Mourning My Father, Richard B. Copeland

 

My father, Richard Bruce Copeland, departed this earthly life this morning. He was born on March 18, 1932, to Lawrence French and Blanche Vivian Copeland, on a farm in Posey County, Indiana. His mother died when he was four. He and his siblings were not given the opportunity to say goodbye. 

My grandfather was taciturn as a father and essentially ignored his children. He and his siblings, Amos and Virginia, were raised by their Aunt Mary, a strong woman who was blind from the age of 16. She was never a victim.

The farm had no electricity or indoor plumbing. They couldn’t afford a tractor until the 1940s. Dad was determined to get an education and leave southern Indiana. He saved every penny he earned from selling the piglet he was given for his farm work. 

At times he lived in the barn and worked in a warehouse during summers through his years  at Indiana State Teachers College. He was a founding member of ISU’s Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity. He combined work study to earn his degree. 

My dad believed until his last breath that the happiest day of his life was marrying our mother, Eileen Conroy. He could not believe such a woman could love what he described as a “dirty little farm boy”. 

Dad always felt grateful for the middle class life he achieved in Logansport, Indiana as an elementary school teacher, a member of his church, a contributor to his community, a father, a husband, a friend, a mentor, a Cass County historian, a radio personality, a world traveler, a music lover, a man who loved books, an observer, a storyteller and a man who embraced life to the fullest.

Saying Goodbye to Loved Ones

 

This past Saturday we celebrated the life of my mother-in-law, Janice Ann Harrington, pictured left with my father-in-law,  Norm Harrington, partners for 66 years. 

This was a difficult journey for many reasons. Since the end of March 2024, we experienced the loss of Norm and my Aunt Virginia Butler, my dad’s younger sister. Jan had been suffering with Lewy Body dementia, an insidious disease that robbed her of her memories and physical strength. 

My heart was filled with sorrow for my husband, his extended family and myself. 

I could not have specially ordered better in-laws. I felt nauseous from the moment we began our trip in Virginia, resisting the inevitable loss of the keys figures in our lives. 

After my Jan’s moving service where we shared memories, the family gathered at my sister-in-law’s to share hugs, intentions to stay connected, and bittersweet stories. Then a few of us went out to Wolf Creek Golf Course to see a plaque posted on the 16th hole to honor Norm for his work as a groundskeeper. 

Racing golf carts to the site brought back wonderful memories of the times we’d spent together at Wolf Creek. This brought a sliver of joy to an otherwise melancholy day.