In late October of 2011, we lost my father to his 17 year battle with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. He was 68 years old. When our friends and family came to the funeral, many of them expressed that what they remembered about my relationship with him was that at times it had been strained. I understand that by acknowledging this their intent was to be considerate of me, though this awareness added to my grief.
I had visited my dad, for what would be the last time I spent with him early in October over Columbus Day weekend. He had been sick over the summer and had spent much of July and August in the hospital. It is my belief he knew his time left on this earth was short, but he did not ask me to come home or express any sense of urgency. Regardless, I told David we needed to go to Albany.
That weekend, my dad said nothing about the severity of his suffering or the prognosis of his condition. There must have been something that passed between us though, because during the visit we were in a good place and as we drove home it became clear to me I wanted to speak at his funeral.
In the days following his death, when I heard from so many people that what they remembered about our relationship was that it was conflicted, it became important to me the eulogy commemorate how I came to understand him, make transparent the depth of our relationship, and establish myself as a relevant part of his life beyond the conflict in our relationship. What follows is the eulogy I gave for my father.
The first time I brought my husband home to Albany to meet my family was for Deborah’s graduation from Holy Names. As we started to make our way through the party, I introduced him to all of the family and friends who were there. Each time I introduced him, the person he was meeting would say, “Have you met Kenny yet?” and David would reply that he hadn’t. Then they would say, “well, he’s a character.” This happened so many times that David actually asked me, “Is ‘character’ a euphemism for something?”
As an English teacher, I would teach my students that you learn about a character by what the character says, does, thinks, feels and by what other characters say about him. Over the past few days, I have been thinking about how the legacy of my father’s character is imbued in his children and grandchildren. I’ve been thinking about this because as Neil Postman once said, "Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see."
I think about how my dad loved people. He was a raging extrovert. People gave him energy. My sister, Carolyn, is much like him in this way. She will talk to anyone and tell them as much of her life story as they will listen to.
I think about how my dad was story-teller. How he had an intuitive sense of timing, suspense, humor and plot. When he told a story, he captured your undivided attention. And, he loved to tell a good story. I’m sure you all have a favorite story of his that you remember him telling you. My sister, Deborah, is much like him in this way. When she tells a story, she is entertaining. Like him, she has an intuitive sense of how to captivate an audience. If you haven’t already heard it, ask her to tell you the Popsicle story. It’s about my dad and it’s a good one. And the first time I heard her tell it was when I realized how much like my father she is.
I think about how my dad had a strong connection to his family. How he felt a responsibility and duty to all of them. He loved to talk about all of the family he’d helped get jobs, in-laws and all. I know that when he was considering career opportunities that would take him away from this area, how his family would be impacted was always a significant factor in his consideration. My brother, Anthony, is much like him in this way. Even though, I have never resided in Albany with Anthony, I have always felt we have had a strong connection. And what is extraordinary to me is Anthony’s effort in that. As a young boy, growing up 400 miles away from a sister 20 years older than him, it would be easy for him to feel a detachment from me. But, he has never given me that impression. He has always hugged me every time I visit; he has always told me about himself and asked me about myself. I think that has a lot to do with the connection to family he feels. And talking to him, I know he wants to have a big family of his own someday.
Now, to be quite honest, when I was thinking about how Anthony was like my father, it was hard to choose between that and his devastatingly good looks. Which, quite frankly, I think we all got.
I think about my Dad’s ambition. How he took what he was given and made the most of it by making something of himself. About his accomplishments, and any of you who saw his obituary, which I should mention, he wrote himself, know about his many accomplishments. I think about how he was proud of himself for making something of himself and succeeding beyond what was expected of the boys where he was from and how he did this for his family. My nephew, Justin, is much like him in this way. My dad was deliriously happy to see Justin go to college. At first, he wasn’t so sure about Justin going to an art school, but when someone he respected was considerably impressed with Pratt Institute, where Justin goes to school, he was convinced and threw the full force of his praise and support behind him. A picture Justin drew of my dad and McKenzie hangs framed in the living room.
I think about my Dad’s focus and determination and how he could be persuasive. All characteristics of a good salesman. And my dad was quite a salesman. I remember one time we had a garage sale and he sold vacuum cleaner parts to someone who didn’t even have that type of vacuum. My nephew, Tyler, is much like him in this way. My mom had a garage sale over the summer and Tyler was selling his toys to the kids who came for more than what he paid for them. He also wouldn’t let anyone walk away without buying something.
I think about how my dad was a charmer. He could charm a cobra with his playful nature. My niece, Katrina, is like him in this way. She is uninhibited in her quest for attention. She loves being the center of attention and everyone loves it when she is. She will dance and play and smile and smirk in a way that is irresistible. And in this way, entrance everyone around her.
I think about how he was a risk-taker and adventurous. He left home when he was 17 and joined the Navy. He wasn’t afraid to take chances like for example when he left his home in Auburn and moved his family to Albany to pursue his career. My daughter, Emily, is like him in this way. At 13 months, she is fearless. Just recently, at the playground, she went down the slide all by her self. It brings me comfort when I think about how my dad noticed this about her too, the last time he saw her.
But what strikes me about his character is how it evolved over his life. When he was a younger man, he was restless. He was burning with purpose and passion. As he aged and the illness took its toll, he slowed down. It, wiped him out in a way that nothing before ever did or could have. I know this was difficult for him to accept. But, my dad was always a reflective man; some of you may know this from the poetry that he wrote. And being a reflective man, I saw how he grew from this experience. I think it must have taken great strength and courage to do so. One month before signing the Emancipation Proclamation, President Lincoln said to Congress, “The dogmas of the quiet past, are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew.” In my life, there have been many times when I have had to act anew and think anew. This being one of them. I can tell you that it has taken great courage and strength to grow from the experience. That is the legacy of my father.
These are the reasons why we loved him. These are the ways we are connected to him. These are the living messages from him that we will carry forward with us from this day to a time he will not see.
It took me by surprise that after I shared it with a friend when I got home, she asked me where I was in it. My intention, as I explained it to her, was that the last paragraph represented the way I was like him. Only after months of introspection did I realize the entire piece reflected the ways in which I see the two of us as being connected. It occurred to me my relationship with my father was strained because it was complex. By embracing this, I was able to accept not only my dad for the person he was, but also myself for the person like him that I am. I let go of the anger that characterized the continuing conflict in our relationship. I grew to appreciate the things I admired about him while forgiving the things I did not. This is how I evolved. This is how I grew from experience. This is how we arrived in a a good place in the end, a place where I accepted who he was, embraced who he was not and understood that he was the best father to me he knew how to and was capable of being.
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