Eulogy

My grandfather died about two months ago. My dad directed the service and gave most of the eulogy. I wrote up this small piece and delivered it during the service.

—

My memory of grandpa is one of a loving man, and a complicated man. I think two stories highlight that.

When I was very young, we were having dinner at their house. One of his horses had just died, and he did his best to convince me over dinner that we were all eating her. I couldn’t quite tell, at the time, if he was joking or not.

Much later, as I was getting ready to get married, I was a little stung when I was informed that Grandma & Grandpa would not be attending. It wasn’t until later that I realized just how impossible that would have been, and how much Grandpa had been looking out for Grandma at the time.

Those stories, for me, show what made Grandpa a little bit of an enigma. I had a hard time understanding how the man who loved and was willing to sacrifice for his family could also love stirring up chaos like that. But that was who he was. I can’t think of anyone else who better embodied the Whitman quote:

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

And I doubt that Grandpa would have been particularly fond of having himself described by a Whitman quote, but then, he’s also the one who first told me that funerals are for the living.

So I think that’s how I will always remember him, as a contradiction:

Family man, yet a maverick,

Socialite with reclusive tendencies,

Witty, but profane,

Funny, charming, and finally,

impossible to ignore, and impossible not to love, for his whole life.

Grandpa, you helped make us all who we are today, and made all our lives a little richer. We will miss you deeply.

—

Looking back, I left a lot unsaid. I relied on the memories of the people at the service to fill in the details, and I think that was the right choice. It’s hard enough to capture a person with words, and he is one of the more complicated people I’ve known.

It’s still hard to remember he’s not going to be there when I go home for holidays. I’ll be missing him for a long time, I think.