The Eulogy
At the end of the summer of 1998, a great looking 25 year old kid that I worked with shot himself in the head behind a 7/11 in Tustin. The day before, he had been put on suspension at work for drinking on the job. I guess he couldn't take whatever pressure came with that and he ended what had always seemed to me to be a charmed life.
Hundreds of people that we had worked with showed up for his funeral. His family invited anyone that wanted to speak to come to the podium and do so. I so badly wanted to go up there and let his parents know what a special kid they had and how destroyed I was that I didn't see this coming. That I didn't know he was that close to such a horrible decision. As family and friends each took turns at the podium, I realized that it was going to be impossible for me to get up there and speak. I was so full of sadness that it seemed to seep out of every pore. The services ended and I couldn't seize the opportunity to say some great things about a great friend.
Knowing this, I was determined to get through a proper eulogy for my father.
Upon my return home, The Commander wanted to show me the Hawaiian shirt that she had purchased earlier for me. It was a nice print. Not too loud but it just enough flair that my dad would have probably worn it. Then she pulled out a little surprise for me.
She had purchased a matching outfit for the Chicken and I.
I thanked her for her help and quickly went to the computer. I spent most of the night there. Sometimes laughing and sometimes crying. But always with the thought that I needed to make sure I got everything out that I needed to.
Here's what I ended up with:
My father took me to a lot of funerals over the years. He’d even pull me out of school sometimes to go with him (which I wasn’t about to complain about). Sometime during these days he would eventually tell me – “Son, you don’t go to a funeral for the dead. You go there for the folks they left behind.” I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you all taking time to come out here for us today.
This past week has been like a thunderstorm passing through. Sometimes, it is dark and rainy. And sometimes, it is just partly cloudy with a slight chance of showers. But throughout the week, memories of my father have been like lightening – they come out of nowhere and are brilliant for a moment before fading away.
I’d like to tell you all a little about my father and for those of you that knew him, I hope that you’ll do the same. For those of you that aren’t comfortable speaking today, I hope that some other time you can share your story or two with my brother and I.
Fate has a way of circling back on a man and taken him by surprise. Man sees things differently and different times of his life.
When I was five, I thought he was the greatest guy in the world.
When I was fifteen, I was thinking about how to keep him from embarrassing me.
When I was twenty-five….well, I was still thinking about how to keep him from embarrassing me.
But now at thirty-five, I’m back to thinking he was the greatest guy in the world.
That lightbulb went on for me on October 12th, 2003 when my daughter was born. I had two thoughts flash across my brain that moment. First, was “that was the most beautiful thing I will ever see. I will love this baby more than anything in the world.” And the second thought was, “If I feel this way about this new baby, then my parents must feel this way about me.”
Knowing this completely changed my perspective about my father forever.
My father had a penchant for spoiling us rotten. There weren’t too many times that we didn’t hear – “It was only money” before getting from him whatever was the latest and greatest.
But more than the “things” that he purchased for us, I am thankful for the other gifts from him that we received along the way.
First and foremost, he instilled in us a supreme work ethic. And I think I can trace that back to something as simple as making the bed. Every Sunday when I was living with my father, we would change the sheets on both my bed and his bed. I was never too thrilled about this and if I wasn’t holding up my end of the deal he would say “I am not going to send you out into this world without you knowing how to properly make your bed!” And that would be my cue to stop complaining or screwing around and finish getting the beds made.
Another gift from my father was patience. He did not sweat the small stuff. I remember one day when my friends used my bb gun to shoot out a car window of a neighbor one day before he came home to work. The neighbor yelled at me “When your father gets home, I’m coming right over to tell him what happened!” I sat outside and waiting for my Dad to pull up – hoping that I would have a chance to plead my case before the neighbor stormed across the street. When my Dad pulled up, the neighbor flew out of the house to catch him before I could talk to him….and I thought I was sunk. Maybe a week’s restriction heading my way? Maybe the Intellevision would be taken out of my room? What would happen???
