A Life Well Lived

Nine days ago, my dad passed away from complications from a difficult surgery. He would have been 79 this August. The viewing and funeral were held this past Wednesday and Thursday, 2 events that were both a final celebration of a life well lived and a time of sadness for all those who knew him. In thinking about my dad, I struggled with the fact that while I love history, no history book will ever record the events of his life. We record for posterity the sagas of presidents and poets, of actors and musicians, of heroic leaders and horrific dictators, but the lives of men like my dad are deemed “ordinary” and no book will document his accomplishments. Such a shame, because my dad was far from “ordinary”:

• Though my dad was only 8 when he lost his father so he had no role model growing up, he somehow became an extraordinary father, who always put the needs of his wife, children and grandchildren before his own.
• He was a devoted husband, who married his childhood sweetheart, loved her with all his heart, and remained by her side until his death, faithful to the end in an era where divorce has become commonplace.
• Though he had never gone to college, he raised 2 children who both attended Ivy League universities, and his grandchildren appear to be on the same path.
• While my sister and I will always cherish our educations, no college ever taught us more important lessons than my dad did, lessons that family comes first, that giving to and helping others is the highest calling, that work ethic is the key to success and that no goal is unattainable if you dedicate yourself to it.
• He adored his grandchildren, and spending time with them, being silly with them, making them laugh, and showing them what family truly means.
• He was a great boss at work, helping those who worked for him not only move their careers forward, but also live better lives.
• My wife and my sister’s husband never thought of him as an “in law”, but as their 2nd father, a man who treated them as if he raised them himself. (And, of course, they feel the same way about my Mom).
• Every close friend my sister and I ever had referred to him as “Dad” (and of course, called my mother “Mom”) because he treated them as if they were family.

Hundreds showed up for the viewing on Wednesday, so many that we overflowed the room and spilled into the hallways and outside. That was the moment that I realized it didn’t matter if the history books ever recorded my dad’s life. It didn’t matter because he would be remembered in a much more important place - the hearts and souls of every person he ever touched.

I love you dad, and I’ll miss you every day of the rest of my life, but I’ll make it through because I know you’ll be with me always, in my heart and my soul, guiding me as you always have. Thank you for teaching me all that you did, especially the value of a life well lived.