Robert Henri Teichert

How do you summarize the life of your hero in a five minute piece about his life of a Patriarch as a Father, Grandfather and his Church service? Answer is you can't. You can try, but you'll inevitably forget important things and regret it later. I pray I've remembered at least most of the important things.

Important things like how he would walk me to the door each morning as I was heading to school and say, "Make it a good day." Ironic, isn't it? That he knew we had control of whether we were miserable or happy. I think he left this life happy and in control. He knew it was a long weekend and people would need time to travel. He knew he wanted one last chance to see Grandma on his birthday, to eat ice cream cake one last time and kiss his sweetheart of 65 years goodbye. He made it a good day.

Important things like the chance a lot of his grandkids had to be sealed by their Grandpa. And the advice he always gave, long-winded or not it was good advice. Always applicable and always welcome. Temple service was incredibly important to him, as a temple worker, a sealer and as a senior-missionary with Grandma in the LDS Washington D.C. Temple. Even when he was struggling with dementia he wanted to be there, working for the Lord.

Things like his service in the Church. He served in the Stake High Council, as High Priest Group leader, temple worker, as a chorister, a dedicated Home Teacher, in the Sunday School Presidency and in Family History doing Spanish extraction. He welcomed every calling he had, important or not, and did it with the voracity that he tackled everything in life. Head on and hard. There was no reason to put off anything that could be done now. Not only was it done now, but it was done well. He was always one step ahead of the rest, being baptized at 7, ordained a deacon at 11, and called to serve in the Spanish American Mission at 18. He said he learned the Spanish language on his knees; we know he spent a lot of time there setting a great example to those who were watching.

He was generous, with his time, his money and his energy. I watched him single-handedly shovel his neighborhood whenever it snowed. He never missed opportunities to serve ward members and neighbors. He volunteered often to help family and friends with their troubles. He never let a visitor leave during garden season without a bag full of fresh vegetables. He regularly took loads of fresh produce to the Food Coalition. He taught by example to serve others in all he did.

Grandpa was good. It seemed effortless for him, but he tried every day. Once when he was young he pushed another boy. He vowed that day to never do it again, and he didn't. When Grandpa made up his mind, he stuck with it. He was the most disciplined person I've ever met. When he'd say he'd eat 6 peanuts, he never ate 7. He was controlled in his words and his emotions. He never spoke poorly of others and he never held grudges. When he committed to do something he would do it, no matter what.

Family was incredibly important to him. He loved his wife and always spoke with fondness of their relationship and their family. Whether it was his grandkids or great grandkids he made sure he let them know how proud he was of each of us. He showed that he loved us through words and actions. He and Grandma attended many concerts, recitals, sporting events and graduations.

He stepped into whatever role he was asked to fill. Whether it was disciplinarian or friend he always knew what to say and how to teach. He knew where he was needed, and I can't express my love and gratitude to him for the daddy-daughter dates, Father's blessings and fatherly advice that I could only get from him. He may have had 22 grandchildren and 22 great-grandchildren, but he had an individual and unique relationship with each one of us. He knew us. Every one. Each one of us can think back to conversations with Grandpa. They were never rushed, coached or difficult. They usually involved a long walk, a BYU game, a car or horse ride, or a bowl of ice cream. He listened, he cared and somehow his presence was usually enough to clear your mind.

So, a little tribute to my Grandpa, because he's my hero.

This is for my Grandpa. He's the best. I think of my Grandpa and I think of a warm, welcoming porch with chairs to sit and an enormous amount of patience to just listen. I know that he's already moved on to working hard in heaven. I know that there are mountains in heaven and he'll climb them, there are gardens in heaven and he'll have the best one, and when I join him in heaven one day he'll invite me to his house with the warm, welcoming front porch and listen to me talk over a heaping bowl of BYU Creamery's strawberry ice cream and offer me some black jelly beans (which I only ate for him, and they weren't ever as bad as I thought they were going to be), he'll offer me a word or two of wisdom and send me on my way with a grocery bag or two full of wonderful garden vegetables. He'll still be able to out run me, out hike me, out memorize me, out sing, and out speak me - just like he could do a few years ago.

I can't wait to have that Grandpa back.