From Brice Green-

"It is surreal to think he's gone. Even in his advanced years, Dad was full of life. He had so many diverse interests and talents. He enjoyed investing in the stock market, researching companies and keeping up with their latest innovations. Because of his investing research, Dad was always well versed in the latest technology from companies like Apple and Tesla, and he was always eager to try out the latest and the greatest. He joined a photography club and came to especially like photographing birds. Dad also enjoyed gardening. When I was 3 or 4, we had a house on some land in Claremore. I have fond memories of picking containers full of wild blackberries and eating them with sugar on top. Dad planted a huge garden on this property, and he also experimented with raising farm animals, including pigs, chickens, goats and horses. Dad was also an avid writer. I can remember going on vacations with him, and he would take the time to write at night before bed, purely for his own enjoyment. In 1984 he co-authored and published a book, "Forensic Psychology". More recently, he wrote articles for newsletters for the OKC Boat Club and the Oklahoma County Master Gardeners and published them with Ginny’s help and technical savvy. Dad also enjoyed writing poems. He wrote a poem for each of my children, Jackson and Anabella, when they were born, something we cherish today. And anyone who knew my father, knew that one of his lifelong passions was sailing, something I grew to love because of him. When I was a kid, I didn’t like sailing with him because we always managed to capsize the boat. It was scary at the time. But in my early adulthood, I began to miss sailing with Dad, and I realized how much I enjoyed spending the time with him doing something he loved. I have many fond memories of being with him out on the water. He always seemed happiest when he was sailing. In 2013, Dad and I took a weeklong bareboat charter certification course, and we got to spend a week together on a 44 foot sailboat in Southern Florida. The week we did it, there were fierce storms, gale force winds, and so much lightning it was a miracle we didn’t get struck. Even in those harrowing conditions, Dad seemed calm and in control. One night, after the storms abated, and we had anchored in a beautiful cove off Miami Bay, Dad and I sat on the cabin of the boat, watched the sunset and talked. Soon the rain came pouring down again, but we didn’t care, if was a wonderful father-son bonding moment.

 

Once I had children, Dad became Grandpa Green, a new role in his life that defined him, and Jackson and Anabella cherished spending time with him. Since he didn’t live nearby, he scheduled an hour every week to spend with them on FaceTime, and he spent this time with them every week for years. It was beautiful to see. He would prepare for these calls, sending them pictures and stories in advance to give them something to talk about and hold their interest. He covered everything from cars to animals to reading stories with them. Once he even put on a puppet show over FaceTime, complete with puppets, varying voices, and a script that he used to teach them Spanish. Dad went to great lengths to be part of my kids’ lives, and in some ways I was jealous of the time they got to spend with him. Now that he is gone, I regret not being more involved in those weekly video calls he had with my children.

 

Though I didn’t take advantage of it enough, Dad was always there, ready to offer his loving advice. He had a unique ability to draw you into a meaningful conversation and make you feel special every time you spoke with him.

 

When Dad was 5 years old, his mother died during childbirth. Both his mother and the baby died. Dad had vivid memories of his father taking him and his brother to the hospital to check on his mother while she was in labor. It was raining out, and the boys stayed in the car while their father went in. Dad remembered watching the windshield wipers go back and forth in the rain as they waited. After some time, their father came out of the hospital, got in the car and said simply, “your mother has died”. He would tell me how much he appreciated the fact that his father worked hard to do his best to raise him and his brother as a single parent. I was always proud of my father and all that he accomplished, even putting himself through college to the point of earning his Ph.D., despite his traumatic childhood.

 

As hard as it is to come to grips with him being gone, it is comforting to know he had a good quality of life right to the end; he didn't suffer. Ginny managed to take good care of him and enable him to enjoy their life together right to the end. For that, I’m grateful. Throughout his life, Dad worked hard and played hard. I feel like he experienced the truthfulness of the words expressed by the wise man Solomon who said, “So I recommended rejoicing, because there is nothing better for man under the sun than to eat and drink and rejoice; this should accompany him as he works hard during the days of his life, which the true God gives him under the sun.” – Ecclesiastes 8:15. Dad was not a religious man, but I know he rejoiced in life, he worked hard, and he enjoyed the fruits of his labor.

 

I have shed many tears since Dad passed away, and will no doubt shed many more. I miss him greatly, and I am plagued by the fact I didn’t put forth greater effort to spend as much time as I could with him while he was still alive. It’s hard to come to grips with not being able to just pick up the phone and call him whenever I want. At times like these, I anxiously look forward to the fulfillment of one of my favorite scriptures, Revelation 21:4 which says, “And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.” This promise reassures me, that one day soon, no one will have to endure the pain and sorrow of losing a parent in death ever again.

 

I am thankful for the lifetime of memories that I have of my father, and I hope to keep his memory alive by sharing these memories with family and friends."

 

Love,

Brice Green