May 1942 – 1 September 2013
7-year-old son Caleb generally keeps his own counsel when it comes to matters
of the heart. But his beloved Grandpa Boyce’s passing has been especially tough
on him. A few nights ago, Caleb said his
bedtime prayer, sincerely requesting that Grandpa have a “nice time” at his own
funeral. He then paused and said to me
in a quiet voice, “Mom, Grandpa’s stuck in my head.”
too, buddy,” I replied, “Mine too.”
completely understood what he was saying, because Bob Boyce stuck in so many of
our heads – and in our hearts. So the
task of writing his eulogy was daunting. How could I even begin to encapsulate his life
in a few minutes? As luck would have it,
Dad was a prolific writer and had already done a lot of it. So I will share many of his own words, some of my memories, and tributes of him that have come pouring in since
is often the case, Dad was greatly influenced by his parents’ examples. Here’s how he described his mom:
She was highly intelligent
but didn’t fully realize it.
She was the hardest worker I
have ever known.
She felt deeply. She loved literature and the video
She was very compassionate
and caring – always doing things to comfort those in turmoil.
She was easy for me to talk
She loved me.
interesting to me about these descriptions of my grandmother is that every single
one of them also describes my dad. Every
one of his descriptions of his dad:
set a tremendous example of faithfulness and steadfastness.” Again,
those two words describe my dad, very well.
wasn’t always smart, even though he excelled in school. Quote:
hot.” I set my hand down on the
grid. It was. My hand looked like a waffle for almost a
always perfectly behaved at home. Quote:
coming into my room without my permission.
That didn’t deter her at all. One
day when I was in my room, I heard her in the next room. Somehow I knew that she didn’t know I was in
my room, and I sensed that she was about to come in. I hid under the bed. Sure enough, in she saunters. When she got right by the bed, I reached out
and grabbed her ankle. She got sick she
was so scared.
was he perfectly behaved at school.
dress. She kept standing by my desk and
yelling at my friends. I succeeded in
getting a few faces drawn in the circles in her dress with my fountain pen
without her feeling it. I never did get
caught. My friends treated me like a
Dad started to grow up. After what he
termed a “spiritual crisis,” Dad decided to serve a mission for the Mormon Church. Those 2 ½ years he spent in Peru, teaching
and serving other people, changed and shaped his life in countless ways.
was on his mission that Dad started to develop empathy. Quote:
feelings did not consistently register with me until I was on a mission.
was on his mission that Dad decided on his career path. Quote:
science. I had a great civics teacher my
senior year in high school who helped me realize I could think. My secret ambition as a result of that class
was to someday be a U.S. Senator, so I chose a major that I felt would help me
realize that dream.
for a while in the mission field. A church
member started paying tithing as a result, he said, of one of my lessons. The teenage daughter of the branch
president, who had refused to be baptized up until then, came up to me after a
Sunday school lesson I had given on baptism and invited me to her baptism. She thanked me for helping her understand it
for the first time.
experiences like these, helped me realize I could teach: that was my gift.
thus my dad started on a path that would bless hundreds of lives. One of his former students said of him,
“Brother Boyce was the greatest seminary teacher on this earth. I actually enjoyed getting up early and going
to seminary because of him.”
kept maturing, and we’re all grateful that he was smart enough to ask my mom on
a date when he met her. Dad said that spring
has always been his favorite time of year, because it was during the spring
that he and mom fell in love.
changed forever when he became a dad. Here’s how he described it. Quote:
amazed, and thrilled than I have ever been. It was awesome.
that’s where I came into the picture.
When I was young, I didn’t know or care too much about his history or
his profession. He was just my dad. He was around sometimes, sometimes he
traveled. He did what dads did. He loved
me, and I loved him. So when people told
me what a great man he was, I’d think, “Of course he is.” It was simply a given.
fourth grade, I fancied myself an excellent speller because I had won my class
spelling bee. I remember coming home one
day, chock full of how smart I was, and asking Dad to spell the hardest word I
knew: simultaneous. I knew it would be
too hard for him. He spelled it without
even looking up from the evening paper. That
did it: Dad was officially the smartest
person I ever knew (and I didn’t even fully understand what it meant to have a
doctorate, which he had).
then I turned 12, at which point something strange happened: Dad started to become annoying.
was the time he got super frustrated at my mom for handing him a wrench the
wrong way, when it was clear to everyone else in the family that he was simply
too proud to admit that he couldn’t fix the washing machine to save his life.
my teenage superiority, I rolled my eyes and told myself I would never react
that way when I became a parent.
time, Dad couldn’t find his nail clippers I had asked to borrow. He thought he
had safely hidden them in a small box on his dresser, but one of his eight
pesky children had found and absconded with them. When Dad discovered this, he went completely
eye roll and firm resolution on my part.
when he’d say something that embarrassed me in front of my friends. That was, like, the worst. Plus, there was the fact that he traveled and wasn’t always around; as a result, I didn’t always feel a strong connection with him.
when I was a teenager and people told me what a great man he was, I’d think, “Well, maybe. But you don’t really know how annoying or embarrassing he is. And that he doesn’t really understand me. Nor I him.”
eventually — and very slowly — I started to grow up.
my own spiritual crisis, I also decided to serve a mission for the Mormon Church. The 18 months I spent in Austria, teaching
and serving other people, changed and shaped my life in countless ways. And I understood my dad a little better.
my mission, I was smart enough to ask Jeff on a date when I met him. We fell in love during the winter.
our first baby was born, Dad drove from Arkansas to Baltimore, where we lived,
to spend time with us. I was a brand-new
mom, completely overwhelmed by my feelings of love for my daughter Kirsten. I tried to articulate those feelings to Dad. Dad looked me in the eye and said,
“Everything you’re feeling right now towards Kirsten is exactly how I’ve felt
about you since the day you were born.”
