I'm slowly coming up for air since the death of my dear daddy last week. The funeral Mass was lovely and my brothers and I managed to do our parts without totally breaking down. They each did readings and I played my flute. As someone said - we had an angel on our shoulders, helping us through and I believe it's true.As is often the case with funerals - we get in touch with folks we haven't for a while. Stories are told, remembrances shared, there is laughter, and, of course, tears.
I wanted to share the remembrance that my brothers and I put together for the funeral - it was authored by my brother Don with input from Bob and I:
We come together today in sadness at the loss of our father, but not to mourn. Instead, we celebrate a life lived well and to the fullest. Dad would insist on nothing less today.
One of the many reasons we loved Dad was his expansive spirit. He was not a gregarious man. Nevertheless, he made a sincere effort to get to know everyone he met, to hear their story, to seek out their opinion. But this was no shrinking flower. He loved banter and debate as well. In the process, he became friends with many, many people throughout his life.
The foundation of his life was his 54-year marriage to Mom. Their relationship, born of a blind date, blossomed into a love large enough to envelop all of us in its warmth. But even as we always felt secure in Mom and Dad’s love, we never forgot for one moment that their marriage was the rock upon which the family was built.
With quick wit and formidable intellect, he had the answer before we even knew how to ask the question. The crank telephone was high technology when he grew up, yet as a retired man, Dad learned to use a computer and the Internet. He became proficient enough to share his newfound skills by volunteering for his friends at RHCI – miracle workers who gave him the gift of continued mobility for many years.
Dad was always there to support us in a time of worry or pain, and he insisted that his children stand ready always to do the same for one another. He said, “they’re your family, and there are going to be times when they’re all you’ll have to fall back on.” We had no idea how deeply he meant it. We do now.
There was also great wisdom. We were the beneficiaries of his insight and guidance, but that didn’t mean Dad was going to provide the answers or fight the battles. That was the starting point beyond which we were expected to do for ourselves. It was at once comforting and very, very challenging.
Dignity was his life’s work and his greatest achievement: The dignity of putting forth one’s best effort; of honest work despite adversity; of putting one foot in front of the other, despite advancing age which made that simple act ever more difficult with each passing year. He never complained. He never wondered, “why?” As he had done throughout his life, Dad went about the task of making the situation better with great determination. He was a winner in the best sense of the word.
We have truly been twice blessed: By having known Dad’s love for so many years... and, more importantly, for having been the children of such an extraordinary father.
The photo at top was shared by one of my cousins. It's my Dad at about age four and his sister Bette (Merrill) Wasserboehr who passed away several years ago. My guess is the photo dates to 1929-ish.
How cute were they? My Aunt Bette was an artist and always an incredibly stylish woman. Even at about age seven or eight, she was quite chic, no? Family lore has it that she used to beat on him mercilessly until he got big enough to make her stop. This must have been one of their good days! In truth though, he adored his sister, and their eldest brother, Bud, who died 20 or so years ago. We know there was quite a reunion going on in heaven this week.
