How sweet it is!
A eulogy for my father
Eulogy for Aldo D’Andrea. St. Angela Merici Church, Windsor. May 9, 2016
On behalf of my family, we thank you for coming today to celebrate the life of my father. We appreciate this very much although I’m sure Dad would have said: “That’s enough! Let’s go home!”
On the night of May 5th, my wife Lori and I went to see my father in the hospital. It was a pleasant visit, filled with laughter and love. My father kept reaching up with his arms toward the ceiling. He looked like he was trying to grab on to a pair of hands. Perhaps he saw something we couldn’t see — we may never know.
I stood at the foot of his bed and teased him, asking him if he wanted to be the conductor of an orchestra now. He kept reaching up with his hands.
Those same hands spent a lifetime of hard labour, raising a family and supporting us through years of work in concrete and carpentry.
Dad loved concrete. He used to tell my mom, when they drove past a freshly laid out concrete pad: “Mangio cemento — I eat cement.”
Dad had lots of sayings which he repeated, over and over…and over. Some of them, especially the stuff he said at work, I can’t repeat here in church.
The others that he would tell my brothers and me:
“Oh Canada. Rich country, poor people.”
“I ate half a sandweecha.”
“It’s not so easy eh.”
“Are you 45 degrees or what?”
And the gestures — at least one that I can show you here: It was the mark of a perfectly straight level when you ask him if he liked his food or wine or the performance of the Windsor Symphony Orchestra.
Oh, but his favourite saying was short and simple: “No!”
He would say it to us no matter what we asked him:
“Dad, do you want some pasta?” … “No!” Then he would bite into his food.
“Dad, some more wine?” … “No!” before polishing off his glass.
Even dessert — and Dad loved his dessert. He always made sure he would finish off his sweets too.
My Dad could be a hard man, rough around the edges. We could tell him about a good report card or job offer and Dad would say: “Better for you than for me.” I used to get so mad, thinking he didn’t care. All he was trying to tell us was the simple truth: Although he was proud of us, and happy for our accomplishments, it really didn’t benefit him, it was better for us. It was a valuable lesson in life.
And it wasn’t all concrete with Dad. He did appreciate the sweet things in life. We saw it when he looked up to the sky and marveled at the vapour trails that jets left behind, at how tall the buildings in Toronto were. How his granddaughters Julia and Dina got him to smile.
No matter how hard life was — and Dad lived a hard life — I think he also knew that la vita e dolce.
With that, I’ll leave you with one more of my father’s favourite sayings. Jackie Gleason made it famous and Dad loved to repeat it many years ago. Perhaps, it was his statement of life:
“How sweet it is!”
So long Dad.
