The Eulogy
I’ve, hopefully, obviously never written a eulogy before… so I google how long it should be. It said 3-5 minutes… I’m going to take longer than that. Please have your tissues handy…
I can and I will.
My dad would say this to my daughter when she was younger. They were/are both fiery aries. He’s had lots of little mantras like this over the years most of which I wish had stuck with me more. He planted a lot of seeds. But never tried to manipulate them. Just planted the seeds. You’d be hard pressed to find many people describe him as a patient man, but in this area of planting the seeds of inspiration, life lessons and trusting the process, patience was a strong suit. And I am beginning to experience the harvest. It’s also how I teach my own students.
Even the Philadelphia Eagles fans have been benefiting from “DO YOU BELIEVE?!” fondly accredited to my father.
I can and I will… probably curse and say some inappropriate things today… This is not a church service kind of eulogy. He was not a religious man and he would be in such resistance that we made such a big deal out of this for him, but he would have humbly enjoyed the party. So I will at least honor this service in his style, which luckily, and probably not surprisingly, is not unlike my own.
There seemed to be some hesitation when I shared that my mom asked me to do the service and give the eulogy for my father today, (too close to home, too hard, too emotional) but I can assure you this is the kind of thing I was built for. And while absolutely no one asked - my many scorpio placements have me built for just this kind of event, either you know or you’ll just have to trust me… (dad prepared me for…)
In my house my kids and I have what we call our “Old-lady” or “Old-man” box. It’s a place where you put the cards, pictures and mementos that mean something probably only to you, but you don’t want to just throw away. I have a whole trunk. My dad had the top drawer of his dresser.
One of the first things I did after I learned of his passing was go to that drawer and very carefully went through it… just like I did as a teenager, putting everything back the way I found it, even though, this time, I wasn’t going to get caught. I found a lot of things in that drawer that made me smile (...), but one of the things was the program from my senior play, Antigone, I was the chorus leader. It was kind of a big deal. I had a shit ton of lines and the acting was different than an average character. Stoic doesn’t give a lot of room for improvised inspired acting.
My dad wasn’t perfect, a far cry from it, but he showed up. Every play, every dance, every holiday sing, every goddamn performance. I even remember one year, I had a solo, What Child is This… He was on call, I watched it all unfold from the stage, him coming in late and standing against the wall to the right of the stage of the barn in Upland. Then getting beeped to go into work just songs before I came on. I can remember the disappointment, the frustration on his face. I know that expression viscerally to my core. I watched him walk out. He missed it, I was a middle schooler, I was hurt, but I know now, it hurt him more. My dad showed up. He brought flowers. He was ONE of my biggest cheerleaders and I don’t think I recognized that enough.
I can and I will.
I think this is the biggest crowd I have been in front of since Antigone. Because My dad showed up, you know this, because you’re here now, because at some point, he showed up for you too.
My mom asked me to do this service, not only because I am his daughter, but because of my background with mindfulness and buddhism. While neither my parents are practiced or studied in mindfulness in quite the same way I have been, they do believe in the core principles of mindfulness and philosophies of buddhism. And of course, as mentioned - they showed up, for my passions as well. This appreciation for mindfulness, however, was expanded personally for dad, on his last vacation to China. And, while this service is not a dogmatic one it felt fitting to incorporate some of my mindfulness practice into today’s service.
Mindfulness is simple, but it is not easy. And today what I am about to ask of you may be very difficult. Mindfulness asks us to pause and FEEL what is with us in the present moment without judgment but with compassion so that we may face our reality head on. And for a few moments I would like to lead you in a short meditation to do just that.
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I can and I will… tell you now how my dad not only showed up for me, my mom, my kids, for each of you, but also for life and for living… and how that is now and will continue to have a ripple effect on all of us and the people we connect with, and this earth…
Some of the ways people affect us are to show us what we don’t want to be, and that is ok, because it’s all part of it.
My dad had a temper that could scare the piss out of you, and quite literally did for me sometimes. His temper. His anger, were because he loved so deeply. He cared deeply.
He cared so deeply that this one time I had 1 cat… just one. He hated cats. He was allergic. Then, one day… we have 5 cats. He kept bringing those little fuckers home. Goldie, Ivory, Murano, Indigo…there was another one… he kept saying yes to my mom and I, he kept saving them from an otherwise ill-fate.
He cared about animals, the human rights of others, the earth, my mom, me, my children, and the things we loved… My mom and I loved cats, so he brought home cats. But I know he was grateful when I became a dog person.
If you felt his wrath, it was because he felt one of these things were being wronged.
If you were hurt, he hurt. He just didn’t know how to show it in a way that always made sense. It makes sense to me now.
I can share with you my father’s faults because I am a lot like him. We connected in this way. And I am grateful for every way in which I am like him, especially the faults because it has been my work in this lifetime to alchemize them.
