Day 395

It’s been a year since Dad died. It still doesn’t seem real. I keep hoping that reality will readjust itself, that I’ll wake up and this whole pandemic will just have been a bad dream or a horrible movie.

This morning we finally had Dad’s funeral. In order to get to Mom’s house before mass, we had leave during rush hour. I do not do well in traffic, which is why I often plan my travels around rush hour. This morning, there was no way around it unless we left at 5, and that was just too early. As expected, we got slammed with traffic on the BQE, although the gps did say we were on the fastest route. It took a little over two hours to get to Queens.

When we arrived, I gave Mom the pictures I printed of Dad and she arranged them on the cork board. Together, she, G3, my brother, and I walked to church. It was a sad solemn walk. When we arrived the priest was kind and friendly. He offered words of comfort to me and G3. He assured G3 that his grandfather was still with him, and that he would still be a part of his life.

The funeral felt surreal. I’ve never been to a funeral without a coffin, but we did bring Dad’s ashes because Mom wanted the priest to bless them. I’ve also never been to a funeral that took place so long after a person died. I had difficulty paying attention to the sermon. My eyes kept wandering to the pictures of Dad, and my mind kept drifting to happier times. I remembered sitting in that same church when I was kid, and dad joking about one thing or another when he was supposed to be listening to the homily. I kept expecting to hear his voice. But, of course, I didn’t.

It’s been so long since I’ve been to a Catholic Mass. But after years of indoctrination, I expected it all to come back to me, and it did. Except, I was surprised to find that they’ve changed some of the words. I was happy I was wearing a mask. No one could hear my muffled responses that would have been correct twenty years ago, but were now slightly off. 

Toward the end of mass, my son and I were called up to the alter to deliver our eulogies. Technically speaking, I suppose they weren’t eulogies since a true eulogy is supposed to touch on a person’s entire life. Both of us spoke about Dad the way we knew him best. I was proud of G3 for wanting to write something about his grandfather. I was even prouder that he got up in front of the church to read. He did a beautiful job, and I admit I was a little jealous that he was able to get through it without a single tear. He was brilliantly composed. I, on the other hand, was a blubbering mess. I sobbed from the first word and couldn’t stop.

After mass, I was happy to meet some of my dad’s former colleagues. They had kind words to say about him. Many mentioned his laughter. Dad certainly did laugh a lot, and loud. And he had a great sense of humor. One of his friends gave G3 pictures of Dad and the guys he used to hang out with. G3 once commented that he didn’t think grandpa had friends because only kids had friends. The pictures showed him that Dad did have a close circle of people who cared about him. 

Friends of my Dad’s from my brother’s Boy Scout days were also there. One woman also suffered a terrible COVID loss when her husband died. Her touching words — remembering my dad and thanking me for my stories — brought me touch of comfort which I desperately needed.

Mom’s family also came and I’m glad because they brought Mom some comfort.

So thank you to everyone who came today. Mom and I greatly appreciate you being there. And to those of you who couldn’t be there, thank you for your thoughtful emails and messages last night and this morning.

G3 and I did not go to the repast. I think Mom was a little disappointed. But it was going to be at a restaurant and G3 is not yet vaccinated and I’ve only just had my shot. We’ve been so over the top careful with G3, I didn’t want to take any chances now. Since we didn’t join the group, Mom gave me money and told me to please buy G3 lunch when we got back to New Jersey. G3 and I agreed that the only appropriate lunch on such an emotionally taxing day was ice cream. We each got a banana spilt. I think Dad would have approved.

Speaking of my shot, my arm is in terrible agony from the vaccine. I didn’t sleep at all last night. The pain so was so excruciating that Advil did nothing to quell it. All night I kept trying to readjust my body, trying to find a position that would alleviate the pain. I didn’t succeed. When I woke up, the pain had spread to my lower neck and my chest. At least the other side effects I was feeling yesterday — back pain, nausea, dizziness, fatigue — were practically gone today. My back still hurts, but not as badly. Driving — a manual car —with one arm was a bit of a challenge. But I managed. I can now lift my arm at least high enough to type comfortably, and the pain my neck and chest has shrunk back to my shoulder. Hopefully, tomorrow the pain will subside a bit more.

I’ve been asked to share the eulogies that my son and I wrote, so here they are.

Grandpa’s Eulogy

Through out my life my grandfather loved me.

He quit his job for me. He paid for things I loved for me. 

