Dad’s Eulogy

Posted on by 0 comment

Yesterday was my father’s memorial service. He died about a week earlier on May 31st., 2019, at the age of 98 years old. He was the last of our parents to depart from us. I was asked to say a few words. I am a better writer than public speaker so I read the following as a final tribute:

I never knew dad when he was in the army during WW2, or after the war when he stood up in his jeep to yell at a young German woman, who had lost track of time, and was out after the military curfew. I was there, however, to see her yell back on numerous occasions during their 64 years of marriage.

Mom and dad had, let’s call it, an exciting relationship. But beneath occasional friction they had a bond of love never to be broken. Dad never missed a day visiting her at the rehab center those last months. When she passed in January of 2012 he felt totally lost. At 91 he owned a nice three bedroom house, the house I grew up in, with a yard that was the envy of the neighborhood. But, it was increasingly difficult for him to take care of it. He had friends in the neighborhood but no best friends and no family.

That fall we sold his house and moved him to his new apartment in New Albany, Ohio. While life would never again be the same, he at least could construct a new life and be near family. Every day, weather permitting, he would go on a 2 mile walk through the beautiful nearby metro park, Blendon Woods. He did his own shopping, cooking, laundry, etc. Our whole family visited him frequently. He at least had a life again.

Dad was a very proud man and self-sufficiency was very important. The expression pride cometh before the fall was written with him in mind. That included the fall he took, when, at just short of 94 years old, late in the summer of 2014, he broke his hip getting out of the swimming pool in. He refused, as we had warned him numerous times, to use his cane.

Throughout his rehab, and subsequent move to assisted living, we continued to offer him all of the support we could. We visited multiple times each week, took him for walks, rides and out for meals. We included him in all of our family events. But, as is inevitable, he continued to decline. If nothing else, in the end, I could tell that I had made an impact in his life. I was his guy. Even in those last days, and in his delirium, he would be seated in his chair, stare at the ceiling, shaking, and say ‘Ron, you are going too fast’. Another time he reached out and said ‘Here Ron, take my coat’.

But that is over now, and me greatest feeling is relief. It is like a nightmare ending. Oh don’t get me wrong, it was a privilege to help him. I learned much more about my dad, and therein myself, in those last years than I ever thought possible. But the stress of watching a man I respected decline was undeniable. It’s only through the continued support and encouragement of Crystal and my family that I could continue. His suffering is now over and I am glad. We did everything we could to give him the best life and care possible. Of that I am convinced. I want to give my special thanks to the caring staff members of Sunrise and Bickford Assisted Living Facilities and Capitol City Hospice. Finally, I am also convinced that, he is finally at peace, and glad to be back with mom. Somehow, Papa without Mimi never seemed quite right.

For most of his life dad called Chicago home.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

5 + 3 =

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.