I wanted to eulogize my father at his funeral, but I couldn’t do it. It was frustrating to me. Why wasn’t I able to stand up and talk about the most influential person in my life? My heart was broken, and I was not emotionally available to anyone but my grief. I wanted to speak words to everyone that honored him, and I was not capable of that at the time.
So here I sit – years later – ready to eulogize my father. Time heals all wounds and my grief from losing him has subsided. I realise I have been reflecting on my father more and more since he passed, and I am still continually learning from him and his life. I see how truly wonderful and remarkable he was. That has been time’s gift to me. And the words are flowing – so here it is, my eulogy for my father.
Dad – how appropriate that I write this while listening to Handle’s Messiah. I cannot listen to this and not think of you. It brings back warm memories of Sunday dinners with the family – following church of course. Each week was a new surprise – oysters rockefeller, turkey, and crown roast. You always had a soup course – cream of mushroom, broccoli, chicken noodle and lentil. Desserts were classics such as baked alaska or cherries jubilee. Gravy was a must with any meat you served, and I remember standing on the step stool behind the stove watching you make gravy. After your heart attack in the 70’s Mom asked me to make the gravy since I would watch you make it every week. It was an epic fail on my end of course since I never really followed how you mixed all the ingredients, rather I remained transfixed on watching you cook and basically doing my only job which was stirring the gravy. We dined with lit candles each week using family Limoges china, said grace, and occasionally had to give a “report” on a book of the bible you picked for us. The music selection was almost always Handel’s Messiah, but you did throw in many operas which of course you dissected to us aria by aria, plot by plot.
As I look back on it – those days were not about just cooking and the meal – they were about family, about taking those opportunities offered to us to be together and to experience the richness of life, the richness of all there is to offer. That is what you wanted for us, and by doing just this, you upped parenting a notch. You of course had the traditional parenting quality of being the disciplinarian, but you were not the type of parent who chauffeured us around or even strived to be a friend. To me you were a teacher of philosophy and led by example by being passionate in everything you did. I think more than anything that is what you wanted to impart to all of us. Sunday dinners exemplified your “The Sauce to the Meat is Ceremony” way of living. This bon mote was one I heard frequently and one that I try to live by – make everything special. Use the gifts you have to truly create memorable and enriching experiences for everyone.
When I encountered difficulty in my life, you simply said – “Robin, you have to choose how to live your life”, and proceeded to tell me to read Socrates. That was the best advice anyone could give and light years ahead of where I was – simply that what I do, I choose. We have one life and it is up to us how to live it. I cannot think of a more loving way to help your child than that. And yes, I still read Socrates.
Your desire to share all that you were curious about revealed what a deep thinker you were. I never thought you were pontificating, rather you wanted us to think deeply on these things, to live above the surface of life. Keeping the television in the basement and making us stay home on Sundays really deepened my love for conversation and books. My friends loved to come over, just to hear you. You dissected poems to us like Ozymandias by Percy Shelly, and Daffodils by William Wordsworth. The poems meant something to you and oh how you wanted to share those ideals – things don’t matter, you can’t take it with you, let things go, beauty can be found by looking outside at daffodils, you can replace loneliness with joy and most importantly – nothing can overcome time. You read to us about the pyramids in Egypt, the statues on Easter Island, and talked about your world travels. Listening to your thoughts on Joseph Campbell and the “Power of Myth” influenced my life greatly – those six components of myths that tell us about our lives have been instrumental in my own life.
How you loved our mother – what a gift to all of us. I remember one moment during a lunch we were having when you cupped her chin in your hand, turned her head to all of us at the table, and said “Isn’t she the most beautiful woman in the world?” That simple gesture is one I think of often and the love you felt for her was never more evident than in that moment.
Your “there is nothing more important than family” comment – what a gem and one that I share with my daughters over and over again. And guess what – it works! I heard this growing up countless times. It was all about respect for one another. “Thoughtless words create sleepless nights”, “don’t let the sun go down on your anger” – all solid bits of advice to maintain openness, honesty, and a loving relationship with one another. At our family reunion last summer, with all sixty-two of us running around, visiting with each other, toasting the family and truly enjoying each other’s company – I felt your spirit. We are the collective consciousness of your life and we all feel so special for it. I looked around our gathering room and felt that feeling trickling down to every child, every grandchild, and I hope great grand child.
You were a wonderful father and a truly remarkable human being, and I want you to know that wherever your spirit goes – it is in all of us. That is due to you and I will feel forever grateful and blessed to call you my Dad. Follow your bliss, do what makes you happy, be a healthy, wealthy follower of God, it’s a great day in the Boy Scouts today, neither a borrower or lender be, learn how to give and accept graciously – all good things that I heard day in and day out. These are the intangibles that are critical to how I life my life and the most glorious takeaways a parent can give to a child. Truly.
I end with a quote, of course! Again – during a very troublesome point in my life, you gave me a book that your mother had given to you, called “You Try It”. Each chapter in this book is how I feel you lived your life – try putting first things first, try facing the wind, try faith in problem solving, in a plan, in action, in healing, in prosperity and always give yourself a personal check-up. By practicing the presence and magnifying the light – you release the real self.
You will know and so will those around you when you have found what you are looking for. The psychologist says that learning is the reorganization of experience and behavior. You Try It.
Life Experiences Add Up 