Before I was born, he got me the book The Fourteen Bears of Summer and Winter. We it read almost every night.

He gave me a house to spend my summers in, splashing around in the water. 

In the house, we had Easter and talks about going to Disney

One time, when I came home from a playdate, I asked him if we could go to Disney. When I came out of the shower the plane tickets were booked.

I later was able to convince him to to go back two years later.

He always made waffles and pancakes in BB-8 and Micky mouse shapes when I came over.

He paid for my taekwondo  gear and if he hadn’t sent me a text that said, “I will be there in spirit” I may not be #1 in the virtual world for weapons.

He made a coin collection for me. I have added 4 more quarters to the collection.

When we went to the Museum of Natural History he got me a wonderful bald eagle stuffed animal. 

One morning, I asked if we could go to a Mets game and in a few more days the tickets were paid for. We went twice. Before the games, we would go to a diner for pancakes.

He and Nona bought most of my Ralph Lauren clothes.

We enjoyed doing legos together to make things like an At-Ats and Batman’s car.

He took me to a shooting event for Cub Scouts  

Some of the last gifts he got me was a bike, a radio, and a tablet 

I love my tablet. I ride my bike all the time. And my radio is good for music and decor. I can listen to Billy Joel in my room and think about Grandpa.

Dad’s Eulogy

I’m a writer. This should be easy. Finding the right words to convey my feelings are what I do best. I always have something to say, and maybe that’s what’s making this a challenge. I’ve been writing about Dad for over a year. I’ve taxed my memory and told every story I could remember. You’ve heard about our endless summer days at the beach when I was a child. You know that Daddy always bought Mom daffodils on the first day of spring. You’ve read about Dad taking me sledding and the sled that he excitedly passed on to my son. So how do I take thousands of words, hundreds of memories, and distill them down to a few important remembrances. I can’t. It’s not possible. So I will tell a story instead.

As a child, Dad always wanted a grandfather to love. One who would spend time with him. It always saddened him that he missed out on that experience, that relationship that would have meant so much to him. As he grew up, he promised himself that if he were someday fortunate enough to have a grandchild, he would be the grandfather he always wanted. He kept that promise and until he got sick, he and my son were practically inseparable. I’m not sure two people ever loved each other more. My son only had to make a wish and Dad granted it. One of the things they enjoyed doing most was watching movies. They both loved superhero movies. If my son saw a trailer for one, he’d immediately turn to me and say, “I’m going to watch that with Grandpa.” There was never any question. It was just a matter of when. Mostly, they watched Marvel movies, and when Dad died and we got Disney Plus, my son watched the movies over and over again until I suggested that we watch them together. My son was surprised. I’m not a movie person. I especially had no interest in superheroes, but Dad wasn’t here and my son needed someone to fill the void — even partially. I could never replace Dad, but Dad wouldn’t have wanted my son to watch any new movies alone. He needed someone to share his interest.

As a father, Dad always took an interest in the things my brother and I did. He coached my softball team for years. After long exhausting days at work, he’d come home, change into jeans and take me out to play basketball or have a catch. And he always came to watch my games. For my brother, he went camping with the Boy Scouts.  Of course, I couldn’t go on those trips, they were for boys only. So all I remember is him grumbling about them. From where I stood as a child, I seriously thought he hated camping. So I was surprised years later — when my son joined Cub Scouts — to hear my father speak fondly about those trips to the woods. A few years ago, my father sent my son to Cub Scout day camp at Baiting Hollow out on Long Island. That spring, before registering him, we went to visit the camp. My father lit up the moment he stepped out of the car. He reminisced enthusiastically about his time there years ago with my brother. His excitement was infectious. But still, I couldn’t understand how he could go from grumbling about camping to being so sentimental about it. 

What I realize now, is he may have hated camping, but he loved his son and he wanted to spend time with him. Camping was not something my father ever would have done on his own, but over the years, being able to share those moments with my brother enabled him to find some joy, some pleasure in the activity. I didn’t fully understand this until about the eighth Marvel movie I watched with my son cuddled up next to me. I expected to hate the movies, but little by little, aided my by son’s enthusiasm, I found myself drawn in to Marvel Universe. 

Over the years, Dad taught me many things. He taught me how to hit a baseball. He taught me how to drive. He taught me to love traveling and history. But most importantly, he taught me how to be a loving and present parent. And a big part of that is taking an interest in things that otherwise I would have wanted no part of.#