The neighbor lashes into my Dad telling him the story of his awful bb gun toting son that shot out his car windshield. As the neighbor wrapped up the story, my Dad looked at me and asked “Was it an accident?” I nodded yes. My Dad told the neighbor, “Get it fixed and send me the bill” and left the neighbor standing there with his mouth open. My Dad could tell that I was upset about the situation and warmly said, “please don’t let that happen again. I don’t like that guy and I don’t want to cut him any more checks.”
I really appreciated my Dad’s patience after that.
His final gift for us was something really simple and so appreciated today. He prepared us for his passing. He knew he didn’t have much time left and every time he was with one of us, he gave us additional instructions to be carried out after his passing.
“Don’t get anything less than high blue book for my truck” or “Moondoggie and Gidget have until September to clean out the garage” were just some of the things mentioned to us over the last couple of months. He did everything he could to make sure that the most painful moment of our lives was as easy as he could make it.
There were many things that I enjoyed doing with my dad when I was a kid and I just wanted to share some of them with you today.
* Watching the Gong Show with my dad and dancing like Mean Gene the Dancing Machine.
* Going to Dooley’s in Long Beach and getting a couple of hot dogs.
* Going to work with my Dad.
* Going to the movies
* Going to Bolsa Chica beach every other weekend during summer for the entire day.
* Getting donuts and watching Popeye & Friends on Sunday mornings.
* Getting either a lemon meringue pie or a bunny cake for my birthday.
My brother and I have started the exercise of going through my father’s belongings. And every couple of minutes, one of us would say “Hey, check this out!” and be amazed by some treasure that he had left for us. One item that really touched me was a father of the year proclamation that we had given him in 1982. For some reason, it was sitting on his dining room table.
Another treasure that I found this week was a videotape with his name on it. If this story rings a bell with anyone here, I’d love to being able to put it in some sort of context. It appeared to be part of some sort of presentation skills workshop shot in 2000. I watched as my father started out a bit nervous but then delivered what was just a stellar presentation. Part of my role at work is to facilitate classes and deliver presentations. As this presentation unfolded, I found myself in awe of what an amazing job he was doing.
The presentation ends and he gets feedback from the class facilitator as well as the other people attending. One of his peers commented that “Gene made great eye contact with everyone.” My father took off those coke bottle glasses of his and said “That’s funny. Because I can’t see any f-ing one of you.”
As far as I’m concerned, it is a tape worth its weight in gold.
Among the many different thoughts that I’ve had this past week, one of them comes my grandmother’s preaching – In everything, give thanks. And although this has been a very sad week, there are many people that I am thankful for and I’d like to recognize some of them that made this week a little easier.
Moondoggie and Gidget – Your kindness this week will never be forgotten by either Number 2 or myself.
Mr. and Mrs. Stream – Thank you both for looking after the two of us this week.
M – Thank you for being there for my brother on Thursday.
The Rabbi and Galaxy Girl – Thanks for being my wingmen this week while the Commander was at Space Camp.
The Big Guy and Buffalo Bob – Thanks for just letting me talk to you about my Pop.
There are some folks that I work with that have been amazing. Thanks for just letting me talk when I needed to. It is people like you that make it worthwhile to go to work every day.
A & E – thanks for helping the Commander with that amazing tribute to my father and the VW family. I know how much work and effort that took and I love it. My Dad would have been amazed at your work.
The entire Big Daddy family – You have always treated me like either a son or a brother and in this week when I needed help the most, you all were there for me.
My grandparents and my uncle – Thank you for your ongoing support. We think we’ve done exactly what Dad would have wanted us to do. I know that it was a tough phone call to make to me but I want you to know that I’m happy I heard the news about my Dad from you.
Mom and J – Thank you both for everything.
Number 2 – I have never been more proud to have you as a brother.
The Commander – Even though you were 2000 miles away when this happened, I’ve never felt more close to you. Thank you for everything that you do everyday.
The final person I have to thank is my little Chicken. She was the light of my Dad’s life these past few months and has the ability to chase all of the dark clouds away. Chicken, if I can be half the father that your Grandfather was, you will have the best dad in the world.
Thank you all very much for coming. I can't express how much it means to me.
