Not many people in this day and age have the extraordinary opportunity to walk in their father’s footsteps. I was blessed to have that chance at an early age where I spent the summers of my youth with Jack and Frances in Melbourne. As difficult as those times were for me, I came to know the peace and calm of the two people who made my father the man we all came to know and love.
I got to know a side of Dad that I hadn’t seen in our day to day lives here in Madison. I was taught the lessons of life from many people, many who are here today, but namely from Jack and Frances. Some of those lessons didn’t stick, as most here can attest to. But through those priceless years spent in Melbourne, I would return with all the countless stories of Dad’s youth told to me by his mother. I met many of the people whom Dad knew, and as boring as that may have come across to a nine year old kid… now, in looking back, particularly today… those moments carry a far more profound significance.
One of those memories was listening to Grandma tell the story of when Dad was born. Jack was stationed in the Pacific during the war as was his brother Arbie. The news of Jack’s newborn son apparently didn’t reach Jack first. Word of Bruce’s birth actually reached Arbie first as he piloted a PT boat to get to Jack’s base in Guam (or New Guinea, not sure) to tell him that Bruce had just arrived. Jack didn’t see Bruce, for I believe, up to a year after his birth, and to listen to Frances tell the story of the first time Jack saw his son… wrapped in his blanket, and when Dad first looked up to see the face of his father, a beaming smile came across Bruce’s chubby little face, as if he already knew who he was without one word being spoken. That same smile all of us would come to know and love over the past 63 years.
I can only imagine how that one moment echoed in eternity when Dad saw his father again in Heaven three weeks ago.
I’m not going to lie to you. Losing my Dad has been absolutely horrible. I’m angry. I feel robbed of what all of us felt was entitled to a good man such as my father. But over the past 11 months, Dad’s constant reminder 
to all of us was that nothing but good would come of this. It’s so hard to see the meaning of his words at this time.
This bittersweet day reminds me of Dickens’ timeless excerpt; “It was the best of times… it was the worst of times.” But watching the life that grows inside my darling wife convinces me now more than ever, that Dad’s assurances were indeed right. Truly, the best of times. And now it’s up to us to decide what good will come of losing Dad. What will each of us do from this day on to make sure Dad’s words were not in vain.
There are two people whom I’d like to extend my deepest gratitude to. Geneva, I can’t thank you enough for all that you did for our father over the past eleven months. Your strength is, and will always be, Dad’s touchstone. You truly emboldened your vow of “through sickness and in health”, and I know I speak for everyone here today in that your courage and strength will be a testament for all of us to learn from and grow from.
To my mother… Mom, thank you for bringing Jimmy, Melissa and I the best Dad a kid could ever hope to have. Thank you for always reminding me that Dad’s love was unwavering and steady through the chaos of my youth. And thank you for keeping me grounded through the many years of Dad’s absence here in Madison.
In closing, I wish to tell all of you here today that Bruce Allen’s life and memory will never, never die in my heart. His grace, his compassion, his forgiving heart, that unforgettable warm smile he had, are just some of the traits that will be passed down to Sandy and I’s unborn child. They will know all about the wonderful man who was their Grandfather. The eternal flame of his life shall burn bright and true… his precious memory and all that he was, will never cease for as long as I live. Ironically enough, Dad and I’s last conversation on this Earth was telling him that Sandy was carrying his unborn grandchild. He was the first we told. And I conveyed to him how much I was looking forward to passing down all the wonderful Allen and Trumper momentos he’d given me through the years, and how much I looked forward to being a father… But honestly, in that conversation, I was privately hoping that some small part of me could just be half the man my father was for me.
God Bless you, Dad.
~Christopher Allen, April 26, 2008
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