It has been a long and terrible two weeks.  TWO WEEKS.  We laid my dad to rest on Monday, January 14, 2019.  89 years is a good, long life.  I miss him terribly already, but even though I am happy for him, I am sad for me.

Over 300 people came to his visitation.  If that doesn’t say something about the man my father was, I don’t know what would.  As my Jesuit friend would say, my dad was a man for others. Thank you, friends, for honoring my father.  A man of little fuss and fanfare, he would have been overwhelmed.  We were.

I am grateful for the friends who reached out to me with love and support.  I appreciate those who recognized what I lost and allowed me to have my grief to myself without trying to make it about their own sadness.  Because, you see, you may have lost a friend or an advisor or a mentor, but you didn’t lose your everything.  So much of who I am is because of my dad, and even if you are in this sad fraternity with me, your loss can never equate to mine, just as yours is yours alone.  Thank you for not trying to take that away from me.  It seems obvious, but I can tell you it isn’t.

I’m grateful for those who have been there to help and support my mother in a way that I couldn’t.

I am so touched by the kind and compassionate care he received by so many at the hospital.  Fellow nurses, I know it is your “job”, but I have to tell you that sometimes it requires more and we were so lucky to have so many who understood that he wasn’t just the patient in room ____, but that he was a father and a husband and a friend and a person.  You cared for my dad the way you would have cared for your own.  I love that you saw the man underneath the pain and appreciated his sense of humor even when he was ornery. Again, it seems obvious, but I can tell you from this experience that it isn’t to everybody.

I didn’t deliver a eulogy like my father had asked me to do.  Our secrets will stay between us.  For now.  Here’s what I would have said:

Duty, decency, reliability, honor, dignity, respect:  my father was a modern day Knight and this was his code of Chivalry. 

His long life was filled with wonder:  he was born in the age of the Tin Lizzy and died as Tesla brought us self-driving cars.  15 different men served as President of the United States. He saw the Berlin Wall go up AND come down and watched a man walk on the moon.  

Dad was an only child, so he filled his life with friends and welcomed them into his family.  He had a boundless capacity to love, and I’ll bet every single person in this room has a story about time spent with him.  

He and my mother together sought many adventures, from White Water Rafting to lying on the beach in Aruba. Chautauqua was our home away from home — his Eden, maybe, because he always seemed at peace at the lake.   I wonder now if he really did love traveling in the RV or if that was another thing he selflessly did for us.

He was often happiest when left to tinker.  My father was an inventor and an engineer and an architect and McGuyver:  he could make or fix anything. He once fixed my jeep with little more than a coffee can, duct tape, and a pie plate.  There is not a square inch at his home that hasn’t been “gumped”.

He loved his kids and his grandchildren.  He had a unique and special relationship with each of us, wholly different than the others.  We all knew him differently. He loved me in spite of my warts, easily forgave my many transgressions, accepted my failures, and gave me his undying fealty and loyalty.  He never let me fall asleep thinking I was unwanted. He is the standard against which all the other men in my life have been measured.

He gave sage advice on everything from teaching my kids manners and responsibility to keeping your partner happy and the marriage healthy and alive.  He was a straightforward man who demanded little from those around him, and who expected only the best for his three children.

My dad had an inherent ability to listen, to absorb, and to offer a point of view based on quiet, measured wisdom. He was firm in his principles and supportive as we began to seek our own ways. He encouraged and comforted, but never steered. We tested his patience – I know I did – but he always responded with the great gift of unconditional love. He was an imposing figure of a man — a tall, dark, handsome character whose reassuring presence we all felt during difficult times. He never made rash decisions.  He embraced his life and was blessed with an abundant one. He looked for the good in each person – and usually found it. He loved to laugh, especially at himself. He could tease and needle, but never out of malice. He placed great value on a good joke.  He was mischievous and loved a good prank.

He loved my mother so, so much.  Passionately and deeply and honestly.  He cared for her even in his last moments — he couldn’t rest unless he knew she would be cared for.

And we’re going to miss you. Your decency, sincerity, and kind soul will stay with us forever. So, through our tears, let us see the blessings of knowing and loving you – a great and noble man, and the best father a son or daughter could have.

#manhattanproject2019