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3 Entries
Holly Eykhot
Earlier today
A Poem John may have liked to be remembered by .
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there; I did not sleep.
Patty (Eykholt) Dunn
Yesterday
Thinking about my dad often brings me back to childhood, sitting together with our favorite toy: the Spirograph. What do we make out of this blank sheet of paper, laid in a hard container? Nothing but sharp edges, no instructions, and endless possibilities. Moments and memories feel like that simple point of a pen stretched out into swirls and arches. Falls in the curves, sometimes chaotic, sometimes confusing, but always in the end, oh, something beautiful.
I didn´t make this connection until it was too late to share with him, but I think he was showing me early on that life is layered. That a life well lived is a grand act of connectedness, a weaving together of moments, and a loving practice of patience.
Our conversations followed the same pattern. They could go on for hours, take unexpected turns, but somehow, before saying goodbye, everything was connected. At the center, an opening that always offered clarity.
Some of my favorite memories with Dad revolve around music and coffee shops. Open mic nights and playing chess at the Toast & Jam, meeting his friends in Texas at the Dunn Brothers, attending an Electric Campfire Jam at the Sons of Hermann Hall in Deep Ellum, and sharing breakfasts at the Friendly Fox. The unrushed way he savored time is something to be admired. I was constantly in awe at how many people would stop to say hello, and the gentle way he responded with warmth and patience, as if there was room in his day for everyone.
I always think of Dad when I replay a song to concentrate on a particular chord progression or harmony, and I will miss sharing these details with him and the playful way he´d trace a melody back to where he was certain the musician had "borrowed" it from. Everything is connected.
You will be missed, Dad. TTFN.
-Patty (Eykholt) Dunn
Kelly Bauer
August 23, 2025
So John and I grew up together. So we're walking home from Lakeside Jr High. As we go we're snowballing cars. A driver decides to chase us down. He caught me and he didn't see John hiding about ten feet from us. The guys yelling at me saying he's gonna call the cops and So on. The guy asked me name I swear the only name that came to mind,'John Eykholt'. Lord John and I laughed about that for weeks. Just one if the many memories. RIP Ike
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