• Cliff Garrett (Boyfriend)
• Cheryl Helgestad (Mom)
• Marshall Gilbert (Dad)
  (2/27/1954 - 3/12/2005)
• Jennifer Bridges (Sister)
• Jade Helgestad (Sister)
• John Helgestad (Stepdad)
  (8/18/1961 - 5/5/2002)
• Chris Nagy (Friend)
• Kelly Ward (Friend)

My daddy left behind many friends and family who miss him very much: his 2 daughters (Jennifer and me), his fiancee (Janice), his mother and stepfather (Jenny and Ed), his grandchildren (Austin, Cassie, and Serenity - Jennifer's children), his brother and sister (Steve and Cindy), and many other family members and friends who were touched by knowing him.

The last important thing I could do for him was read a eulogy I prepared at his memorial service. It was the most difficult thing I've ever had to write. How could I detail the life of this most special man in so few words? Knowing I would never be able to say all that was in my heart, I simply said goodbye. Usually, I have a fear of public speaking, and although I was afraid of breaking down tearfully in front of all who gathered at his memorial, it was such a natural process when I got up there to read it. It was for my daddy, and I just had a conversation with him. I couldn't help that all those other people were eavesdropping, nor did I care if they heard my message to him about how much I loved him. Here is the eulogy I read for him on March 15, 2005:

Someone told me when my heart broke, "I'm sorry about your father." But Marshall Gilbert isn't "father" to me. He's my daddy. He's the man I call first in crisis or triumph. He's the one who calls me every week to make me laugh at his random outbursts, remind me to watch his favorite show, or make a recommendation on yet another B-movie. We would argue about topics from sports and movies to politics. Inevitably, we had to agree to disagree. I'm really going to miss those conversations or receiving his standard message on my voice mail: "Stephanie, this is your dad calling. I'll call you back later."

I miss you, Daddy. And selfishly, I keep thinking of all the things I'll never have since you're gone. When I get married, my daddy will be watching from a distance instead of walking me down the aisle. When I have his grandchildren, he'll be smiling down from heaven instead of bouncing them on his knee. But I guess God needs him more.

He knew how hard Dad worked on this earth, and He called him home to rest. And over these last few days, I'm sure we've all remembered my dad with sad laughter and painful tears. He always had a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice. He could joke about anything, and he would help loved ones in any way he could. He was a man with little complaint, especially about himself. He would never have made a big fuss about himself and would wonder why we are. And he is a man we will all miss because of these great qualities.

By looking at this room, it's obvious my daddy impacted a lot of people. None of us could have expected this, and most of us are still shocked. He always planned to live to 100, so half his life still lay ahead of him. But here we are, remembering the man we loved and regretting not having one more day to share with him.

Daddy called me Friday night and left a message when I didn't hear the phone. I thought I could call him Saturday or Sunday and deleted the message. I would give anything to have that moment back, to have called him immediately just to tell him I love him. I'm so sorry that I thought my life was too important to remember what's really important. I have no doubts how much my daddy loves me. I hope he knows how much I will always love him.


The songs we chose to play for Dad's memorial service are as follows: