there was hatred, his voice soothed the anger. When others despaired, he gave them hope. When everything seemed dark, he was a shining light in our lives. When we were sad, he brought joy and laughter into our homes.

He loved the fall when he could be out on weekends hunting Pheasant, Ducks, Geese, Deer, and anything for which he could get a license. Dad loved being outdoors in general, even if it was just to be out in the fresh air. He loved football. He loved the smell of it, the sounds of the pads crashing together and the roar of the crowd as the Cyclones ran into the Jake, victorious again. Dad also loved his wife, and Mom was endlessly devoted to him. They stuck it out in an era where divorces are all too common. They kept each other’s spirits high, even when times got bad, and the encouragement was never one-sided, but always mutual between them. When things got rough for Dad at work, Mom was always there to cheer him up and when Mom’s spirits were down, Dad always knew the best way to lift them.

Dad stayed true to his blue-collar roots right to the end. Recently, he told me that he would, “rather go back to digging ditches than have to wear a suit and tie to work everyday.” He loved his job and the people with whom he worked. He put a lot of extra time and effort in to turning out a quality product in honor of the family name.

There is a lot to reminisce about when we think of any loved one lost, but when I think of my dad, it will always come back to his love for children. He was a lot like his own father in that respect. Something about the way he played with the neighbor kids never ceased to make me smile. He loved to joke and play and to teach them all the things he knew about the great big world in front of them. He knew that in those bright, sparkly eyes laid an innocent happiness that was not to be spoiled, and he loved them for it. In children he saw himself, still a young adventurer, out with his brothers and friends, scheming and stirring up trouble.

I know that I would have taken my dad’s place a million times. I think anyone would, but the truth is that he always put others before himself and he would never have had it any other way. Everyone here today will have their own way to remember my father, but I will always be reminded of him by the sounds of all things wild, from the bugle of a great elk to the sweet song of cardinals in my back yard. Although we come together during a time where it seems like there is no rhyme or reason to this tragedy and we might even be angry at the sun for shining, we must not forget that, “to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)