Richard Lamar Gresham's Obituary
Wikipedia defines a hero as someone who in the face of danger combats adversity through impressive feats of ingenuity, bravery, or strength, often sacrificing his or her own personal concerns for some greater good. On November 11, 2016, we lost a hero. Richard “HOOK” Lamar Gresham caught his “final call”. A call to rest from a life so well lived, that there was to be no more suffering from the limitations of an earthly body, only peace and rest for his heart of gold.
He didn’t wear a cape but rather bunker gear and a Sam Houston. In his later years after retiring from a 33 year career in the Fire/Rescue Service, instead of a helmet, he continued to wear many other hats. Loving husband to his one true forever love, Susan (Mrs. Hook), Daddy to his children and their spouses, and DaddyDaddy, Grandaddy, and PawPaw to his grandchildren and great granddaughter. He was also deeply loved as a son, brother, brother in law, and trusted friend.
He entered this world on March 14, 1945. He was so little, his siblings carried him around on a pillow. The youngest of seven, he like his siblings learned and grew up ready to take his place in this world.
At 17, while at the bowling alley in Mableton, he met the love of his life, Susan Ellison, a beautiful 15 year old also destined to change the world and become “Mrs. Hook”. When they married on January 28, 1963, they committed themselves what was to become a lifelong devoted love and friendship that would overcome anything the world threw their way.
At 19, ironically on another May 5th (he met Susan on a May 5th), the legend we now call Hook joined the fire department. He worked hard and literally learned and earned his way up the fire department ladder. He was one of the “originals” that helped shape the fire department into what it is today. His love for his men was always genuine and real, as he took responsibility for training, teaching, and watching over them in a very dangerous profession without the benefit of a lot of what we know today. It wasn’t just a job. It was his extended family, and he loved them and their families, and wanted all of them to make it home at the end of the shift. His relationships were genuine and solid. We grew up hearing the hysterical ways they pranked each other to pass the time. We knew of his pet squirrels at Station 1 that would cross the driveway to come eat out of his uniform pocket. Lest we forget, the biscuits he made that the crews lovingly named “cat heads” because of their size.
In a career where one call could change history forever, he was dependable, strong, and made thoughtful well executed decisions while learning and leading. He saw the heartache and pain of being one brave enough to stand in the gap for others when the desperate calls for help came. He responded with a courageous determined heart, that if there was a way to help, he was going to do it. He knew sometimes things would not end well, but pushed through the heartbreaking moments. He never gave up hope that we can make a difference, even in loss and tragedy, as well as in success. In that world, water could be your saving grace, or it could become the steam that burns, or even the mist that froze into ice breaking off your mustache. Inside his heart he believed in the “living water” promised by his Savior. He would say “when the smoke turns white – you know we are putting water on it”. Even as he was preparing us that we may be facing the last call, he knew our hearts were breaking with dark clouds of pain, hurt and the fear of impending loss. He was still the strong hero. He was reminding us that he knew the living water was real, trying to help us put out the fire of pain in our hearts. He made it clear, he would try to stay with us, but if he couldn’t, how much he loved us and that he knew where he was going. God had already given him glimpses of the peace that waited for him. He told us it is quiet and peaceful, and there was no pain. He made it clear when our times come, he will be there to meet us. Those are the same qualities he taught us as he lived and modeled life. In this world, where a truck full of water sloshing back and forth in chaos can wreak havoc, the baffles serve to control the burden of shifting weight. The things Hook taught us are life lessons he was leaving us. He was helping us learn to navigate what seems uncontrollable, by strengthening our steadiness though the baffles he personified: commitment, love, honest hard work, forgiveness, thoughtfulness, kindness and friendship. He took time to “shore up” the loose ends. He wanted us to know what he believed, and in Whom he believed.
His love for the Fire Department was only exceeded by his love for his family. It was unconditional. He was strong and encouraging, yet sympathetic and compassionate. Even when he had to give us the “Hook deep voice”, there was comfort in knowing what he was saying was full of love and guidance. His love knew no boundaries. Following his retirement, his focus was for his family and continuing to teach us through his example. While he loved motorcycles (we all remember his Fatboy and the Firefighter edition Harley), he also enjoyed collecting knives, hooking up Sally their cat with an assortment of her favorite things (including the kitty condo), and other things retirement offered. At the end of the day though, his passion was always for his family.
He is survived by the love of his life, his wife Susan. We were humbled and honored to witness the deep abiding love between them as they tenderly spoke with each other words of comfort, peace, encouragement, promises, and the hope we have in Christ that we will be together again one day. He being strong for her, she being strong for him, a reverent and precious holy time that they were given.
He is survived by his daughter Michelle, her husband Rehman and their daughter Emily; by his son Mark and his wife Karen, and their children Savannah, HolliAnn, and Gracie; by his daughter Melanie and her children Hannah and Blake; and by the newest child to steel his heart, a great granddaughter, Elise. He leaves behind brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, a mother in law, and many others who loved him. To say that he loved each of them beyond measure is an understatement. To know his love is humbling, to be called his child a gift. To Paul and Jenni, this hero was Daddy Hook. He was proud of Susan and “all of the kids”, and I am sure that as he looks down watching over us, he is trying to comfort us with his love.
He joins others who went before him. Family he loved, a grandchild (little Olivia) we never got to hold, friends he loved, people he saved, and people he worked with and loved. As Momma Hook said through the purest love and tears, “Even broken, how can you not be grateful that we know where he is, Who he belongs to, and who he is with now. How could you deny anyone you love so much that?”
He tried to stay for us. He put up a brave and heroic battle. He struggled. He pushed through. He waited. He told each child he loved them. He told us to be strong. He told us he would wait for us on the other side. He fought to keep his promise that if it was within God’s will, he would come back to us. He kept fighting although he was tired and exhausted. Then with the same kind compassion and love that considers the best for others not for self that he taught us, through gentle tears and a broken heart that loves like her Daddy loved, one child told him we knew he was struggling. She made sure he knew that we saw he fought a hard and valiant fight, but if he needed to, it was okay to rest.
That is the kind of love and legacy a hero leaves behind. Even in death, he was brave, strong, and sacrificed his own personal comfort fighting the battle to the end. He did not lose. If you are reading this, his heart of gold impacted your life and you are grieving too.
When you hear the sound of a Federal Q, picture him standing on it with his shiny polished Thorogoods. When you hear the pipes on a Harley, picture him riding it. When you see a truck pass you, remember his legacy. When your heart needs peace, be still, and remember the sound of his voice, and the way he loved you.
What’s your fondest memory of Richard ?
What’s a lesson you learned from Richard ?
Share a story where Richard 's kindness touched your heart.
Describe a day with Richard you’ll never forget.
How did Richard make you smile?