Panegyric


Pic of the Day:  Kilkenny Castle.

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O quam cito transit gloria mundi.

Translation: How fast passes away the glory of this world.

Thomas à Kempis, Imitation of Christ

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Today the article will simply be short one or two sentence remembrances of my father, who passed away on Tuesday at the age of 67.  His funeral and cremation were today, January 13th.

God rest his soul.

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I saw my father for the final time today.

He was laid to rest today, cremated, as he wanted.

He loved his wife and children and grandchildren.

He was a man who was at once terse and amiable,  curt and genial.

He worked hard all his life, at jobs most people don’t want to do, and he never complained.

He could be brutally honest if the occasion called for it.  The man was no shrinking violet.

He really enjoyed sports, it was his outlet.  He used to coach basketball when my brothers and I were still in school.

He was, unlike me, a conservative, but always encouraged us to be free thinkers.  He was no ideologue.

He really disliked the fact that I never learned to drive.

He was a patient man, but not so patient that we could ever procrastinate or dawdle.

He was proud of our achievements, great and small.

He always made a show of doting over his grandchildren.  He loved them so much.  He thought they were the best kids in the world. And he was right.

He played the horses for years. He realized the game was rigged, but played and won a bit, but when he and his brother Bill started to lose more regularly, they both got out of horsebetting.

He and his brother Bill played lottery scratch tickets after that.  He won there too.  They both did.

He worked in the stock market as a registered rep for years.

He drank a lot when he did that, when I was young, but it didn’t affect the way he treated us, as I recall.  I wasn’t mistreated, nor were my brothers.

Mom thought it was too much, and after some years, he found she was right, and he quit drinking.

I was proud of him for being able to do that, we all were.  Prouder still after I fought off that demon myself.  Tis a hard thing to do.  Tis.

I think he was proud of me when I quit drinking too. Kinda thing a man can be both sad and happy about.  Happy that we were both strong enough to fight off that addiction, sad that we were weak enough to fall into it in the first place.

I always felt I let the man down by not being a success.  I’ve worked hard, and done well in many places, but that does not guarantee success.  All I can do is keep trying.

I loved the man, everyone who met him did.  Friends and family from everywhere came to say goodbye to the man.  The amount of people who came to share warm memories of this wonderful man was astounding.

I would like to thank everyone who came to say goodbye to my father, for showing they cared enough to be there for him and his family.  On behalf of his loving wife, his sisters and brother, and his children, and his children’s children, I thank all of them for their warmth and caring, for being there to remember him and to pay their final respects.  It warmed the hearts of all of us to see the outpouring of love and affection towards this man.

Pain shared is pain lessened. Grief shared eases the pain of all those who grieve.  Tears shed show pain over joys lost, and love for the people who that joy was shared with.

Thank you for sharing you life with us, Dad.  We all loved you.

Goodbye.

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That’s it from here, America.  G’night.

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