My dad passed away in
October of 2013. I wrote about it here. I thought a deserving memorial would be the Eulogy I
spoke at his funeral. Though my earthly father is with Christ now, I am
grateful that my heavenly Father walks with me every day.
On January 14, 1930,
in Kansas City, Missouri, Marvin Paul Burnett arrived accompanied by his twin
brother Marion. Unfortunately, Marion died when only three years old.
Marvin spent the
first six years of his life fending off illness; a strep infection forced his
parents to move to Denver in 1936 so that Marvin could undergo a bilateral
mastoidectomy to remove the infected bone from behind the ear. He also was one
of the first in the US to receive antibiotics, which had to be flown in from
Germany. For years to follow, he did not experience significant health
problems, but medicine would be a part of him for the rest of his life.
Upon graduating from
Denver South High School in 1948, he attended Colorado A&M, which is now
CSU. However, college was put on hold as he was called into active duty to
serve in the Korean War. He jokingly remarked to a buddy that, thanks to the
war, he didn’t have to study for his upcoming Zoology exam. He completed
infantry training in California and, In April of 1951, was assigned to the
First Marine Division as a rifleman. He was released from active duty as a
corporal—earning a Purple Heart Medal for shrapnel in his shoulder, which he
also carried for the rest of his life.
He re-entered college
in 1952 and received his Bachelor of Science in Zoology in June of 1954. He
considered becoming a veterinarian, but his college counselor would not have
it, and refused to sign a recommendation for him unless it was to enter medical
school. He devoted the next two years to graduate research studies and finally
entered medical school in the fall of 1956. He continued as a graduate
assistant in teaching Zoology Laboratory and Ornithology. He enjoyed research;
however, it became clear that clinical medicine was his calling. However, his
interest in Zoology and Ornithology continued, as numerous cats, dogs,
reptiles, and the like were a constant in the Burnett household, along with the
Field Guide to North American Birds and a pair of binoculars.
In 1960 he graduated
from the University of Colorado School of Medicine. After graduation, he served
as a Captain in the United States Army from 1960-1961 in the state of
Washington to complete a one-year medical residency. From 1961-1964 he
completed a residency at Presbyterian Hospital in Denver and completed a second
residency with Denver Presbyterian in Pathology from 1964-1965. This was not
enough for my dad as he completed yet another residency at the University of
New Mexico from 1965 to 1966 in Hematology.
Just a few years later, my father and two partners, Dr. Robert Berris and Dr.
Paul Hamilton, founded Hematology Oncology Associates in Denver, down on 18th
and Franklin. This is the original entity that, over the years, has grown and
evolved into what is now Rocky Mountain Cancer Center. Though retiring in 1998,
medicine continued to surround his life.
Apart from practicing medicine, my dad also enjoyed the outdoors. It is no
secret my dad loved to golf, but even more, he loved to fish. In fact, his physical
therapist, Adam, endured ten years of bibliographies of fly-fishing must-reads.
His hobby of tying his own flies reflected his love for the stream, and you
would be hard-pressed to find something in the Burnett household that did not
have either the Orvis, Trout Unlimited, or Catch and Release
logo proudly displayed. He loved taking the family fishing. The first morning
light of loading the station wagon with tents, pillows, blankets, fishing
tackle, coolers, kids, and the like proved inspiring. The white and black
checkered luggage carrier on top of the brown and white woodgrain ‘76 Country
Squire station wagon was indeed a sight to be seen. By the time he unloaded the
fishing tackle from underneath the non-essential fishing equipment, he could
expect a good hour or two of prime fishing.
He also loved to hunt. I can remember
many trips to the far-east, well, the far east of Colorado or Kansas, to walk
the cornfields. I did get to accompany him as the assistant to his retriever. I
loved those memories; good times!
My father earned a
mention in his former Drill Sergeant’s memoir of the Korean War, The
Run Up to The Punch Bowl. The Punch Bowl was an ancient volcanic crater off
Japan's coast, giving the North Koreans a great advantage in the war. My dad
had to face a Punch Bowl of his own, which included many life-threatening
illnesses that resembled a volcanic crater that at times seemed to have the
advantage. But my dad lived a life of miracles.
His first miracle as a child,
receiving antibiotics for a strep infection, was the first, not the last. His
second life miracle was surviving the rearing of three daughters. He earns
double credit for me; he should receive a special honor for surviving my
teenage and young adult years until Christ grabbed hold of my heart and life
and gave my dad a bit of a reprieve. But as I heard a wise pastor’s wife once
say about child-rearing, “Who could be a better parent than the heavenly
Father, and under perfect circumstances, His children fell.” So, I hope that
comforts my dad. He was a good father, one who loved his family and his faith.
His faith dictated his practice of medicine, and his compassion for the sick
and dying still strikes me today. Just as the first six or seven years of my
dad’s life began warding off sickness, the last six or seven years of his life
were spent the same way. Though many illnesses threatened my dad, he kept them
at bay until Sunday, October 13, 2013. It was simply his time. I can see the
fingerprints of Jesus all over his life. And it is the grace of God that
allowed my dad to be with us as long as he was in the face of illnesses that
sought his life.
You see Psalm 91 on your programs
today; it is fitting. Barb Roberts read it to my dad just a few days before he
passed, and we all knew that Psalm would be a part of my dad’s service today. Although
it looks like from our perspective that pestilence did come near my dad and, in
fact, ended his life, death does not win; it does not have the last word. The
Cross of Christ overcame the power that death had; First Corinthians 15:55
taunts death, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” Christ
forever destroyed the power of death, and though we may be separated from our
bodies, which are decaying, we can never be separated from spending eternity
with Jesus our Lord.
It will forever be a precious memory
that I witnessed my dad’s last breath on earth as he entered the presence of
the Lord with such peace. My dad is now with the Lord and no longer does
cancer, triple “A” ruptures, strokes, or infection plague his body. He can
speak again; he can walk perfectly again—no plague comes near his dwelling, for
now, he is truly sheltered in the wings of the Highest.
Our hope is in God. I heard another
pastor’s wife say of hope after her son committed suicide, “Having hope is not
a magic spell we use to get our way - it simply realigns our hearts towards God
in such a way that allows faith to grow and opens the doors to miracles. God is
all that remains constant - our hope is IN HIM. Our hope is in a Person, not a
particular outcome.” Yes, I prayed for him to be healed. God answered my
prayer, just not on this side of eternity. Isn’t that our hope as believers?
That is my hope. I know that I will see my dad again one day. And that is what
takes the sting of death from us, that Christ-followers have it all—hope for
today AND hope for tomorrow.
I loved my dad. I
always looked up to him and respected the accomplishments in his life. How he
took care of and provided for his family. A beautiful reflection of the
heavenly Father, who provides and cares for the needs of His family. We will
always love you, Dad; your life truly glorified God.
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