He was a man of both passion and pride. When he was proud of you, you could feel it to your core, and this pride could of course get in his own way if he felt wronged. He was perfectly imperfect just as you and I are. We do not come to this earth without obstacles to unfold and I will not stand up here and pretend like he was perfect, but he absolutely did teach me how to embrace my own imperfections, in his own way, and I felt the pride from him when I transmuted them.
And of course my father was much more than his imperfections…
My dad was my teacher…
My father’s pride was palatable. He was my motivator. He is why I knew when to keep going. A compass. He taught me the value of education, of hard work, of kindness, he was a model of how to live life fully and not take it all so seriously. He taught me how to take care of myself and to embrace my independence, to a fault of course, if you know me well. If my father encouraged me, I did that shit, and I did it well.
He taught me how to drive a little motor boat in the middle of the chesapeake.
(He loved “pushing me off the edge” of a his lesson and freaking my mom out in the process)
He did this with driving too…
He taught me how to drive stick shift up that hill in the middle of Kennett square.
He taught me to love rock and roll
I remember how proud of me he would be when I could name that artist, and how that pride increased and simultaneously frustrated him once I started to be able to do it faster than him. Aerosmith, Tom Petty, CCR, Led Zeppelin (Obviously), And I could even tell the difference between Cream, Clapton, and Derrick & Dominos.
He taught me how to care about myself and the body I live in.
He taught me how to have my feelings by having his, that it was ok to be angry and still be loved.
He taught me the value of hard work, and the importance of education.
I think my favorite lesson though was one I distinctly remember - one evening when I was deeply hurt by some choices my middle school girlfriends made to not include me in an overnight they were having. It was the kind of situation I would have gone directly to my mom about to fix and help me feel better, but my mom was having one of her evenings out with her own girlfriends and my dad had just gotten home. I don’t remember the details of how it unfolded, how I came to end up talking to him about it, if he approached me, or me him, I honestly can’t even remember what was said. I can remember sitting at that dark green island in the kitchen, I can remember his demeanor. I can remember being timid about talking to him about this, about what his reaction would be. He was calm and gentle and understanding. He was timid too, unsure if he was guiding his daughter in the right direction. I have no idea what he told me, but the impact left a huge imprint on my system. I saw my dad differently. He was different and I felt I could trust him in a different way, it’s hard to explain, but it’s like I could trust he could be a human. I’m sure it was my 8th grade evolving self alongside of him that contributed to this impact. But what really stood out to me was this knowing that my dad was much more than I ever thought of him and that he was capable of change and growth. It has had a huge impact on who I am today and the value I put on the ability to change from unwanted patterns and behaviors.
He just… taught me… everything was a lesson and every lesson felt special, he made me feel special to him.
I can and I will…
Let’s use that mindfulness muscle I taught you a few moments ago and think - what did John teach you?
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And just like my dad was more than his imperfections, he was also more than a dad…
My dad was West Chester, Jakes Bar, and a volunteer firefighter. From the Philadelphia Eagles to the Chesapeake Bay.
My dad was a performer, a character in his own right. He loved his movies, his TV, valued good acting and a great performance. So much so that in retirement he has found himself in his own plays and movies. Only wanting to be involved as an extra. He just wanted to play a part in what he loved.
He was rum and cokes, air guitar and bar drumming - he was our jukebox hero. The life of the party. Unless it was the morning after.
He was an environmentalist, a feminist, a scientist, a treky, and a staunch liberal.
He was hardworking but not work loving. He worked to live, but not in that sad sense because he really LIVED. From Costa Rica to South Africa, to China… He loved his vacation time so much that not only could nothing keep him from it, it turns out he didn’t even want to come home from it… there was apparently a lot left in China he had to see.
He was the very definition of humble, he expected no tribute or thanks ever. He would hate this. But I can feel him standing just over there, to right of the stage.
He was a devoted and loyal husband. He was a Poppy.
He was a friend. Just look around. He. was. A. friend. My mom was understandably wary of a big service or a service at all in her initial shock of his passing. But I knew to my core that his friends needed to celebrate him. Because as his friends, you are my family. Every single one of you. From Rigtown to Lancaster… I have called you uncle, aunt, I have called you my 2nd parents… and your children have felt the same of him. I may have grown up an only child but my family is so big because of his love. Because he was a friend.
One more mindfulness muscle - what was my dad to you? Who was John to you? Where do you remember him? How do you remember him?
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My dad taught me how to be a friend. And that’s the real beauty of all of this. So many of you here today didn’t show up because you loved my dad, some of you didn’t even know him. You showed up because you love me. You showed up because you love my mom. You showed up because you know what this is doing to us. You showed up because you are a friend. You showed up because my dad showed up. You showed up because you BELIEVE.
We’re not supposed to come into this world to be perfect. But we are supposed to live.
Even in death… unfortunately, especially in death, my dad is teaching me so much.
I can and I will … because I am capable, competent, and confident.
Live long and prosper
