Philip Daniel Hays
Dad,
I love you, I thank you, and I miss you.
Words can't fully express the burden of your absence. Yes, I'll be okay, Dad, but the world is emptier.You were a great son, brother, husband, grandfather — and a truly great father.
Because of God's eternal promises in the Bible, and Christ's finished work on the cross, I know you are well. I look forward to our next meeting someday, and to our conversations again. I can only imagine they'll be full of laughter, learning, and the wisdom you always impart. By then, maybe I'll have some of your wisdom — and maybe I'll even be able to win a game of chess against you.
I didn't deserve the blessing of such a great father, yet you selflessly and continually gave me that loving gift for decades.
I hope I was a good son to you, and I hope to some degree I made you proud. Dad, I will always be proud to be your son.
You gave many gifts freely, especially within our family. The legacy of those gifts will endure. So, yes, we'll be okay, Dad, but it's devastating to lose your presence here.
We love you, we thank you, and we miss you.
An ongoing tribute from a grateful and devoted son,
Stephen
September 2025
"I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."
— John 16:33
"The last enemy that will be abolished is death."
— 1 Corinthians 15:26
Notes To My Father
December 2025
Dad,
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year in Heaven! I know time probably doesn't even exist outside of this realm, but I know you are well. You've "slipped the surly bonds of Earth" and I hope you're enjoying meeting up with those you cared about through your life who went before you.
I do wish I could tell you (though devastating and sad) how great your funeral was. Maybe "great" isn't the best way to put it. It was touching. The flag on your coffin, the military gun salute, the eulogy, and the obvious overwhelming love, care, and support your entire extended family had for you. I mean, I know you already knew that, but it clearly showed. All our tears were sort of the inverse of the good things you had done and who you were to us.
Ubi sunt. That's something I remember talking to you about, and I think about it a lot now. It's Latin for "where are they?" and one interpretation of it refers to the earthly finality of death. People who have passed are...just gone. Where are you, Dad? I know you're in Heaven, but from our earthly perspective, you're no longer here. I've never grieved over anyone's death until yours. As I stated in my permanent tribute message to you, I'll be okay, partially because of what a great father you were. But it's a rough experience to lose a parent, especially when you were close. You had to lose your parents. I guess most people do.
I visited your grave this week. I don't know how often I'll go, but I needed to at least once. It's a beautiful and serene cemetery, Dad! Really nice. Did you ever visit Grandma and Grandpa's graves? I don't know if you did after their funerals, and I guess in some ways there's no need? It's painful and weird all at the same time. I wish I knew how to respond.
I've thought about some significant changes to my life, and I pretty much know your opinion on them. Sometimes when I would disagree with you, you chided me, "I wish you would listen to me like you used to when you were a kid." Then I responded, "Dad, I almost *always* listen to what you say and pretty much agree with almost *everything* you say." And I did, because you were usually correct. Anyway, I think when someone you care about passes, like a parent, it causes you to take a census on your life. Not even necesssarily in a bad way, really, but just deep reflection. We'll see how things unfold. I wish you could be here to argue with me about it, and I mean that in the best way. "Forceful debate" is maybe the better way to put it.
I plan to write you on your site at least once a year, perhaps more. This site will exist as long as I have the ability to keep it going as a memorial and tribute to you. I don't want to put you up on a pedestal (and you certainly wouldn't want that), but you were an absolutely great father for decades. My blessings and successes in life are in many ways directly related to that. I'll never forget that.
Mom is okay, and my brothers are okay. We'll be okay, but it's rough. Your grandkids are doing great, by the way!
We will talk soon, Dad. Love you and miss you, always.
From a grateful and devoted son,
Stephen
December 2025