A Eulogy for a Father

For most people, the new year is filled with the promise of new beginnings. But for those of us who lost loved ones during the holiday season, the mood can remain more melancholy. My father died the day after Thanksgiving. Despite his numerous medical issues, he had been stable for years, so his passing during a hospital stay that aimed to heal him felt sudden and unexpected.

About an hour before he died, I was holding his hand, praying to channel some of my strength into him, still hoping for a recovery. I snapped a photo of that moment because the imagery seemed poignant. After my father's death, I posted that photo on social media, thinking maybe a few people who follow me would offer prayers. Surprisingly, the post went viral, with more than 400,000 views and 3,000 comments. In scanning the responses, I could see from people's profiles that they came from across the political spectrum. Apparently, the one thing that unites a divided America is the loss of a parent we loved.

During my father's wake, funeral, and the aftermath, it was heartening to hear from the many people whose lives he touched. His was not the kind of life that makes headlines, but it is the kind of life that keeps humanity on the right path from generation to generation.

I would describe my father using a phrase from one of his favorite movies: he was a quiet, peace-loving man. He was a great husband and father, worked at the same company for 40+ years, served in the Air Force for four years, and attended Mass every week What stands out the most to me are the acts of love that he performed for so many people. He wouldn't use the term "acts of love." That would be too mushy for his tastes. But if anyone needed a ride somewhere or help with something, he was there, willing to lend a hand or an ear. He was a role model for me of doing for others. He never sat me down and told me how to live a good life. He just modeled that behavior, and I got the message.

Looking back, I know I inherited my love of sitcoms and westerns, and Archie and Peanuts comics, from him. And I relish the times he and I spent together. The last several years have not been easy in light of my mother's dementia, but he served as my companion in caregiving the whole time.

I'll close with another movie reference. My father had true grit. He faced near-death situations numerous times: from his quadruple bypass, to internal bleeding, to a near-fatal case of pancreatitis. Most of the time, if you asked him if he was in pain, he would respond, "It's manageable." That line became a running joke between us. And if he did actually complain about something, I knew it was serious.

All those times, he beat the odds. But this time was too much for him. It's ironic that it was his heart that gave out because he had one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know. The grief over missing his presence in my life remains, but I know I will carry my father, his love and good example, in my heart for the rest of my days, until we meet again. And when I get to those pearly gates someday, I hope he's there to meet me in his old blue station wagon to give me a ride in.

This essay is this a recent "Light One Candle" column by Tony Rossi, Director of Communications, The Christophers; it is one of a series of weekly columns that deal with a variety of topics and current events.

Background information:

The Christophers