In Memoriam: My Dad

My beloved dad passed away on July 20 after a brief and sudden illness. Here is his obituary if you’d like to learn more about him. This is what I read at his funeral on July 25.

Leaning on him in 1972 and 2009, and every year between and since

You’ve heard my sister Sally talk about Dad’s love of the Fire Department, and my brother Larry talk about his love of Camp Gorham. My job? “Talk about Dad’s love of family for 3-5 minutes.”

I make my living as a writer and I’ve never gotten a more intimidating assignment. On the morning I wrote these remarks, I took a walk first to clear my head, looked up to Heaven, and said, “Jeez, Dad, not so much source material please!”

I mean, I could do five minutes alone on Dad’s relationship with Uncle Ray, a guy who looks so much like my father that when I walked into the house Wednesday morning and saw him standing in the kitchen, I thought, “Whoa, Dad’s better!” The two dark haired boys from Utica had so many exploits together over the years, most of which I am pretty sure they haven’t told their kids about.

Or I could do five minutes on his relationship with Mom’s family: Aunt Margaret and her husband Jack, in whom my dad found a kindred soul for shenanigans, and the fabulous Forbes boys. Then there’s Mom’s adored sister Eunice, whom we call Aunt Noonie. Particularly in the last few years, Dad has been a pillar of support for Noonie, whether driving her to medical appointments, balancing her checkbook, or admonishing her “Eunice! You don’t need so many dang catalogs coming into this house!”

I’d have to mention the golf family, the buddies with whom Dad spent some of his very happiest hours walking the links. Dad loved golf, but when he talked to me about his games, it was clear that the camaraderie at the 19th hole was where it was at for him.

And then there’s the Branford Road Bunch. What to say about the families on the street where Mom and Dad raised us and lived for 45 years? Well, for starters, you didn’t have one mom and dad there. You had ten, all equally empowered to dole out punishment when you stepped out of line. Second, you knew you were accepted in the neighborhood if, upon returning from vacation, there was either a ceramic toilet commode on your front lawn, or the insignia of your favorite sports team’s most hated rival affixed to your garage. The tight-knit friendships Dad shared with the Fitzs, Clines, Steins, Hookes, Wormuths and more were a model I’ve tried to recreate in my adult life.

It was inside that home on Branford Road where Dad impressed upon Sally, Larry, and me the values by which he lived: hard work, honesty, loyalty, and a sense of humor. He was our cheerleader, our taskmaster, our hero, and he showed his love with every action.

Dad’s love for us extended over time to his children’s partners, the three people who have showed my siblings and me unending support in the past weeks. And how could it not?

My husband Andrew said, “Go to Rochester for as long as you need, I’ll take care of everything at home.” Sal’s boyfriend Rich always managed to be exactly where we needed him to be, whenever we needed him, with a giant smile and a warm hug. Larry’s wife Shelley was actually Dad’s favorite daughter, since she didn’t sass him nearly as much as Sally and me. Her loving care for Dad throughout their relationship and especially in his final weeks defies all description.

Now if you take that overflowing fatherly love and multiply it by a million, you will start to have a sense of the scale of how Dad felt about his eight grandchildren. Your passions were his passions, your successes his successes, and if you faced a challenge, believe me, Grandpa felt it way worse than you did. Because I live in California, there was a risk that I could be disconnected from the lives of my brothers and sisters’ kids. But just like Dad was Google Maps before the technology was invented, he was a Facebook feed, keeping me informed through calls and letters every week about what the kids were up to.

Here is just a sample of what I have in a box of letters from Dad at home in Oakland:

Photos of Dad having his (slightly surreptitious) annual behind-the-scenes tour at one of Dan’s fireworks shows
Architectural drawings by Ryan, which Dad copied for me so he could keep the original
Letters telling me about Katie’s latest promotion in her budding travel industry career
Every article about every athletic achievement in every sport by Zachary
A slightly befuddled letter about Shannon’s senior year college theater showcase
Multiple editions of the college newspaper of which Tristan has been an editor

And when I got to Rochester a few weeks ago, there on Dad’s desk was an envelope full of our older daughter’s engineering drawings, and a program from our younger daughter’s 2015 summer ballet intensive. I assume that Sally and Larry got to discuss those at length with Dad.

He adored you just as much as you guys adored him. But you knew that already.

I will close with a few hopelessly inadequate words about our mom. As much as our engineer Dad put all the systems and procedures in place for their lives to run smoothly, it was my kind, gentle, and generous mom who broke Dad’s heart wide open back in 1958 and made it possible for all the love inside to flow out. Theirs was a true partnership of complementary personalities, and together they created magic for their children and grandchildren. I pray that Dad’s magic will continue to surround Mom in the weeks, months, and years ahead.

Thank you, Dad, for everything you’ve done for all of us. We love you.

Dad volunteered as a fireman in the town we lived for 45 years, and the Brighton Fire Department did him incredible honor on Monday. His casket rode in the rain on the back of Engine #5 all the way to church, then past his old station where the trucks were pulled out, lights flashing, and finally under a ladder truck into the cemetery. Nothing would have pleased him more.

I’m back home in California and going into hibernation for a little while, but want to thank everyone who has been so kind and supportive to me and my whole family in these past surreal six weeks. We are so very grateful.