Daddy's Goodbye to Daniel

My dad had the courage to speak at Daniel's funeral. It was extremely moving and we were all amazed at his strength. Here are notes on what he said:

Daniel’s Eulogy

A friend told me recently that whenever he thought of Daniel Sprott, he just could not help but smile. We hope each of you know or learn of stories of Daniel’s wit, wisdom, escapades and antics, for they reflect a joy of life that gave each of us in his family great strength and solace. His message to us all: Never judge anyone by appearance—look in their heart, instead. "You cannot tell a book by its cover," I’ve heard him say.

When Daniel was six months old, he was hospitalized in Little Rock and his health was declining daily. A doctor told me to prepare for Daniel to die. Well, Daniel fooled him by 29 years! But I am no more ready than I was that very day!

In 1990 or so, when Daniel was an early teenager, he told me he wanted to enter the Five K race at the Crawdad Days Festival we have here in Harrison, in his wheel chair. So he and I signed up, the ONLY wheel chair entrant. We started the race at North Arkansas College, went on to Pioneer Drive, then on to Business 412. I pushed him to the top of Harrison Hill, and off he went, just Daniel and his chair, about 25 miles per hour winding down the Hill. I didn’t catch back up with him until we were in Goblin Stadium, rounding the track to cross the finish line in front of the stands, where they were playing "Chariots of Fire" on a boom box. I really think Daniel wanted to do this just to have a legitimate opportunity to ride his chair down Harrison Hill.

Anyway, after the race I overheard two runners talking. "How did you do," asked one of them. The other said "Well, I thought I was doing pretty well until some kid in a wheelchair came zooming by me like I was standing still!"

Daniel zoomed right past a lot of us, didn’t he?

But on Thursday morning, I looked at Daniel’s lifeless body lying in his bed in our home, and knew that Daniel was gone. I did not want him to be gone. There were things unsaid. There was no "Good bye."

In the hours that followed my acceptance of Daniel’s passing, my mind returned to our many trips together: to the ranch, to St. Louis ballgames and museums, to NASCAR races at Bristol, Kansas City and Talledega, to San Francisco, Atlanta and Washington, to airshows all over the country, and to work together nearly every morning. He and I had plans for many more trips together, and there were so many things I wanted to give him to make his life a little better, a little more joyful. I wanted to make his life the very best it could be.

But I can do no more, for he is gone. I did not want him to be gone. Yet, I know he is now with a Father who can accomplish more than me. That Father has given Daniel a perfect body, a heavenly body he will enjoy for eternity. Think of it! Daniel can RUN in Heaven! He is perfect, and all who see him there see perfection, no flaws and no pain. Thanks be to a God who can finally fulfill the dreams of this earthly father, and make Daniel’s life the very best it can be. This is the hope our family has, the assurance we pray each of you hold in your families, too.

So, Daniel, we did not want you to be gone. But we commend your spirit to the Heavenly Father who can do all those things this earthly one wanted for you, but could not complete. When we think of you, Daniel, and your joy of life, we just can’t help but smile. Thank you for the example you have left for us. And now, Daniel, we can finally tell you a fond, and loving, "good bye." Farewell, my son.