Eulogy

It has been a whirlwind since I got home. I did happen to see my grandfather two days before his death. It was a good tiem seeing him, as he was still in his wily high spirts. I was asked to speak at the funeral, so I thought I would share those words, reflecting my experience with grandpa, my last grandparent.


8th grade. With my elbows on the desk, I brought my head down and pressed my forehead into my palms. I’m starring at the just returned test in front of me, with a big, glaring F on it. I looked around the room to find that other students were bragging to each other about their grades; I continued to silently sulk over this catastrophe of academic showmanship. I thought to myself, “How am I failing this miserably at French? I think it might be generous to assume that maybe one other person in this classroom has any family member whose native language is French, yet I have a grandfather who’s first language is French and the only phrase that I can say confidently is je ne sais pas, translation: I don’t know.” Throw in a last name like Bernie’, I stared back down at my F and pondered the irony of the situation.
Traveling to grandpas, I recall getting excited to try and communicate the little bit of French that I had picked up from class. My father, siblings and I would pull into the driveway, get out of the car, collect our blankets and pillows and bombard our way through the door. Grandpa would always greet me with a firm handshake. As I would get older the firmness of my grip would improve, and then after a few classes in French in my back pocket, I would add a “Bonjour Grandpere” to that handshake. I didn’t realize that would release a torrent of French from his mouth. As he would wrap up his statement that I’m sure was covered in the 3rd class of the year, my eyes would widen, and jaw would drop as I would search my infant French vocabulary for a response. “Uhhh….je ne sais pas.” He would let out a laugh and let me in. I think that the only thing I found more confusing than when grandpa tried to teach me a little bit of French was the first time he tried to teach me how to play cribbage.
Walking into grandpa’s house always seemed “just right,” and by that I mean there was always an extravagant amount of golf knick-knacks scattered through the house, candlepin bowling was on the television (I still can’t believe that sport is televised), a cribbage board ready to go, and the refrigerator was always stocked with Moxie soda. For those of you who have not had the distinct pleasure of enjoying a cold can of moxie, imagine cough syrup and licorice together and then carbonated. I remember drinking a full glass of Moxie without wincing and thinking that it was some coming of age. Grandpa’s house was certainly not tailored to the entertainment of three young kids, but it was something special to be in his environment for a while and enjoy those things that I couldn’t find anywhere else.
But besides gramp’s house and absolutely huge yard (where my siblings and I would tee-off and drive golf balls as far as we could), it was always about being with grandpa. The conversations we had were about anything and everything, but usually ranging from who my sister was dating at the time to who grandpa had a date with that night. I was always impressed with how much his phone rang. But if there was something that will always stick with me about grandpa, it would have to be his ability to keep cranking out jokes. He was continuously keeping me chuckling with some off the cuff remark and sometimes repeated one-liner. Even up to the very end of his life while he stayed in bed, we were moving the sheets to make him more comfortable and somebody mentioned “hang in there grandpa,” and of course grandpa snuck in there “why can’t we just hang out?” I let out a boisterous laugh which grandpa responded, “well, Andrew is here.”
With mentioning grandpa’s state towards the end of his tremendous life, I do want to give thanks and a deep appreciation to Aunt Elise and Uncle Bill, who have made countless sacrifices to ensure that the end of grandpa’s long journey was as comfortable and caring as possible. I know that it meant the world to grandpa to be around family and to be cared for by the ones who love him. I cannot possibly conceive grandpa to have received the care, attention and nurturing that Aunt Elise and Uncle Bill provided him anywhere else, and to that we all thank you so much.
Not many people can say that they have been able to live such an extensive and active life as grandpa, being an icon in a community that he watched first-hand grow into what it is today. He showed characteristics that I continuously try to emulate and carried out a genetic longevity that I’m sure many of us hope to have inherited; a longevity which gave grandpa the chance to see four generations of his making, an extremely rare opportunity which I’m sure was a perfect capstone to a long and rich life. So grandpa, I love you so much and thank you for being the influence you were on all of our lives. I hope now that you are in a place where the cribbage board is always on the table and the moxie is always cold.