For the first time in my life, I fully understood the depth of his love
for me. And I understood him a little
year or two later came the inevitable.
One day, my husband had the audacity to get really, really irritated at me while I was only
trying to help him fix the toilet. Let’s
just say he’s not a plumber, but is a little proud to admit it. I remembered my dad’s attempts at home
repairs – and understood him a little better.
after spending months reiterating to my young teenage daughter that my makeup
was to stay in my bathroom, and even after buying her very own makeup for her so
that mine would stay put, there came a morning when my makeup was nowhere to be
found. At which point I went completely
ballistic. I thought about my dad and the
nail clipper incident – and understood him a little better.
kids grew. Mom & Dad moved to our
neck of the woods. Dad made it a point
to go on lunch dates with my kids, take them fishing, shoot hoops with them,
attend their games and performances. He
made it a point to go on lunch dates with me.
Dad traveled so he could be with other kids and grandkids for their
special occasions. By that point, I knew
what it means to try and juggle more things than you think possible, and that
prioritizing family time takes real effort.
I appreciated and understood Dad a little better.
didn’t slow Dad down, although he did pick up golfing again. Allegedly, there was a point early in my
parents’ marriage when Mom gave Dad an ultimatum. “It’s me or golf,” she had said
to him, “You choose.”
chose wisely. However, his golf scores
never fully recovered.
mostly, Dad spent time with family, taught part-time and worked in the temple
— all while counting down the days until he and Mom would serve a
mission. More than anything, he wanted
to continue making a difference in people’s lives and was so very excited when
it was finally time to go.
of the paperwork submission process for missionary service requires thorough
health exams. It was a result of these
exams that we found out about the cancer.
was devastated that he couldn’t serve another mission. In fact, the hardest thing about losing
energy and capacity to cancer was that he felt he could no longer make a difference, no
longer teach, no longer serve.
that he continued to make a tremendous difference in our lives. His courage and optimism throughout a truly
terrible ordeal taught us more than any lesson ever could. Bob’s kids, grandkids, relatives and friends will
all remember him when things get tough. If Bob Boyce can do something that’s
very, very hard – with a smile on his face most of the time — so can we. So can we, Dad. We thank you for that.
Dad continued to serve. Me, for
example. In January, I suffered a severe
concussion in an accident. It took months
for my brain to recover (it still hasn’t completely, in fact) and was very
difficult. My dad, who was himself recovering
from a recent round of chemotherapy, called me one day to say he was taking me
out to lunch. One of the side effects
of chemotherapy is what the doctors call a “brain fog,” where it’s difficult to
think clearly at times. Concussions, as
you may know, have similar side effects.
were quite a pair that day, my dad and I, especially when we got lost on the
way to the restaurant. My phone’s battery
was dead, and Dad (of course) didn’t want to ask for directions, so we had
only our certifiably unreliable brains to rely on. The good part? This gave us about 30 extra minutes in the
car to talk before we finally arrived at the restaurant. After lunch was over,
we managed to find our way back to my house.
I walked into my house and wept.
I understood what a sacrifice that had been for him, but he did it
because he loved me and wanted to serve me. And I understood him a little better.
hope my dad knows how many people’s lives he affected for good. Years ago, while one of my cousins was serving
a Mormon mission in Taiwan, he met a 26-year-old fellow missionary. My cousin asked him why he had chosen to
serve a mission, and the missionary started talking about an institute teacher
who had changed his life. The name of
that man? Bob Boyce. This is just one of hundreds of stories.
served his Heavenly Father and fellow man every day of his life. His life was his mission.
cousin wrote the following tribute to my dad:
life” I will always think of Uncle Bob. He died richer than anyone I’ve ever
known: an amazing family culture and happy relationships with a wife and 8
children, a bounteous teaching career with so many appreciative and transformed
students, and a true minister of Jesus Christ who never tired in offering the
good word of God to uplift and comfort others. . . I could feel the spirit of
love he had for others as he exuded joy about doing just every-day things with
those he loved most: going to a grandson’s baseball game, serving in the
temple, having dinner with old friends, attending a baby blessing or baptism.
sow. Thanks for modeling how to garden, Uncle Bob.
you will always be stuck in our heads, and in our hearts, and we’ll miss you
every day. But at the same time, I’m so
happy for you, because I have a pretty good idea of what probably happened once
you passed over to the other side. After
your reunion with your parents and other loved ones, my guess is that you found
whoever was in charge and asked these questions:
I teach? How can I serve? Who can I love?
invite all of us to honor the remarkable legacy of my dad, Robert Daniel Boyce,
by following the example of our Savior Jesus Christ — in whom he had deep,
abiding faith — by regularly asking ourselves these three questions:
I teach? How can I serve? Who can I love?
thoughts of honor, love and remembrance I leave with you in the name of our
Lord and Savior Jesus Chirst, into whose loving embrace my father has now entered,