A Father’s Tribute to His Son: In Memory of Tyler Micah Eckel

“That’s great, Dad.” These words Tyler said to me every time I told him of an article being published, a student’s life impacted, a new approach to teaching used, a new video series launched, or an accomplishment of any kind achieved. “That’s great, Dad.”

Tyler and I had a wonderful relationship from his childhood through adulthood. I was a coach on his baseball team for three years. Later, for fun, we would spend Sunday afternoons in the summer going to a local park where I would pitch, and he would hit. We listened to his music, by so doing he augmented my cultural awareness. We watched movies and visited historic sites, sledded in the winter, and hunted in the fall. I took him on speaking trips. We discussed theology and philosophy, literature and poetry from his earliest years. I marveled at his brilliance, watching him teach a college class about Frankenstein when he was 17. We talked about him becoming a college professor like me.

He and I cherished our friendship, a son and father who loved and cared for each other. Tyler lived with Robin and I for ten years, then we purchased a small house for him here in Defiance where he was close to his sister and brother, Chelsea and Sam. Over two decades our conversations were consistent and long. We would talk for hours. We shared our writing with each other. We shared poetry, stories, experiences, and recipes. Our shared love of food – specifically ribs – made us both smile. He would say, “Who needs Applebee’s when I have Eckelbee’s.” He also taught me how to smoke a pipe. And I was always amazed that he could keep one bowl going for half an hour, mine petering out after 10 minutes.

But it was our shared reverence for words that united our spirits. We both believed that words were sacrosanct, that words had power and could bring life. We were encouragers, not only of each other but on behalf of others. We shared the value of loving people while we may have disagreed with their ideas. We made a point of separating the two. “Dad, you should read (fill in the blank) and we’ll discuss it” was a normal undertaking. He suggested, I read, we discussed. Agreement was not essential, respect was. Our respect for words was born of our respect of others. The premise for our others-centered approach was our oft repeated, “Show your love for God by loving your neighbor.” We believed our neighbor was anyone we met or anyone we read.

Tyler deeply appreciated that he had a father who would read Charles Bukowski. It is not necessary that you know who Bukowski is, it is important for you to know that Bukowski had something of his own annex in Tyler’s library. I would often receive the author’s books as gifts, always with a note about where I should start reading. Both Tyler and Chelsea introduced me to poetry, dragging me kicking and screaming into the pantheon of poets. I would buy the poetry, Tyler and Chelsea would tell me what to read. To this day, their shared love of poetry has become my own. Tyler even had two journal articles published with me, his name next to mine. But his verbal fingerprints were all over everything I wrote. And they will continue to be.

Even this tribute to my son is marked by his influence. Czeslaw Milosz became one of my favorite poets following in the footsteps of my children. There is a line from his 1980 acceptance speech of the Nobel Prize for literature that I have often quoted, “Those who are alive receive a mandate from those who are gone.” And so, I will rededicate my days to fulfilling that promise on behalf of Tyler. The impact of his life – the hard and the easy, the ill and the good – will continue to mark my speaking, teaching, writing, and creating. With Tyler in the background of my thoughts I will continue to write, believing every word written is a strike against the devil. I will continue to teach, bringing light, battling the darkness of the principalities and powers in any venue. I will continue to speak, building justice upon the righteousness of Heaven, the only way to bring peace on earth. And I will continue to create, believing that all people are made in God’s image and therefore creativity is an expression of God’s work in the world.

And Tyler would smile and say, “That’s great, Dad.” And I smile now and say, “Look, son, how many people’s lives you have impacted for the good, people who have driven and flown from around the country to honor your life.” To which I say, “That’s great, Son.”

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