My father passed away on June 15, 2018. I wrote the obit…and I wrote the eulogy. I’ll include it here:
I think it’s fair to say that each of us had a slightly different angle of the man we’re here to mourn today. To some, he was Dad, to others he was a cousin, a brother, a husband, a life partner, a business contact, a mentor, a tennis buddy, the ire of your day, or your saving grace. He was known to be a private man for personal matters. He never quite learned “The Internets” but when we would google him he would look over my shoulder at the screen in angst going - “Can I sue them for that?” You know, he wore this pinky ring (which should tell you all you need to know, frankly) that had this blueish gemstone in the middle. It could be mistaken for rough or ordinary from first glance, but when you got that pinky ring into the sunlight, the gemstone would explode into the most beautiful starburst. Dad’s sunlight was his family.
He loved fiercely. Those of you that have been the lucky beneficiary of this know that while you were in his favor he would literally do anything for you. Once, I had a row with my freshman year roommate, and I called him from the hallway crying and thinking that maybe I wasn’t made for college and he said, “La (as he called me) first off, college was made for you. Don’t ever let something like this get in your way. And second, do you want me to send someone to have her taken care of?”
He embodied the dictionary definition of “work ethic” and the last thing I ever bought him was a lap desk so that he could still review contracts and leases even when he couldn’t even get out of bed. Sometimes he was this rough and tumble, good ole boys, let’s talk business, “what do you have for collateral” type of guy. And sometimes he was this huggable, hilarious, “sure I’ll have a coconut rum with coca-cola” type of guy. And sometimes you were related to him, so you got both types, and you weren’t sure which was which on that particular day. But even when he was being his copyrighted version of a curmudgeon, you always felt that he was speaking to you with an enviable breadth of knowledge that is so rare these days.
You know, I didn’t really know what to say when I started writing this. Dad had asked me to write it before he passed. Only a few days before he went into hospice we had started speaking more frankly and openly about death and dying and the logistics. He asked me to write his eulogy and honored I immediately replied “of course” because…”of course.” But I think we all thought he would bounce back like he always did because to us, he was made of adamantium, or for those in the younger crowd, vibranium.
But, this time was different. He was ready. Ready to stop fighting and let go.
But I have to admit to you all here today, I procrastinated. I wrote a social media post. I wrote the obituary. I even wrote work emails that I was super proud of, but I couldn’t bring myself to write this. One thing Dad always told me was, “Finish what you start. Make sure you’re someone that completes the task.” So, I think I didn’t want to sit down and have this pour out of me until I was ready that I could finish it. And I didn’t want to finish it. I didn’t want to accept that he was actually gone. And I didn’t ever want to finish talking about him. But then I realized that I don’t think we ever will.
I think we’ll all go on to tell the stories of Jerry that we know and love, or are part of the public arrest records. And in doing so, his life will never be finished. He will always be with us. When we hear a really great dad joke, when we watch tennis matches all over the world, when we go to the beach and catch a wave, when we utilize our first tax loophole.
He’s all around us.
Thank you.