Son writes funny, loving obituary for his father: 'He's God's problem now'

Boehm, 41, found general tips online, including a summary of the person's life and a list of survivors. Then he stumbled upon an old memoir for Joe Heller of Centerbrook, Conn.

“Joe Heller made his last undignified and largely unpleasant gesture on September 8, 2019, signing away, in his words, 'a life of generally good health and few regrets. “Last week when the doctors confronted her daughters that 'your father is a very sick man,' they replied in unison, 'You have no idea.'

The obituary then informed readers that Heller filled his household with garbage, 300 pounds of bird seed, and various dead house plants.

“I read it, and I thought, 'That sounds like something my dad would do,'” Boehm said. “He made a lot of obscene gestures.”

Then he decided, why not make his father's death as funny and unexpected as his life?

Boehm said he broke into a laugh as he began to type the first sentence:

“Robert Adolph Boehm, with his lifelong dedication to his own personal brand of decoration, wrote, 'Some stupid mother**************************** ****************************************************** ****************************************************** ****************************************************** ******** hitting his head on the floor.”

It continues: “Robert was born in Winters, TX on May 6, 1950 to the late Walter Boehm and Betty Smith, after which God immediately and thankfully broke the mold and tried to cover up the evidence.”

From there, he was on a roll.

He wrote about how his father started shooting in his later years and managed to punch not one, but two holes in the dashboard of his car. She said her father had a penchant for fashion and was often seen wearing the latest trends in city-made leather moccasins, an extensive collection of unconventional hats and boldly mismatched shirts and pants.

“We've all done our best to enjoy/weather Robert's antics at this point, but he's God's problem now,” Boehm wrote in closing, advising everyone to wear their favorite out-of-date or inappropriate clothing to his father's farewell visit in October. 14 Amarillo, Tex.

He then sent the cremation to Robertson Funeral Directors, the Clarendon mortuary that was handling his father's cremation.

Mortuary owner Chuck Robertson said he almost choked on his breakfast while laughing when he read it.

“I told people in the office, 'Well, this is going to get us some attention,'” he said. “I've never had a family come through the door that wrote an obituary as classic as that. It immediately puts a smile on your face.”

As Robertson shared Robert Adolf Boehm's speech on the morgue's webpage and on Facebook, people read it far and wide, he said, adding that it has now been viewed more than 1 million times.

“Clarendon is a town of 2,000 people,” he said. “I knew a lot of people would like it, but I was shocked when it really started to explode.”

Strangers from around the country have commented on Boehm's death, Robertson said.

“I've never met this guy but sure sorry our paths didn't cross. If my family doesn't love me enough to die like this I don't want it,” commented Amber.

“Oh Robert!! You sound like the life of the party in more ways than one! I can just imagine the chaos in heaven right now!!” Posted by someone from Virginia.

A woman named Nikki summed it up for many readers: “Whoever wrote this obituary, please write to me! Rip good sir!”

Boehm said his father would be delighted that his legacy has sparked a stir.

“There are people who might think it's disrespectful and offensive, but I think it sounds perfect,” Boehm said of the obituary. “To me, that describes my father.”

Charles Boehm, the youngest of four children, said his father was a quirky and bubbly man who had struggled in recent months since the death of his wife, Diane Boehm, in February.

“When I tried to get him some mental health help, he admitted to me that he was scared and wanted me there with him,” she said. “We all went to see him when we could, and the good people of Clarendon looked after him and helped him a lot. But it was hard for him to look at my mom's empty chair and me 600 miles away.”

As Boehm packed up his father's belongings after his death, he said he realized his father's spirit and character were much bigger than he could carry in a trailer.

He recalls being home-schooled by his father after he started having trouble at school.

“I've always been a tinkerer, and so was my father,” he said. “He would take me to junk stores to buy little gadgets so I could take them apart. And he would fetch me lots of textbooks from the library.”

“He would make sure I understood the material, and he had an expectation that I would study until I answered every question,” said Boehm, who received a general education diploma at age 16.

Robert Boehm worked many jobs and finally settled on becoming a truck driver, he said.

“For a while, my parents were team drivers, and for at least a year or two, I was actually in the truck with them,” he said. “I got to see a lot, I read hundreds of books, and I learned how to sleep in a car anywhere in the Lower 48.”

One of his favorite memories happened about two years ago, Boehm said, when his father took him and his three sons on a camping trip.

“He was trying to make coffee in his tent at night using the homemade burner thing, and he started a small fire and burned a hole in the tent,” he said. “He talked about it for the rest of the night.”

As he died, Boehm said his father's apartment was full of historic weapons and a selection of harmonicas that he kept on hand so his dogs could always howl and entertain the neighbors.

He wanted to thank the people of Clarendon for looking up to his father and putting up with his malice.

“If I'm going to get something out of all of this, I have to say, it's for people everywhere to support the mental health of people in small rural towns,” Boehm said. “They go there to retire, then when they get old, their kids scatter and they're left alone. Many people slip through the cracks.”

He said, there are people like my father all over the country. “We have to look after them.”