You may have known him simply as that funny, talkative guy
with glasses and a mustache that would sit down at your restaurant, walk
through your line at the grocery store, stop by your gas station to buy lottery
tickets, sit down for a haircut, share his pass on his way to Skyline Drive, or
show up at the hospital for chemo. Or
you may have known him as that man that approached you in the McDonough parking
lot with a wealth of knowledge, genuine enthusiasm about Toyotas, and instead
of pushing you to buy something instead asked you about your family and your
needs and led you in the right direction never once pretending to be a salesman
because that just wasn’t him.
However, I’m positive that once you met him your life was
changed and your interactions didn’t stop there. This nameless mustached man quickly became
Dennis, the man who would stop and ask you how your day was and get to know
your entire life story. Yes, he was the
one that remembered every detail from where you grew up to your dog’s name to
when you had a big test coming up. It
was easy to start calling him your favorite customer, your most beloved
patient, your kindest colleague and the best “non”-salesman ever.
In true Dennis fashion, he needed to take things a step
further just to make sure you knew that someone out there cared for you. That meant as soon as a holiday started to
approach he was on a mission to buy treats, cards, lottery tickets or anything
else that could make your day just a little bit brighter. And in some cases, his gifts had nothing to
do with a holiday. The park rangers
sitting in a booth checking passes each day certainly needed sweet treats
dropped off as he passed by to go on his adventures with Donna.
One memory in particular comes to mind when I felt like I
was watching “Oprah’s Greatest Things” live in a Staunton restaurant. We were getting ready to leave Mrs. Rowe’s
restaurant around Christmas time a couple of years ago, and Dennis was striking
up his usual conversation with our waitress but this day he slipped her a
jingle bell necklace and some lottery tickets right as we got up to leave. The
next thing I knew he was sneaking around the restaurant handing each waitress
her own jingle bell necklace and lottery tickets. It was one of those “everyone gets a necklace
and lotto ticket” moments. But unlike
Oprah there was no huge announcement, just a quick drop of the gift and right
out the restaurant doors. Typical of Dennis,
he did not want the fuss to be about him, but he sure wanted to make sure that
everyone else had something to lift their spirits.
So, while many of you thought that you had just happened
across a kind, funny, giving man in the beginning you realized sooner than
later that you were now part of Dennis’ family.
This meant that you could confide in him, ask for advice, and know that
he was always in your corner. Once you
became part of Dennis’ family then you also became part our family because he
would share wonderful stories each day of each of your lives. And soon, we were part of those conversations with
you at the restaurant, grocery store, jewelry store, and on the parkway; we
just weren’t nearly as entertaining as Dennis.
While you all knew him as Dennis, at home he was known as
Montie (a nickname from his parents), PaPa, PaPa Stokes, and Dad. It isn’t hard to imagine what an incredible
husband, brother, father, and grandfather he was after knowing how he treated
strangers who quickly became his friends.
There isn’t enough time in a day to share every funny story or happy
memory, but I will leave you with a few of my favorites.
Hailey and Emily loved PaPa’s little games and jokes like
when he showed them his famous trick of the “missing thumb” or playing the
“hand slap” game. He would often share
his magic tricks during dinner and they would spend the rest of the meal trying
to figure out how they worked, but they usually failed miserably when trying to
emulate them causing much laughter at our table. One thing that the girls could always count
on when they visited PaPa is that if they said “my piggy is hungry” he would
pull out his worn wallet and hand over a dollar or $5 or even $20 and tell them
to go feed their piggy bank when they got home.
True love was never more evident to me than watching my
parents as I grew up. There are not many
couples who truly do everything together like they did. Growing up this included vacations, yardwork,
fishing, hiking, going to movies, watching my soccer games, etc. When one of them was involved, so was the
other. After Mike and I were out of the
house, this connection grew even stronger.
Other than a few random errands run and Christmas shopping for each
other, they were inseparable. In the
last few years they spent much of their time enjoying lunch or dinner at
favorite restaurants, taking Holly and Gracie on “doggy rides”, going on drives
or hikes to look for and photograph wildlife, and spending time with
family. Dennis would do anything in the world
to make Donna happy and make her feel loved.
He would surprise her with beautiful jewelry and other gifts, but it was
the little things that we could all pick up on that really showed his
love. Just a few days ago, I had to help
my mom get fuel for her vehicle because over the last 45 years of marriage she
could count on one hand the number of times she filled up her vehicle on her
own. This wasn’t because she’s not
capable, it was because she didn’t have to.
It was just one of those little things that he did for her without
question. I will dearly miss hearing
their playful interactions when they would give each other a hard time or when my
mom would question something he was doing and he’d say, “Oh, come on babe.”
I am blessed to have 38 years of memories of my dad. He was the one that taught me there is a
right way and a wrong way to do things, that systems and order make things
easier, and that you have to work hard to get what you want from life. He is to blame and to thank for all of my
to-do lists, record keeping, researching, overpacking, and other type-A personality
traits he passed along. However, he is
also responsible for teaching me how to fish, how to chop wood, to love the
outdoors and animals, and to be empathetic and kind towards others.
As a little girl, I can remember racing him down the
driveway and only on occasion beating him, putting my feet up in his lap so he
could tickle them until I couldn’t stop laughing, hiding M&M’s in my hand
that he would sneak to me after dinner, holding on to his neck for dear life
when he would take me way out into the ocean and then send me to shore on my
boogie board, and having wrestling matches with him and Mike on the living room
floor.
Growing up he was the dad that showed up to every single
soccer game or school event without fail.
He drove our minivan to and from travel soccer games, often enduring the
anxiousness and laughter of Megan and I and my constant need for snacks. During the game, we could hear him cheering
us on, yelling at refs from time to time, and giving us a pep talk when
needed. We accumulated hundreds, dare I
say thousands, of soccer photographs that he took of the entire team and handed
out at the end of the season. Never once
do I remember a single complaint about how much of his free time was devoted to
something that I loved.
This past Christmas when I was running back to the store at
the last minute to buy “one more thing”, I couldn’t help but think that this
was because of his influence. Both of us
would have checked everything off of our lists for others, but then come up
with just one last thing or one more idea and feel the need to go back out and
get it. Even when he couldn’t get out
and do as much as he’d like during the last couple of years, he continued to
stop by our house and drop off doughnuts or pies or other delicious treats. To
say he spoiled us all is quite the understatement.
I am so thankful for the relationship that my dad and Jeff
had over the last three years. I’ve
never seen my dad as happy as he was on our wedding day and it warms my heart
to know that the greatest two men I’ve ever known loved and respected each
other so much. Knowing that Jeff is here
to take care of and protect my mom and I certainly gave my dad peace in those
final days.
I will miss that handshake that was strong enough to make
you wince, that high pitched laugh he would get when playing with the girls,
his “baby or doggy” voice used when talking to Holly and Gracie, watching him
squeeze and rub my mom’s shoulders just to comfort her, his excitement when
showing off a new gun and getting into his shooting stance, watching him circle
the parking lot to find the best and safest spot for his vehicle, listening to
him sing a Phil Collins song in the car, and the unexpected treats dropped off
at my house that would turn into an hour long conversation in the
driveway.
Although our hearts are broken and aching without him here,
they are also full and comforted by all of the memories that we shared. We won’t ever buy a lottery ticket, shoot a
gun, have a glass of sweet tea, throw out a fishing line, buy a gift, eat a
yummy dessert, sit down at a restaurant, check out of the grocery store, or go
for a drive on the parkway without smiling and remembering all that encompassed
Dennis’ incredible life.
