In Memoriam: Keith Erickson, my father (1944-2025)

This past Tuesday, January 7, 2025, my father, Keith Erickson, passed away after a seven-year battle with cancer. He was surrounded by family during the final days of his life, as we shared stories, prayer, tears, moments of deep quiet, laughter, and much singing around his bed. There are so many things I could say about my father, but I will keep it to a few things here.

My Dad taught me to love music, whether singing, playing an instrument, or listening to good music. He was a wonderful singer, bringing his strong tenor voice to many choirs and church services. While my first instrument was piano, during middle school and high school, I played trumpet, which was the same instrument Dad played during that same season of his life. It was a great joy to share love of music with my Dad, including regifting my high school trumpet to him this past year so he could start rebuilding his ability to play trumpet again.

Dad taught me to work hard, whether at home, in school, or in my jobs. Dad showed this in his example but also called me to it first as a student and then in my various part-time jobs during grade school, middle school, and high school. I knew that if I wanted an allowance, part of it required working. I knew that when my grade reports came in, Dad expected me to do my best. Part of this came from his own experience of coming from a hard-working family, where he was the first child to go to college. This required him to work multiple jobs to support himself during his college years, from which he had any number of humorous stories. The up-side of this was a strong work ethic, the down-side of this was that Dad and I both have a hard time knowing when to shut off working.

Which leads me to some of the hard things, which also ended up being learning experiences and meaningful in their own ways. My Dad was a wonderful man but struggled to be in touch with and talk about his emotions. I always knew he loved me, but sometimes as I grew up he could be distant or consumed by work. At one point in his life, this led him into a dark place of relying on alcohol amidst stress. This eventually led to a terrible car accident that deeply changed his—and our family’s—life. Through all of this, I learned how important it was to be aware of our emotions and face difficult things, even difficult things within oneself.

But it was in that difficult season that something changed. As my Dad recovered from his accident, I learned something profound by how my Dad lived. He chose to draw near to God in his weakness and brokenness. His favorite hymn during this season (if not forever after) was “Nothing but the Blood of Jesus,” because Dad knew just how much he needed cleansing through Christ. Dad lost much after the difficulty of his accident, but he showed me the power of persevering in the face of adversity while relying on Christ’s power. Day by day, my Dad saw God provide for him and lead him in ways that were truly infused with grace and mercy. I also learned how our brokenness can be turned toward good through my Dad’s journey, as he became involved with others going through addictions and dark times, allowing his own journey to be a conduit of encouragement and grace to others. To be honest, although I respected the Dad I had growing up, I loved the Dad I grew to know more intimately in the last twenty-five years of his life.

There is so much more to say but that is what I have for now. You can read the official obituary here.

I appreciate your prayer support for my mother and our entire extended family after my father’s death. Here is a prayer that has become important to me in these days, which my wife, Kelly, shared with me from Celtic Daily Prayer, book 2.

Into my grieving
I weave
the strength of the Father.

Into my grieving
I weave
the compassion of the Son.

Into my grieving
I weave
the comfort of the Spirit.

Into my grieving
I receive
the presence of the Three in One.

Into my anger
I invite
the patience of the Father.

Into my numbness
I invite
the healing of the Son.

Into my confusion
I invite
The wisdom of the Spirit.

And we shall grieve together,
I, in community
with the Three in One.