Eradio Valverde, Jr., and my dad, Eradio M. Valverde.
Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. (John 14:6)
Yesterday at about 8 a.m., my father, Eradio M. Valverde, entered into eternal rest, trusting in his Lord and Savior. He had suffered much these past few months and now rests in Jesus' embrace.
I looked up to my dad and saw him in many ways as a giant, in faith, in his hard work, his love for us as a family, as a spoiling grandfather to our daughters and loved seeing his great-grandchildren. His life story is incredible and I shorten it to say that he was a blessing to many, especially to me.
My dad was born in Mission, Texas, lived in Rio Grande City, where he started school, later moved to Kingsville as my grandfather took a job with Missouri-Pacific Railroad. He loved to play, ultimately dropping out of school to work. He used that as a life lesson that he pressed on us for us to stay in school and finish college. All five of us did. We didn't have a choice. He made a way and so we all have at least our bachelor degrees, some of us post-graduate degrees.
His church life started when his oldest sister, Sylvia, began attending MYF. Her girlfriends from the church would pick her up and so my dad decided he needed to become a churchgoer as well. But, he married a Catholic woman, who was his grandmother's nurse as she lay dying in the Kingsville hospital. My mother fell in love with him and left him about 14 years ago when she died; it was at that point he was ready to go as well. My dad was very active in the local church and district levels of the old Rio Grande Conference, working lay witness missions in many areas, and in 1991, he was one of ten men that I selected to go with me to start the Walk to Emmaus retreats in Puerto Rico. It is a memory I will never forget. Just at this past General Conference, the current bishop and incoming bishop of Puerto Rico both remember him and said they would be keeping him in their prayers. Both gentlemen were on that walk with my dad and myself.
The photograph of my dad that I treasure most is one of him ironing my graduation robe from Lon Morris College. It was an image of my dad that summed up his life. He always gave and always shared. I had never seen my dad iron before, and thought it might be against his religion to do such things, but there he was, proudly ironing his oldest son's robe. It still makes me weep as I think of that moment and that picture. Another is one of he talking to our firstborn and she eagerly trying to respond to him. I treasure all of the photos of him with my girls, usually at Easter, they in their new dresses and he and my mom beaming proudly to be with them. It was after one visit in 1995 to an Easter weekend that he suffered his first stroke that left him paralyzed on his left side. That slowed down a very active, very strong man. He had been one to go and visit patients from my churches that were at M.D. Anderson Hospital, listening and praying with each, blessing them in the name of the Lord.
Right before I left for General Conference in Portland, which was a difficult decision to make, he said, "Don't be afraid. You're going to meet a lot of people, and they're going to like you." He understood the work that I do, and the importance of it. This past Sunday as I knew he was perhaps on his last breaths I knew he would want me to preside and preach at our district conference. My plans were to complete the conference and drive immediately to Houston, but that dreaded summer cold that I'm fighting kept me from doing that. It was the next morning that I got a call from one of my daughters who had gotten a text from my sister that let them know he was gone. I had missed the call from my brother that shared with me the news.
I love and miss my Dad. I laugh when I think of his humor and how he blessed me with the same. I laugh when I think of my daughters and how they all have that same sense of humor. I pity Nellie having to be surrounded by her husband and daughters, and now grandchildren who share my dad's great sense of humor. That humor helped him cross difficult racial lines, making lifelong friends who at first told him they would never be friends because of racial differences. Few people did not like him, because he was genuine and sincere. He was a tough dad, teaching us what we needed to learn, but loving us all the time.
Jesus said that He was the way, the truth, and the life, and my dad knew that way, shared it with us. My dad learned the truth of God's love and shared it with us. And my dad came to life in Jesus, and he shared it with us, and now enjoying that life that will never end, life eternal.
Dad, please rest in peace. Un dia nos veremos otra vez - y ese día no tendrá fin.