At 3 a.m., I hit File>Print and I've got maybe the most important Word document that I've ever created in my hands.
Gotta shut off my brain now and get some sleep.
VW
Hundreds of people that we had worked with showed up for his funeral. His family invited anyone that wanted to speak to come to the podium and do so. I so badly wanted to go up there and let his parents know what a special kid they had and how destroyed I was that I didn't see this coming. That I didn't know he was that close to such a horrible decision. As family and friends each took turns at the podium, I realized that it was going to be impossible for me to get up there and speak. I was so full of sadness that it seemed to seep out of every pore. The services ended and I couldn't seize the opportunity to say some great things about a great friend.
Knowing this, I was determined to get through a proper eulogy for my father.
Upon my return home, The Commander wanted to show me the Hawaiian shirt that she had purchased earlier for me. It was a nice print. Not too loud but it just enough flair that my dad would have probably worn it. Then she pulled out a little surprise for me.
She had purchased a matching outfit for the Chicken and I.
I thanked her for her help and quickly went to the computer. I spent most of the night there. Sometimes laughing and sometimes crying. But always with the thought that I needed to make sure I got everything out that I needed to.
Here's what I ended up with:
My father took me to a lot of funerals over the years. He’d even pull me out of school sometimes to go with him (which I wasn’t about to complain about). Sometime during these days he would eventually tell me – “Son, you don’t go to a funeral for the dead. You go there for the folks they left behind.” I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you all taking time to come out here for us today.
This past week has been like a thunderstorm passing through. Sometimes, it is dark and rainy. And sometimes, it is just partly cloudy with a slight chance of showers. But throughout the week, memories of my father have been like lightening – they come out of nowhere and are brilliant for a moment before fading away.
I’d like to tell you all a little about my father and for those of you that knew him, I hope that you’ll do the same. For those of you that aren’t comfortable speaking today, I hope that some other time you can share your story or two with my brother and I.
Fate has a way of circling back on a man and taken him by surprise. Man sees things differently and different times of his life.
When I was five, I thought he was the greatest guy in the world.
When I was fifteen, I was thinking about how to keep him from embarrassing me.
When I was twenty-five….well, I was still thinking about how to keep him from embarrassing me.
But now at thirty-five, I’m back to thinking he was the greatest guy in the world.
That lightbulb went on for me on October 12th, 2003 when my daughter was born. I had two thoughts flash across my brain that moment. First, was “that was the most beautiful thing I will ever see. I will love this baby more than anything in the world.” And the second thought was, “If I feel this way about this new baby, then my parents must feel this way about me.”
Knowing this completely changed my perspective about my father forever.
My father had a penchant for spoiling us rotten. There weren’t too many times that we didn’t hear – “It was only money” before getting from him whatever was the latest and greatest.
But more than the “things” that he purchased for us, I am thankful for the other gifts from him that we received along the way.
First and foremost, he instilled in us a supreme work ethic. And I think I can trace that back to something as simple as making the bed. Every Sunday when I was living with my father, we would change the sheets on both my bed and his bed. I was never too thrilled about this and if I wasn’t holding up my end of the deal he would say “I am not going to send you out into this world without you knowing how to properly make your bed!” And that would be my cue to stop complaining or screwing around and finish getting the beds made.
Another gift from my father was patience. He did not sweat the small stuff. I remember one day when my friends used my bb gun to shoot out a car window of a neighbor one day before he came home to work. The neighbor yelled at me “When your father gets home, I’m coming right over to tell him what happened!” I sat outside and waiting for my Dad to pull up – hoping that I would have a chance to plead my case before the neighbor stormed across the street. When my Dad pulled up, the neighbor flew out of the house to catch him before I could talk to him….and I thought I was sunk. Maybe a week’s restriction heading my way? Maybe the Intellevision would be taken out of my room? What would happen???
The neighbor lashes into my Dad telling him the story of his awful bb gun toting son that shot out his car windshield. As the neighbor wrapped up the story, my Dad looked at me and asked “Was it an accident?” I nodded yes. My Dad told the neighbor, “Get it fixed and send me the bill” and left the neighbor standing there with his mouth open. My Dad could tell that I was upset about the situation and warmly said, “please don’t let that happen again. I don’t like that guy and I don’t want to cut him any more checks.”
