Eulogy

I lied... one more post about Grandpa. :-)

My youngest cousin wrote and delivered the following eulogy in honor of my grandfather on the day of funeral. I asked her to send me a copy because I thought it was great. She and her brother called him Poppop; my other three cousins called him Grandpop. My brother and I called him Grandpa. But no matter what we all called him, we shared him as our grandfather.

How Do!?

Ninety-seven years is a long time and we could sit here for hours talking about Poppop and everything he did for his family and friends, but we would be here forever. Instead I am going to keep it just like him, short and sweet.

I would like to share a few things about him ~things that if you knew Poppop at all you already knew about him:

He had an eternal acceptance of everyone ~ he never judged anyone, except maybe the Phillies when they were losing ~ then they were “Bums.” He always put his family first and had an overwhelming sense of pride in his children and grandchildren and made sure he attended every single high school and college graduation. He also never once hesitated to take care of Am when she got sick.

Other than his family, his other passions included making wine and pickles, boating and fishing, classical music, history, reading, and learning. He seemed to know how to do or fix anything and everything ~ and had the tools to do it ALL. Even in his 80s he could water-ski better than most of us. And, until the age of 95, he dove into and swam in the bay every day.

We will also always remember all of the things he taught us:

How to bait a hook, how to dig for clams and mussels, drive a boat, pick crabs, use a ringer washer, a push mower, and rotary phones, and most importantly that “crabgrass is the enemy!”

Poppop was the definition of a gentleman. He put everyone’s needs before his own always making sure everyone was at ease; never complaining or wanting to make a fuss, even throughout his final days. The evening before he passed when mom and I walked into his room he said “Hi Mert!” The last sentence he said to us was “Everything is quite pleasant, Julia, thank you.”

Right now I know he is happy he is finally able to be with his wife again after twenty-six years. He is no longer weak and is looking down on all of us ~ most likely drinking his gin and riding his bicycle.