Gary Rust: A man of great devotions

Since October, my father has been on hospice at his home, his spirit strong but his body breaking down, daily life largely in a wheelchair.

Time with family has been wonderful and uplifting, including a niece’s wedding at his house with more than 100 guests, a celebration of Thanksgiving over four weekends as sisters, brothers and their children from across the country came to visit in small groups rather than as one gathering: better to spend time one-on-one talking deeply and sharing beautiful stories. Christmas and New Year’s were filled with joy around the dinner table or just talking at the smaller kitchen table, where until recently he always had a book he was reading and his television remote controls — to flip between cable news channels and, especially on weekends, sports.

Then, the day after New Year’s, the end began to come quickly. His spirit was strong; his body breaking down. Still, his humor prevailed. When a nurse checked him by asking who the president was, he said that Trump would be inaugurated later in the month.

“True,” she said, “but who is president now?”

“That’s a trick question,” he quipped. “For at least the last two months, no one is sure.”

The humor continued in myriad ways, as did the singing. Many conversations sparked an idea that he could respond to in song. From “The Impossible Dream” to “Stout-Hearted Men” to “My Way” and more, the lines from the songs — and then the whole song — were perfectly placed, his memory remarkable.

Around him for the last few days were all five of his surviving children, his youngest son, Rex, having died from cancer three years ago. (He and my mom were no strangers to death; they had lost their first two children before all but my eldest sister, Penny, was born.) Many grandchildren and one great-grandchild were also present. My dad gave his love to each — and he expressed his pride. Above all, he expressed his love and pride in his wife, Wendy, who thanked him “for picking me".

Elsewhere in this newspaper are stories about Gary Rust’s accomplishments — and his life particularly as newspaper entrepreneur and community leader.

This is just a column about a man of devotions, for “devoted” is one of the words that best describes him.

He was devoted foremost to his wife, his lifelong love. And to his family, whom he loved to see and talk with, joke with, and hear the latest of what they were doing. He was devoted to his friends and to his coffee and Bible study groups. He was devoted to seeking the truth, as it was the motivator for him becoming involved in newspapers in the first place. And to his country, which he cherished and saw as the hope of the world, grounded in capitalism and Christian good works. He was devoted to the brilliance and challenge of democracy, which he believed required an honest and fair free press, and individual courage, commitment, integrity and mutual respect to succeed. He was devoted to his church and to God.

He was also devoted to reading and engaging with ideas; no person was more curious. And he was devoted to helping people succeed. He loved people. He loved encouraging them and celebrating their accomplishments — and making them laugh.

At one point, he called us in to talk as a group. As we gathered around him, he told us he was ready to go. He told us he loved us. He loved his wife. He was proud of us.

He was devoted to this world, to this town that he was born in and loved — and yet ready, happy, to find peace, and freedom from pain. He told more jokes, his voice becoming softer and harder to understand. He didn’t sing. But he smiled as my sister said, “Christians never have to say good-bye.”

He died two days later, with my mom by his side, and surrounded by family, hands placed upon him, after we had sung for him many of his favorite songs and hymns. He was a man of uncommon valor, kindness, generosity, vision, romance, mischief and humor. A man of love and devotions. My hero.

Jon K. Rust is publisher of the Southeast and president of Rust Communications.