I really appreciated my Dad’s patience after that.
His final gift for us was something really simple and so appreciated today. He prepared us for his passing. He knew he didn’t have much time left and every time he was with one of us, he gave us additional instructions to be carried out after his passing.
“Don’t get anything less than high blue book for my truck” or “Moondoggie and Gidget have until September to clean out the garage” were just some of the things mentioned to us over the last couple of months. He did everything he could to make sure that the most painful moment of our lives was as easy as he could make it.
There were many things that I enjoyed doing with my dad when I was a kid and I just wanted to share some of them with you today.
* Watching the Gong Show with my dad and dancing like Mean Gene the Dancing Machine.
* Going to Dooley’s in Long Beach and getting a couple of hot dogs.
* Going to work with my Dad.
* Going to the movies
* Going to Bolsa Chica beach every other weekend during summer for the entire day.
* Getting donuts and watching Popeye & Friends on Sunday mornings.
* Getting either a lemon meringue pie or a bunny cake for my birthday.
My brother and I have started the exercise of going through my father’s belongings. And every couple of minutes, one of us would say “Hey, check this out!” and be amazed by some treasure that he had left for us. One item that really touched me was a father of the year proclamation that we had given him in 1982. For some reason, it was sitting on his dining room table.
Another treasure that I found this week was a videotape with his name on it. If this story rings a bell with anyone here, I’d love to being able to put it in some sort of context. It appeared to be part of some sort of presentation skills workshop shot in 2000. I watched as my father started out a bit nervous but then delivered what was just a stellar presentation. Part of my role at work is to facilitate classes and deliver presentations. As this presentation unfolded, I found myself in awe of what an amazing job he was doing.
The presentation ends and he gets feedback from the class facilitator as well as the other people attending. One of his peers commented that “Gene made great eye contact with everyone.” My father took off those coke bottle glasses of his and said “That’s funny. Because I can’t see any f-ing one of you.”
As far as I’m concerned, it is a tape worth its weight in gold.
Among the many different thoughts that I’ve had this past week, one of them comes my grandmother’s preaching – In everything, give thanks. And although this has been a very sad week, there are many people that I am thankful for and I’d like to recognize some of them that made this week a little easier.
Moondoggie and Gidget – Your kindness this week will never be forgotten by either Number 2 or myself.
Mr. and Mrs. Stream – Thank you both for looking after the two of us this week.
M – Thank you for being there for my brother on Thursday.
The Rabbi and Galaxy Girl – Thanks for being my wingmen this week while the Commander was at Space Camp.
The Big Guy and Buffalo Bob – Thanks for just letting me talk to you about my Pop.
There are some folks that I work with that have been amazing. Thanks for just letting me talk when I needed to. It is people like you that make it worthwhile to go to work every day.
A & E – thanks for helping the Commander with that amazing tribute to my father and the VW family. I know how much work and effort that took and I love it. My Dad would have been amazed at your work.
The entire Big Daddy family – You have always treated me like either a son or a brother and in this week when I needed help the most, you all were there for me.
My grandparents and my uncle – Thank you for your ongoing support. We think we’ve done exactly what Dad would have wanted us to do. I know that it was a tough phone call to make to me but I want you to know that I’m happy I heard the news about my Dad from you.
Mom and J – Thank you both for everything.
Number 2 – I have never been more proud to have you as a brother.
The Commander – Even though you were 2000 miles away when this happened, I’ve never felt more close to you. Thank you for everything that you do everyday.
The final person I have to thank is my little Chicken. She was the light of my Dad’s life these past few months and has the ability to chase all of the dark clouds away. Chicken, if I can be half the father that your Grandfather was, you will have the best dad in the world.
Thank you all very much for coming. I can't express how much it means to me.
At 3 a.m., I hit File>Print and I've got maybe the most important Word document that I've ever created in my hands.
Gotta shut off my brain now and get some sleep.
VW
posted by JVW at 6:09 PM
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